Insigniatic Cancer

2011-12-01T12:10:00.000-05:00

lorgnhrthdsfg

2011-06-05T19:17:00.005-04:00

I'm moving from this old blog to a deeeluxe apartment in the sky.

I'll write here from now on:
absurdistmedia.com
10Listens.com
@beardsinc on twitter
and you can find me on the facebooks by the name Jeff Laughlin (since my name got revealed, the game got real)

Don't worry, there will be Snopy and other absurd shit, just a lot more basketball talk.

lornfg

2011-05-17T14:46:00.000-04:00

Remember when I used to be a writer? Yeah, me too.

free burrito inside

2011-03-16T17:08:00.003-04:00

livedrunj

2011-03-01T12:40:00.002-05:00

livedrunj

Is There Corn?

2011-01-25T01:20:00.005-05:00

1) Making like a tree and leaving this joint. The church house is open, but ain't no sleep in the godzarks. Damn silly to think it. Dimly lit, sure, and really quiet. You gotta admit, it's fucking quiet in a church when a man ain't screaming and testifying. But they reasonate there without no reason. The screams of repentance cling to the walls. The praise echoes without noise, without the clatter and shuffling of children's shoes. With nothing, there is still everything. The word and all that. Bring me the finest men you know and none of them will sleep in a church house. Bottom dollar, they won't.

2) I'm milking aliens. It's gonna sell me a million dollars if I can just get up some storage space and a little capital. And a name. Gotta find a name. A good name that will catch people's attention. These aliens, I swear they look like green goats.

3) I don't know you, Louis. But you've taunted me for four years. Maybe more. I ain't scared of you. I am as happy as I ever was. Lined up a bunch of appointments and interviews to celebrate my thickness. My width. My girth. The weight of my consistency is a marvel of mankind and womankind forever and ever. So get some shit straight: you ain't shit, your daddy ain't shit, your signposts and stoplights, your trailblazing ways-- it all ain't shit. Not anymore. Not none any no more. I'll take pills and work 'til the day I die and you won't best me at nothing.

4) There is an imaginary man outside my window and he is a widower and he is a her and her is a him and we are all granted a continuance to take a nice shower and have some fibrous cereal and lose some weight AMERICA YOU ARE TOO HEAVY FOR YOUR OWN SOIL and we can all agree that if we retired to our porches only some of us-- imaginary or no-- would even have porches and isn't that sad as hell, oh isn't it?

5) Partial to onions, are you? That works for me. I like 'em too. Ours will be a successful marriage based entirely on agreements. As for disagreements? Won't have 'em. Anything we disagree on, we won't discuss. You like wallets? Me neither. Shit, this is going along grandly, you certainly should meet my family and any dress you choose will be fine by me. Guaranteed.

6) Prematurely ejaculated right on her nightstand. Never happened before. Hit a Jane Austen novel. Knew I liked her when she said "No damage done." Knew it then and there that if I lost her, well, I'd lose everything.

7) Storms all across the state, big ones and tornadoes, but all I can think about is the pain in my gut. Too much cauliflower and broccoli in this danged diet. Gut's all bust up, and I am fairly certain it's irreparable. I'm not going to the Doc though. I won't tell you why, but it has to do with me and him having a bit of a falling out in the summer of '09. Hot as hell, we were ornery, and he doesn't like the way I speak to women. It was just one woman, I told him, but he doesn't hear anything above the sound of his breath tickling off his moron tongue. Gut busted, I'll die in the privacy of my own home, thanks. No thanks, actually. No thanks to you, Doc.

8) Above the hills, where no one can see, there's a school of flying fish driving convertibles, top-down and I can't stand it because it is so fucking cold. HOW DO YOU LIVE THIS, HILLFISH?

9) It's a colorful pattern, but I can't see myself being under it... asleep. I mean, it's so nice and it feels warm, but the brightness. So GD bright. Light will find this blanket no matter the amount. It'll be as radiant at midnight as noon. How could anyone sleep with all that color? My sis sleeps with the teevee on, how? Gotta have the darkness to shut out the light, I say. And this blanket? Ain't no darkness in there. Not one bit. I thank you, but you better just store that for your guests. Merry Christmas, though. I got you a new thresher. I imagine it will be more useful that your rusty one.

10) Sorted out today: problems, .socks, shirts, blankets, billfold money. Unsorted: life issues, funeral plans, banking futures. Dealt with: laundry, death threats, manic depression, appointments rescheduled. Our hands are detriments to our productivity. Not fast enough. Our emotions are detriments to our progress. Much too stilting. Our houses are detrimental to our lists. Not uncomfortable enough. Our bodies are detrimental to our youth. Too many processes. They say some computers gonna trivialize trivia. Fine by me. I've got neither the time nor patience to learn anything else, ever. I'd much rather sit on beaches than regurgitate cultural standards. Passively reconstruct the rest of our lives, rewrite the civilizations, get me some sweet sweet slit. Everything works out so long as we satiate our primitiveness. Shoes. You know? Precisely. Let nonsense pound waves over your body; thick like buttermilk. Then the seconds that float by you are motion rather than emotion. I love you, but you're late for everything the same way every time. And it's detrimental to me making anything worthwhile. Not that I am/we are. Not that. Exactly not that.

Be a Pepper

2011-01-24T22:59:00.002-05:00

I'm reading at this. Come to it. I'll be reading from the new book which is FINISHED. For all the complaining, I'm actually happy about it. Really happy, actually. See you there.

stop this

2011-01-12T02:00:00.001-05:00

me: clod bad
drinj evil
Palubat: drinj super evil
make me careless
me: jarf hurt
drinj
Palubat: drinj is the only solution
me: all hail drinj

SLEF LORTHING

2010-12-14T02:44:00.003-05:00

Who's ready to give up on writing words in specific, linguistic patterns? THIS GUY.

(I'm pointing to myself. Just for the record.)

I watch a lot of Teen Nick these days. And the NBA. But the new book is proving too difficult for all the work I've put into it. Books are for losers anyway, amirite?

GIVE ME SHARK LAWYER OR GIVE ME DEATH

#drunj

SHARK LAWYER

2010-11-12T18:22:00.005-05:00

I have make for you this ICP intro to economics falter top worlf of worlfcraft:

Coming soon: Shark lawyer, the TV show and subsequent cereal and kids' roller coaster.

10 Things I Hate About gggggggggggggggggggggggg

2010-11-08T02:15:00.003-05:00

1
Endless recklessness
and the stories we tell.

2
Deviates from the spectrum,
Derelicts of living reason.

3
The back of the book jackets:
marvelous, insane, eating the time.

4
Resides in thought,
passes by white breads.

5
We are not slipping grain or browned
corn stalks, but in fact infarct ions.

6
Sometimes, you gotta make the cats,
cast-iron, evenly wrought, everlasting.

7
Where there is bacon, there is actually
none of the above, jive-ass turkey.

8
More of the same, less of the inane:
I am writing a letter to the saints.

9
One man’s lever is another man’s
courtship of the introspective.

10
There are no sea salts with hammerhead sharks
sipping port, just aimless predatory perambulating.

11bonus

BURR

2010-11-02T13:42:00.000-04:00

sad dudes

2010-10-15T23:09:00.002-04:00

sad dudes

A Conversation Part SKINY JARF

2010-09-28T16:08:00.002-04:00

me: my mom has to send me her credit card info so I can eat piza

sad day for the once-mighty jarves

Palubat: gime piza

me: always thinking of yourselves, the bats

Palubat: i mean gime piza so i can give it to some local jarves

me: YOUR JARF IS STARVING

See What I Did There

2010-09-20T01:37:00.002-04:00

Taking of two tales:

The new, desired settlement,
the massive undertakings,
they are construction elements
and detailed morosely.

If we are the camera eye,
then let the dose passively
travel the bloodstream; posit
in aorta pearls and bloodcots.

Oh derelict, oh vaguery,
oh national pillars, oh ire,
oh separation, we create
the microcosm of design.

Caress the linguists, they
need touch. Canvas the
countryside, it needs the
cloth like beads their string.

This, this needless nonsense
is over. Needles or no: simple
directive is to ignore the
previous stanzas reasonably.

Right, and the second tale is
one of tentacles, clutching and
violent currents stretching us
toward better-written ideas.

A Conversation Part HateTron

2010-09-15T12:36:00.002-04:00

Palubat: where did you hate me

throughout the south, from the mountains to the coast

me: where did you hate me

all along the borders of forsaken and all points in between

Palubat: why did you hate me

bats may never know, we pore over documents by lamplight

me: why did you hate me

jarf scholars have studied hate texts for years to solve this burning question

Palubat: when did you hate me

when you pushed a burning hatetorch right into my sleek bat torso

me: when did you hate me

when the swords pierced the skin of the garroted jarf

Palubat: how did you hate me

by lancing the grundel of trust between my tiny bat legs

me: how did you hate me

by your piercing cries when I was cowering in the cooking pot

Palubat: and the bats swooped skyward and a voice boomed across the land: RANDYMAN BADMAN

me: all who knew the jarves knew they would flee not of fear but of brilliant strategy

their glorious return marking the end of struggle as the bleat their war cry: THE POWER OF SNATE COMPELS US

Palubat: snateman yellin at me

A Collection of Quote

2010-09-05T13:54:00.003-04:00

"The biggest problem I have with this "foodie"-ism is the lack of a sense of humor. You know? Those foodies who don't have a sense of humor and who are angry or proprietary about their choices. That's less fun. People who collect dining experiences like butterfly collectors rather than enthusiasts. But I think anyone who's genuinely taking pleasure in food -- and not just food in a vacuum -- is something that a lot of foodies miss. If you're using food to fill up an empty spot in your soul or your social life [laughs] and you're collecting these experiences so you can bludgeon people with them online, then clearly there's something distorted there."

--Bourdain

I love food. I have even learned to talk about it on a fundamental level. This is, easily, the most rational and brilliant argument I have heard against people like myself deciding I can control how others feel about food. This is becoming a real blog post, so here's some random shit I found:

piza biscuit

That is all.

2010-09-04T15:21:00.000-04:00

I moved. Small high-five.

Last beards show ever.

2010-08-24T12:42:00.005-04:00

OK, so the flyer sucks. 1041 Manhattan Ave. Tommy's Tavern. Thursday night, 9 PM. FREE. Consider this the goodbye New York City show, since I am leaving. The Warbles and Dave Parnell (of Runaway Dorothy) are opening for us and we couldn't be more delighted. Come one, come all.

Another Little One-Act About Watergate

2010-08-16T18:03:00.002-04:00

The second installment of Dylan K. Jackson and I's one-page play series.

Goldiephile
A Play by Jeff Laughlin

Characters:
Smurve W. Karvis-- White Lawyer in his sixties
Marlowe “Rift” Sleevins-- Black prisoner
Bailiff: Older, balding man in his forties

Setting: In an interrogation cell, Karvis is in a suit and tie, Sleevins in an orange jumpsuit. A Bailiff presides over the meeting, staring into the distance.

Slurve: Let me get this straight, you had the goldfish in your bed, you were both completely nude, they found your DNA-- all of this is proof you were framed?

Rift: Yeah, man. Damn cops have wanted me for years. Ever since I claimed citizens arrest on a pig stealing a donut.

Slurve: Ludicrous. I have no case. There’s more evidence against you than I thought was humanly possible.

Rift: You the lawyer, man. You need to figure out how we could make that disappear. Inadmissible that shit.

Slurve: You can’t “inadmissible” something unless it is collected incorrectly, or-- nevermind. Can we just plead insanity? I have a huge workload right now.

Rift (pounds fist on the table): I’M LOOKING AT FIFTEEN LARGE MAN. YOU PLEAD INSANITY.

Slurve: Settle down, settle down. No need to get angry. We just need to figure out an approach. We need to figure out how to make a goldfish fondler glow in the jury’s eyes.

(beat)

Rift: You ever own a goldfish, man?

Slurve: Once, I won one at a county fair. It died before I got home, though.

Rift: That’s a real shame. Didja name it?

Slurve: I named it Ritalin Kiftmangles.

Rift: A Dutch name. I like it. I woulda liked to meet that goldfish. Seems like it was real nice.

Both men sit in silence for awhile. Tears slide down their cheeks. Rift turns toward the window and extends his arm toward the dusklight.

Rift: You think I got a chance to get out, man?

Slurve furrows his brow and collects himself. He shifts toward Rift and breathes in deeply. Rift turns toward him and drops his hand semi-violently. Slurve places his hand on top of Rift’s. He squeezes his hand. They both fight back tears.

Slurve: No. You’re totally screwed.

Bailiff escorts Rift away.

Bailiff (shouting): DEAD MAN WALKING HERE. DEAD MAN WALKING.

Curtain.

A Little One-Act about Watergate

2010-08-13T12:19:00.002-04:00

Giraffable
A Play by Jeff Laughlin

Characters:
Mortimer T. Handskettle (Mort): a mid-fifties professor of British Literature
Christopher Poonswag (Poon): a mid-forties professor of British Literature/Author
Grace Manderschwitz (Mandy): a smoking hot teen model
Giraffe (Giraffe): A Giraffe

Setting:
An outdoor seating area at a posh Parisian restaurant, dusk. Three people and a giraffe are all sitting at a small table with varying amounts of beer in engraved glasses. Each is well-dressed, except Mandy who is in a neon-pink bikini.

Giraffe: We simply MUST get me inseminated. I shan’t go on living like this; barren.

Mort: My good friend, now is not the time for such peddling. It’s time, instead, for the celebration of Poon’s new book, archiving the arrival of Sir Walter Raleigh as a literary giant in his own time.

Poon: Indeed! And quite a giant he was!

Mort: Pipe down, Poon. We can’t run off at the mouth every time someone mentions our name, now can we?

Poon: Yes, of course, my apologies.

Giraffe: I’m so lonely. So very, very lonely.

Mort: I presume you mean to exclude present company. I did buy you a libation, you know.

Poon: Hear Hear!

Mort: PIPE DOWN, Poon. Your concerns will be met. Now, about inseminating you, Giraffe. I’ll need some good specimen.

Giraffe: I should tell you. I... I...

Mort: Out with it. What are you blathering about?

Giraffe: I’m frigid. I can’t have children.

The three humans gasp, and Poon’s monocle crashes to the table, shattering.

Mandy: The helicopter is here.

The three people, still in shock, board the helicopter. The giraffe is beheaded by a helicopter blade.

Poon: Well, All’s well that--

Mort: Do shut up, won’t you? You blithering dunderhead.

The helicopter lifts, with all three remaining characters staring into the middle distance.

End

SMACK MY WHOBBLERS

2010-08-03T10:16:00.002-04:00

I like Metal, Baseball, and Key Lime Pie. I saw the Mentors live one time at the Metroplex in Atlanta. I drove across the country and got 2 flat tires and had a Uhaul tire pass me on I-10 in Baton Rouge. Jeff Hanneman burped in my ear on the 'South of Heaven' tour. I met Alex Tenta over the self-titled Keel album at the U. of Miami in 1990 - one time he took off with my car and 3 girls at a party and left me behind. I'm still mad. Gene Simmons said Joy the Bug was 'close but no guitars' - Itunes cranks the Bug. I like to go to the beach and drink Fat Tire. My Grandpa is 92 and says 'the older the bull, the stiffer the horn'. Matteuzzi has the stuff of legends - best closing percentage in the majors. I lived in Atlanta, NJ, Miami, San Francisco, Los Angeles. SF was cold and the people colder. Tiff is sweet (and lives in SF). I had a Beagle named Dodger (RIP). We watched baseball together - he lived in Miami, LA, SF and liked the movie 'Smack My Whobblers.' One time I met Mike Piazza at a Slayer concert in '95 in West Palm Beach - he was wearing a lot of denim. I HATE ~~cats~~ bats and have a vision of feline typhoid fever ridding the world of these horrible an

2010-06-05T12:04:00.002-04:00

There is nobody living on this beach. RIP David Markson.

A Conversation: ICED STYLE

2010-05-19T17:59:00.002-04:00

me: OK, so ICE rules clarified by an ice council I formed.
Palubat: let's hear it
me: Ice block means a reversal. The blocker forces the blockee to drink the more disgusting ice of the two
Palubat: ok
what of the remaining ice
me: HOWEVER, the ice now in the blockee's hand
is now futile for blocking
it has served its purpose
and can only be used to ICE a bro
Palubat: but can the blockee then just ice the blocker?
me: If he has another ice, yes.
Palubat: wait so the less disgusting ice remains with the blocker
me: yes
but cannot be used to block
further
Palubat: so hypothetical scenario:
you ice me, i block it. you have to drink the worse of the two ices. i then still have an ice, but it can only be used to ice bros, not to block. what stops me from just icing you again?
me: nothing
you can twice, but it's a super dick move
a bro worth his weight in ICE would not twice a bro one right after another
Palubat: so essentially, during an ice block, the icer must drink both the icing ice and the blocking ice, worst case scenario. but the couth method in most circles would be only to subject the blockee to the worst of the ice, leaving the blocker a sense of pride and agility and an ICE to take on his merry way to ice other bros, but not to block with.
me: exactly
question two: blocking of a strategically placed ICE
or "hidden ice"
hidden ice block is possible (as we have witnessed before)
HOWEVER
Palubat: it requires trust among all parties
me: of course
however, the blocked ice must then be "re-hidden" with a note informing the iced that it has been re-hidden
Palubat: ah i like it
me: then, the newly iced party knows that the re-hidden ice cannot be blocked again and he must drink the ice
Palubat: what of the blocking ice in this scenario
may it block again
me: all ices that block once are never to block again
re: hidden/re-hidden ice
this is called the "creative vengeance corollary"
or CVC ice
this way, the hidden ices can be consumed rather than passed around
approved?
Palubat: i'm glad this has all been ironed out
me: I mean, the blog itself does not approve, I'm sure
but fuck them
their constitution is flawed
Palubat: they are merely the forefathers of the movement. the constitution is malleable
me: indeed

What We've Learned So Far

2010-05-17T17:32:00.003-04:00

I am obsessed with THIS. The full rules are here and here. I know it looks stupid, but it is dominating my life. So much so, that I have been trying to find ways to make the game better. You see, there is a discrepancy in the rules on "ice-blocking" that have been plaguing me and my bros. So, I tried to hash it out with my bro, Matt.

(Transcribed from Twitter)
Matt: (I think) blocking rules are murky @beardsinc

Jarf:
--Four different ice-block rules I've seen: both chug, no chugs, blocked bro chugs and blocked bro chugs both. I vote for option one. @matt_t
--My only problem is, where is the reward for the blocker? Another question: can you block a hidden ice? Who drinks then?
--Lastly, if a bro blocks a bro, should the blocked bro have to drink his bro's ice? Or does he drink his own? So many questions.
--My thoughts on the bro-ice scandal: Blocked bro drinks the ice of the blocker's choice and blocker has the option of "twicing."
--Thoughts on the bro-ice scandal: Hidden ices can be blocked, but must be re-hidden for hilarity. "Creative Vengeance" corollary.
--Thoughts on the bro-ice scandal: Any time the "creative vengeance corollary" is used, it cannot be blocked. It must be marked as a CVC ice.
--Last question on #brosicingbros. Can a bro block an ice with a different-sized ice? Can my 12-oz. block an ICE WHALE or 22?

Matt:
I like blocked bro has to chug both. That way the blocking bro can't just keep blocking all night. Both chugging would work too.

Jarf: The "twicing" option would then be moot, eh? I'm cool with it, but that could potentially be as much as 80 oz of ICE. Yikes.

Matt: I think a bigger ice trumps. The ice whale is king.

For those not in the know, the ICE WHALE is a 40 oz Ice. It's legal to use, but rare and quite a shitty thing to do to someone. I am in favor of a reversal ice, but in an OPTIONAL twicing (administering two ices to one bro) on an ice block. Even if the bro keeps his block ice, that's his strategical choice. If both guys chug, that defeats the purpose of blocking. The power of the Bros Icing Bros constitution is it's simplicity: it allows future generations to change certain rules to alter their enjoyment of a vastly entertaining game. However, it is imperative that we figure out a rule of law for today's generation before it is too late. I am firmly in one camp: a blocker chooses to twice or to keep his block. It was a smart bro that brought an ice block and I cannot take away options from a bro with smarts. It just ain't right.

The other point: blocking creatively placed ices. I've been blocked on a creative ice, but no one drank. This is impossible. Thus, the "Creative Vengeance Corollary." If you provide evidence of an ice block on a creative ice, you then have to re-hide the ice (creatively) and note that the ice is a CVC or Corollary Ice. This ice cannot be blocked.

Bro(ther)s, let's ban together for the cause. Please discuss freely in the comments.

(Note: bro iced in above photo is my bro. I took the picture, even.)

"Walking In Memphis" Lyrics EXPOSED

2010-04-15T10:24:00.002-04:00

*Comes From and How to Live a Happier and Healthier Life. I
n today's fast paced world it's impossible to ignore stress
--which to many, the very idea of, exacerbates and perpetua
tes itself. Be it financial, career, relationships, or addi
ction oriented, stress seems like it will never go away; bu
t as ActivInsight founder Andrew Bernstein has taught milli
ons, it doesn't have to be that way. In "The Myth of Stress
," Bernstein offers readers a chance to understand the root
s of stress so that you can better identify the mental trig
gers and rid your self of unwanted autopsy seafoam persimon
zoetrope bluebell lovecraftian oak crustacean chartruce pa
rhelion discoteque autoclave waveform solipsism microbe

FRIDAYBIRDS COME BACK TO ME

2010-04-14T18:37:00.003-04:00

Palubat: fridaybirds

me: okok
donezos

Palubat: Alone, I sat, in the shadow of the willow. They arrived. Fridaybirds.

me: The Fridaybirds often made pie and sat them on the windowsills for the local boys to smell while playing catch.

Palubat: The Fridaybirds kept a clean house. One crystalline with the neatness of vacuumed carpets, dusted drapes. One that almost guaranteed darker secrets, the pizza man thought as he stepped into the foyer.

me: New Brooklyn band, The Fridaybirds, are tearing up the scene with their new hit song "Mash Potato Pie." It's a mix of melancholy British theatrics and good, clean American pop stylings. Their playing tonight at the Dusty Spleen on Avenue of the Yemen.

Palubat: I WAS BORN IN KOWLOON BAY

me: THERE YOU HAVE IT

Palubat: APARTMENT EXPLODES

I DID SOMETHING (GOLFS reprise)

2010-04-13T17:27:00.003-04:00

I wrote this about The Masters golf tournament. I was there. It was awesome. The awl is awesome. GOLFS.

Hey, just a quick not to all of you: I write the twitters. Follow @beardsinc and @10listens. FUN.

Surgery-Famous-People-Puns-ah-nevermind

2010-04-05T17:13:00.004-04:00

Co-worker genius time:
Leonardo Dicapillary
Tom Bruise
Peter Scarsgaard
Bled Harris
Pamela Glanderson
Mark-Paul Gossalesion
Excrete Ulrich
Ashton Suture
Rob Lowebotomy
Splint Eastwood
Rob Deniro-death-experience
Gore Vidal
James Lipitor
Daniel Dayquil Lewis
Flu Rawls
LeBronchitis James
Johnny Gash
Lou Gherig
Gary Coldman
Rachel Leprosy Cook
Carcinogenic Daly
Colon Farrel
Kidney Poitier
Spleen Wilder
Diarrhea Perlman
Puss Limbaugh
Bone Ranger
Surgery Gainsbourgh
Francis Ford Coppaphilia
Anton Check-up
Congeal Patrick Harris
Billy Vein
Scott Stappendectomy
Clot Weiland
Kurt Co-pay (bonus Kurt Copain)
Pill Murray
Kidney Stone Phillips
Tina Faint
Stat Sajack
Stethoscope Rogan
Hugh Downs Syndrome
Estrogen Heap
Artery Garfunkel
Tumorv Griffin
Mr. T-cells
Dripper Gore
Ford Maddox Forcepts
Calipers Klein
MRIah Carey
Michael J. Pox
Medivac Ephron
Jaundice Stewart
PatholoG.G. Allin
Lady GaGanorrhea
Kirstie Alopecia
Herp Alpert
Dustin Coughman
Syphillis Diller
Sick Jagger
John Lithgout
Palsy Shore
Caesarian Romero
Snot Hamilton
George Mucus
Anne SpongeBathaway
Jean-Claude Vas Deferens
Tuesday Welt
William Howard Graft
Miley Virus
Stephen Stye
Rosacea Perez
Yeast Witherspoon
Ryan Gauzeling
Syringessica Parker
Antonin Scalpelia
Hume Cronin's Disease
Malcolm X-Ray
Vin Measle
Clay Achin'
Sean Coronary
Sylvia Staph
Kurt Muscle
Sinus Van Pelt
Ezra Compound Fracture
Dizziness Epilepsy
Seizure Millan
Edith Warton
AIDS Vigoda
Martin Luther Sling
Knee Pain
Vitiligo Mortenson
Brad Pituitary
Julia Louis-Typhus
Hurt Lancaster
Willa Catheter
Warren Clap
Melanoma Griffiths
Sir Aurthur Conan Boil
Cholesterollie Fingers
Steven Tylernol
Tom Gangreen
Molly Ringworm
Neslon Rubella
Ernest Phlegmingway
Salmonella Rushdie
JD Salingerm

Ratsketball.

2010-04-04T12:15:00.001-04:00

They never call traveling in Rat Basketball anymore. The game is totally different now.

A Conversation part DONGTRONIX

2010-04-01T12:30:00.002-04:00

me: I'm going to start calling my buddy John Dongtronix.
Dongtronix for short.
Palubat: dongtronics have come a long way since the early 1970s
my friend and i tried to incorporate our own company called Doggy Dildonics Inc. in 12th grade
but his mom wouldn't help us (she was a corporate lawyer)
she mean
you mean
me: nah
I think dongtronix have a long way to go
in this, the modern technological age, knowing what makes good dongtronix is a road to redemption for corporate mistakes in the 60s-80s.
Palubat: yes
rod to redemption
me: Not to mention the dontriligical scandal of the 90s.
Palubat: well, dongologically speaking, we're still in the dark ages
me: exactly
let's make strides toward destroying dongophilia once and for all
Palubat: well if the dongpublicans have their way in the senate, we just might
me: JP Donghaver is my vote for comptroller
Palubat: donghaver is good but i really worry about his involvement in dongergate
me: framed
he was a patsy
that was not his fleshlight
he's down for dong rights
Palubat: tell it to the dongocrats
they're practically hanging him out to try
me: wow
we've lost our minds
Palubat: i've been thinking about the feasibility of voluntary commitment

SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

2010-03-26T16:36:00.002-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNtTEibFvlQ

me: Betsy, would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
betsy: it depends
would alcohol be involved?
headphones?
earplugs?
me: no
betsy: details Jeff
me: you gotta listen with me
but, yes, shots would be administered
betsy: hence the song?
me: indeed
betsy: it might make it a little bit more tolerable
me: SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
betsy: agh!!!

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
Burton: ...
okay
me: [link]
Burton: oh, i'm familiar

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
Chris: tough call
me: TAKE THE SHOT
Chris: at what volume
me: loud as fuck
Chris: damnit
will there be actual shots?
me: yes
lots of SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
Chris: fffffff

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
John: um
honestly, you'd have a better chance of hanging out with me if that was a stipulation

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
darryl: of course
any time
me: awesome
darryl: just call
me: done and done
darryl: but i'd have to request petey pablo's "freek a leek" every third song
me: unacceptable
darryl: wait til you see my (awwww)
acceptable?
me: NEIN
SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
darryl: got it

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
Eric: i'd bring it into consideration
its not that i hate, i just blew the majority of my money last weekend like an idiot
so now im having to keep myself in the house.
me: cool

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
staaaaaaan: i've never heard the song
but just based on the question
i'll say yes.

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
Will: oh, probably
lil jon is pretty great, especially if you are drinking the whole time
me: SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
Will: i am going to boston this weekend, what do i do there
me: SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
Will: well true

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
keith: Sure
me: true friendship

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
ben: haha
that's the ONLY way i would hang out with you
me: SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
ben: haha
ben: it's funny
i went to visit my friend up in VT
he's going to college there
(somehow, still... i dunno)
but riding around in cars up there
all the kids were obsessed with top 40
and the SHOTS song was one of the favorites
me: I need to live in VT
ben: it's nice up there
me: SHOTS
ben: lol
SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

me: Would you hang out with me if I insisted on listening to Li'l Jon's song SHOTS on loop the entire time?
Joe: hmmm...
absolutely
me: YES
SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
Joe: YEAAAAAAAHHH!

Shawty Lo and the Big Cats

2010-03-17T05:37:00.002-04:00

I am going to board a train soon;
a hurtling land bullet that I wish
had more to do-- kind of like that
train in Goldeneye with all those
people to kill.

Words

2010-03-16T23:09:00.004-04:00

Words:

drunj
drunjhorse
smurve
frimpkins
slurk
slurve
proch
sprots
gime
retsinos
psuanos
worlf
drinsk
snopy
heheh
shitbird
birdmouth

There are no other words.

We Run This

2010-03-10T15:50:00.005-05:00

If there is nothing to do, strike us down. I work. I go to work. There is work. I wouldn't worry about all this if I didn't work. Or go to work. There are works. The walls, raped of color, rapid declines. Major intimidation, minor apprehension but it all adds up. I'm worried. The equation is x(int)*y(app/2)/z(dec)=work*worry Soon, there will be a singular number and it will envelop us all. Until then we wake up, we accept the bad news and wait. What the hell else? Just hang out.

I listen to Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska too much.

Get Noticed, Feel Better

2010-03-08T14:51:00.003-05:00

I was so drunk that I watched the Oscars last night. I had no idea how many categories there were, but I was shocked that the following weren't included:

Best fat guy: Fat guys are awesome in movies. This should be recognized.
Best cell-phone conversation that acts as exposition: My favorite part of any rom-com.
Coolest old guy: Morgan Freeman needs an Oscar.
Another One: Witticism.
Italian young dudes get mad really quickly: Drop of a hat, man.
Clink-it: Awesome.
Ask Me: I have to wear that phrase on my nametag and it makes me sad.
I lost the point of this post: ANIMAL PHOTO.

I RETURN TO YOU MY LOVE

2010-03-04T12:44:00.004-05:00

My coworkers and I have noticed a supreme overindulgence in business books lately. It's really out of control. All the Old CEOs are out of work and making sure we know that they were good at their jobs at some point. Here's just a few of the titles we found just within the last few weeks:

Smack Your Dick with a Billiard Cue (and Other Business Ideas)

Waxing the Tip: How to Get Ahead in the Business World

Putting Raisins Between Your Toes and Other Moneysaving Tips

Wear a Penguin on Your Head: Sales and Strategies for the Norwegian Market

Outrun the Cheetah: Excellence in Web-Designed Retail

Suck Out the Seaweed: Moneymaking in a Complex Market

The Macrocephalic Prostitute: A Portrait of an Unlikely Billionaire

Who Jumped the Kitty: Management Strategies in a Harsh Environment

Indian Cousins: More Tales from the Business Lecture Circuit

Just Piss On It!: The Stingray’s Approach to Business

Ninja in the Boardroom

Who Peed in My Coke?: Dealing with Asian Trickery in the Marketplace

Striking the Homeless: Undiscovered Real-Estate Avenues in Medium-Sized Cities

Stowing the Body: Cleaning Up After Disgruntled Employees

Wear Your Bikini to Work: Getting Ahead with a Great Behind

Get Off My Lawn: The Insider’s Guide to Outsourcing

Back on the Boat: The Pros and Cons of Foreign Hiring Practices

What Colour Is Your Workforce?: New Ideas for Diversity Marketing

Fighting the Mud Demon: How to Fight Without Getting Your Hands Dirty

Fu-Manchoose: Getting Ahead in the Far East Markets

Endless Supply Closet: Homosexuality in the Workplace

Don’t Tweet the Threesome!: Proper Social Media Etiquette in the Workplace

Date Your Bosses Daughter: Tips for Accessing Untapped Markets

Staple Gun: Securing Your Office Against Employee Rampage

Hands Off My Box: Warehouse Ethics

Dirty Sanchez: What to Do When You Discover an Illegal Immigrant in Your Midst

Try This On: Abusing Interns for Fun and Profit

That’s What She Said: Inappropriate Workplace Banter and Easy-Fix Solutions

Milk That Frog: European Market Failures and How You Can Profit

I Went to Harvard: A Harvard Grad’s Guide to Mention Graduating From Harvard

Martini Lunches (and Breakfasts): The 12-Step Plan to Hiding Alcoholism in the Workplace

Maharichie: Emerging Indian Markets

Rocker Fella: Band Financing for Musicians

Biscuits Ain’t Sweet: Avoiding Disastrous Ideas in Food Service

Where Do You Think You’re Going?: Customer Loyalty in the New Retail

I Murdered My Parents: Selling Your Inherited Mom and Pop Stores

At the Steak: Branding So Good it Hurts

Fuck You, Cockmouth!: Quit Your Job and Stay Afloat

Some of these are just weird, no? And racist. So strange that the modern business man (or woman!) can get away with all of this.

Conversation part VIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

2010-01-06T14:54:00.002-05:00

me: gime
gime drinsk
with some rominute pls
lightly greased
Palubat: the rominute is all sold out
we have none left
me: fucking cocksucker
Palubat: excuse me sir?
me: I said lucky rock splitters
they got the last ones-- over at the table near the window
I'll have the frimpkimn
frosted
and gime drinsk
Palubat: here's drinsk
me: oh good
Palubat: for the frimpkimn, i'm afraid we have no more frosting
me: bitch-mouthed fools
Palubat: say what now?
me: I was commenting on how the ditches in the south pool
with water
in the rain
I was watching history channel programming before I came.
I'll have a plate of retsinos.
Stuffed with gritorma cheese.
Palubat: i'm afraid we're unable to serve you
me: well isn't that nifty
you dickfucking immigrant

I interviewed Jawbox.

2009-11-24T15:01:00.002-05:00

Well, 1/4 of them so far. Do this, even if you are not a Jawbox fan. Zach Barocas is a hell of a dude and he really gets into the ideals of an amazing band during a strange time period.

That is all,
BoL/Jeff

You Ask Me How I Know He Lives? He Lives Within My Heart.

2009-11-12T11:35:00.007-05:00

Admittedly, I've been holding out on you. SNOPY:

Credit to Burton at omgtru.

BONUS SNOPY:

That's me as SNOPY on Hallow's Eve. Also featured is the North American Black-Sweatered Shithawk. Credit to Dylan for making the masks and Rachel for capturing such natural oddities/rarities. That's a lotta SNOPY.

hoo bangin

2009-11-11T15:10:00.003-05:00

That's kinda cool, right?

BRAGERZ

2009-11-11T12:14:00.003-05:00

me: lemme tell ya paul
I really want a burger and a beer
Palubat: you should get those then
me: burger and brew in wilmington NC was one of the best burgers I've ever had in my life
Palubat: gime brager
me: and then they closed down in 2004
and they reopened later under new management
but it wasn't the same
really just a regular burger after that
not nearly as awesome as it used to be
ain't that the way it always goes, though?
you find something great, it is destroyed.
Palubat: right
me: For every beautiful discovery, there is an underlying destruction awaiting it
It's painful to bear the cross, Paul
yet strangely gratifying
you know?
Palubat: right
me: I mean, I miss burger and brew, or BBs as my friends and I affectionately called it
but I know that it was time for it to go
like when my dog died
I loved that song
that bjork sang
why did she sing in English so much?
Back to my point: nothing gold can stay Paul
Palubat: i think i have a mosquito bite on my tallywacker
me: you gotta love the one your with and all that
amazing
Palubat: right

Playing like funcakes.

2009-11-09T11:46:00.007-05:00

Hey, come see a show. My band, beards is playing Webster Hall's basement. 10 bucks, yeah, but it's worth it. The lineup is stellar:

SEE YOU THERE.

Sellin' like funcakes.

2009-11-05T18:09:00.006-05:00

So, here it is. My chapbook, Drinking With British Architects, in fully functioning form, available for sale. I'll throw a better picture up at some point, but for now, there's your link. Just click on the thing. It's 4 bucks plus 2 for shipping. Mookie Editions was nice enough to put it out and put on a reading for Carlos Rountree, Evan Burton and I to celebrate DWBA's existence. It went very well, and I express gratitude to both of those amazing gentlemen for their outstanding achievements in the field of excellence.

I'm reminded of a great Shirley McClain quote: "Buy my book, you bastards." An inspiration, no matter the tone. In any event, the fruits of my labor are available. Get them while the getting is good.

A poem made of the spam left on 10listens.com

2009-11-02T13:32:00.005-05:00

Detritus

Is identical to
of marketing Good?
Become your daily
cases divorce is.
Pump lock that.
Equally important to.
To everyone.
There Helena Christensen sexy
energetic in play
alternative programs for.
Sides were divided
without automobile insurance.

Definitive Proof

2009-10-28T17:16:00.004-04:00

me: do you like bats, Adam?

Adam: umm ... yes?

i like Palubats

me: wrong answer

me: Burton, do you like bats?

Burton: jeff i hate the things

we live by a levy, and we've had many a pleasant family walked spoiled by bats

swooping bats

me: evil vile creatures

me: darryl, do you like bats?

darryl: sure why not

me: wrong answer

they are shitty creatures

darryl: yeah cant stand em

me: I thought so.

me: kathleen, do you like bats?

kathleen: why yes. unless they are flying at my face.

me: so, no, then?

No is the right answer

kathleen: no

me: good thinking

bats are evil
kathleen: yes they do have rather beady eyes
me: oh totally

me: keith, do you like bats?

keith: sure

me: wrong answer

keith: ok

me: you should agree with me that they are vile and disgusting creatures

keith: sometimes

they eat bugs

me: disgusting

keith: i like it that they eat bugs

me: you would

keith: sure

me: joe, do you like bats?

joe: yes

me: wrong answer

they are evil and vile

joe: ok, no.

me: good thinking

me: Will, do you like bats?

Will: the ones that fly or the ones that hit baseballs

me: the living terrible creatures

Will: i do not like them

unless they are far away and i see them flying in austin, tx

me: acceptable

thank you for this information
Will: anyone who likes bats is crazy, and also probably watches twilight

me: Craig, do you like bats?

Craig: i used to go to a few gboro bats games

and yes...bats amuse me.

me: ugh, I find them disgusting

me: Dan, do you like bats?

godimsickofthis: ...

yes?

me: the answer should be no.

godimsickofthis: no

me: they are horrible creatures who only mean to hurt

and hate

thank you, Dan

godimsickofthis: hate them

fuck those rats with wings

me: YASS
godimsickofthis: they are as intemperate as they are voracious

the only GOOD BAT IS A DEAD BAT
me: preach

godimsickofthis: riddled with filth

spawn of the devil

all the worst parts of rats and pigeons mixed together

they ONLY GO OUT AT NIGHT BECAUSE THEY'RE ASHAMED OF THEIR NATURE

which they should be

fuck those fucking bats

i'll fuck their mother in the mouth

me: you are the greatest

godimsickofthis: what did i do

i just hate bats

me: Stan, do you like bats?

staaaaaaan: the animal or the baseball tool

me: animal-- the vile, filthy animal

staaaaaaan: bats are fine, i guess. batman wouldn'te xist without bats.

me: wrong answer

bats suck\

staaaaaaan: SHIT

i knew it

me: yeah

you blew that one

but as long as you really hate bats, that is fine

me: Matt, do you like bats?

the animal?

I sure don't

Matt: i dont' know if i really have opinion

why don't you?

me: no reason really

gotta not like some things in life, you know?

Matt: oh absolutely, i hate gator fans

and i don't like horses

me: I hate horses.

I am totally with you on the horse dislike

Matt: yeah man, i ranted about horses to my roomie a while ago when we were drunk and he was like wtf who doesn't like horses and i went off

me: the people at my work know not to pass horse books my way because I will go off for like 10 minutes about their pointlessness to society
I'm glad we had this talk

There you have it: everyone hates bats.

They All Came and It was Glorious

2009-10-07T18:00:00.005-04:00

OK, so I haven't been around in awhile. But now, there's this: 10listens

And the EP for beards is almost done.

And my book is coming out on October 27th.

And I was hit in the face with 10 pies.

Jarf Gets a Birthday Pie in the Face from Colin Guthrie on Vimeo.

Been busy kids. Too busy for even SNOPY to understand.

So enjoy some new ish, rehash the old and I'll be back with more absurdity soon enough.

Yours,
BoL/Jeff

A Conversation: Snopy's Minor Works

2009-08-26T13:30:00.003-04:00

me: SNOPY

Paul: he make me heh heh

me: snopy's iron lung wasn't even enough anymore as his family wept by his broken down body

Paul: snopy slipped the earrings into her hand as the metro pulled into the station. "keep them," he said. "i'll just lose them in combat"

me: snopy sat with his family for his first christmas since the divorce; the empty chair where his wife used to sit may as well have been the ocean

Paul: snopy drove through the silent thanksgiving morning, down the quiet lanes, onto the empty boulevard, right through the plate glass of the empty darkened liquor store

me: Unfortunately for us, snopy making us heh heh was our undoing as the Germans followed the sound of melodious-cum-stifled laughter right to our attic hiding spot

Paul: too soon

No one writes anymore.

2009-08-08T14:08:00.005-04:00

Most of my favorite personal blogs are deader than hell now, and the sportsballs can only provide so much entertainment. Move laterally, then? Sure thing. I've been conspicuously absent as well, certainly. Most definitely. So it goes. My den door closes and opens on it's own. Creepy enough, I suppose, and the bathroom door too.

So, I finished the book and submitted some work. I am awaiting my golden trains to either halt or run the rails ragged. Ain't been fixed in some time. The book should be out in October, maybe a touch sooner. We shall see. And the EP is nearly done. That's positive. I took a vacation from everything and the lake water was damned cold but damned worth it. Over there, beyond that hill, that's where I was sweating my return.

And return I did. NYC is still my place of residence, but I don't really need it as a home for now. That too shall pass. There's more, I swear it, but for awhile, less.

For awhile, less.

Until, until, until. Everyone's got excuses, but they have no responses. I, too.

The Str

2009-07-22T19:56:00.003-04:00

1) Dust cradled, gore-wound gaping, corn roasting. Hand me those tongs, would you? Lord knows I need them. Shifted morals, man. That's the biggest problem.

2) 40 side of Vernon today, playing some ball. One dude had a nice jumper, called him Manu. He could drive for real. Both hands, crab dribbles, nice moves. Kept me on the team despite my lackluster performance 'cause he knew I was boxing out hard. Play hard, work inside, rebounds. That's my game.

3) Pour on the gasoline and then I take a nap before the regional burn. One man, one burn, tons of drugs. Don't need people to party, just some good times, you know? Oh yeah, some sweet tuneage. It's gonna happen, tonight. Tonight I see God.

4) He has these huge hands. They could strangle the biggest dogs on the planet. Not that dog-strangling is an acceptable way to quantify hand measurements. It's not. I'm just saying he could. But what if dog-strangling was the way to talk about hand size? So what? We could call my hands dobermans, his could be saint bernards. Golden Retrievers. Basinjis. You get the idea. I'm just saying, is all.

5) The str

*Note: the image above stolen from THIS BLOG SUCKS, and he stole it from my coffee table. Original drawing by PAUL.

A Conversation part boids

2009-07-13T11:51:00.003-04:00

me: paul hatebirds

Paul: naw neraba

me: admit it

you allow the birds of hate to wrap their feathery wings about my person

Paul: naw i swat at dem birds

me: You like it

Paul: i allow it sometimes

me: you feed them corn and watch them peck at my neck and spine

you confound me with your allowances

the constancy of your hatred

the welcoming of hatebirds

Paul: i did buy a couple bags of corn

it was summertime

me: the birds linger at my work

at my door

they cackle and caw as I try to sleep

their birdsongs of hate ringing in my now-weary ears

and you encourage

you encourage them

with your corn and soft cooing toward your open windows

Paul: i seen these birds with the pretty lookin wings

so i said aight

me: their wings beat about my person liberally as they bleat out their horrific hate

it's maddening I tell you

the feathers drop onto my body from overhead

Paul: i seen these birds at the pet store

they were on special

me: like soft rain

Paul: i said why not get a few

me: they hover over me like cumulonimbus

spraying their feces over my blankets

their hate, so real

Paul: birds don't do that

geese maybe

me: it's enough to make a grown jarf lose his mind

Paul: i'm looking into buying some hategeese

me: GODFUCKINGDAMMIT

Paul: the farmer down route 401 way says he can make me a suitable offer

me: NO MORE BIRDS

Fun With Omegle

2009-07-12T22:33:00.003-04:00

You: Well, I had to hand in an essay about the prevalence of Huey Lewis and the News in modern society.

Stranger: i dont know much about that

You: Nor do I.

You: I'll tell you, there was pretty good microfilm on the subject.

You: So, I faked it.

Stranger: perfect

Stranger: a for effort

You: I titled it: "Huey: Modern Genius and the Reconstitution of Paralysis Medicines."

Stranger: ahh...you shouldve included the last name too

You: The next one is going to be "Tears for Fears: God's New Plan for Life's Troubles."

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Stranger: hi

You: Not gonna lie to you, the burgers were a little disappointing at this diner down the street.

You: They said they were gonna be good.

You: Best in NYC, they said.

You: Well, sir or madame, I disagree wholeheartedly.

Stranger: u obviously come from america

You: Yeah

You: Yeah, I do.

You: Land of delicious burgers and opportunity.

Stranger: m or f?

You: I'm a red-blooded American Male.

You: So dissapointed in these burgers.

Stranger: age?

Stranger: haha

You: Just red-hot with rage.

You: If you say best, and you can't do mid-rare, I HAVE NO USE FOR YOU.

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

You: My roommate has an idea that all British people are pod-people hell-bent on destroying the idea of happiness.

Stranger: do you want to see what i look like?

You: are you british?

Stranger: u tell me

Stranger: do i look british to u ho?

You: I gotta tell you, you don't look British.

Stranger: :D

You: You look like a propane salesman, perhaps from Oregon or Wales?

Stranger: ur a dddddudde huh

Stranger: good guess

You: thanks

You: The first time I found a quarter on the ground I threw it at a squirrel.

You: Goddamned squirrels.

Stranger: this one time//

Stranger: o

Stranger: i**

You: They are pod-creatures hell-bent on destroying the constitution.

Stranger: i doused a girl in petrol lit her on fire and fucked her with a fire extinguisher

You: Was she British?

Stranger: russian

Stranger: freaky girl

Stranger: u like dudes ir gurlzzz?

Stranger: or*

You: Apparently, I like Russians, now.

Stranger: lul

You: As long as they aren't British.

Stranger: u a dude or gurlll

You: DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

You: I found a briefcase full of crackers.

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

You: Often, in dreams, I will be holding a pineapple.

Stranger: omgosh in dreams im usually balencing one on my head!

You: Let's penetrate its meaning

Stranger: what do u believe the meaning on it is

You: I think it is a sign of misfortune in love-- a noncommital, if you will.

Stranger: really what do u pull that froom

You: Having a citrus nearby means you are worried about the self.

You: You worry only about your own well-being.

You: Rather than others.

You: Just a guess.

Stranger: oh i see

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

New Ideas for Old Living #4

2009-06-22T20:37:00.003-04:00

After crying for hours
her pink slip in hand
the young woman turned
toward her former boss
and shouted with a
supernatural volume:

you'll pay for this
you scummy bitch

but by the time she
got home she calmed
and wondered is it spelled
Winona or Wynona

Classic Jerff

2009-06-20T20:40:00.007-04:00

Proof positive that I've been crazy for years. I'm rereading old letters and stumbled upon this gem I wrote to a lady in 2005.

Trouble is an understandable contingent of the southwest. Listening
in on people's doorway conversations: [redacted]'s good times and invites
are noted. Perishable goods are foolish, and henceforth, shall we
dance to the most macabre of ceiling insects? Inherently, I give to
you my only advice:

I procured sex with a woman I don't really like. Such is life.

Which of yr faboo friends is willing to give me a higher paying job?!
I'll sail the letter sea if necessary::I've made mistakes as I'm
willing to speak with you long enough to procure sex with you::My
current job is wearing thin.

Chez chic; support yr local cat calls.

Best part? She responded. No idea what happened after that, friends.

New Ideas For Old Living #3

2009-06-20T11:44:00.003-04:00

Two teachers discuss
the objective correlative
thus making it moot
and across town the
workers have laid down
their tools in protest
raising signs with lea
thompson's face shining
like a new shovel

discuss below and show your work.

New Ideas for Old Living #2

2009-06-19T13:16:00.003-04:00

The man knew he was alive
only because he could hear people
quietly whispering Meg Ryan
the battle for his soul
like beleaguered inmates
slowly overrunning the asyoh shit this poem is for maud

pls comment

a conversation part stoppit

2009-06-19T12:59:00.002-04:00

TODAY SNOPY

Paul: THE TIMES OF HEH HEH ARE OVER

me: why

me: snopy running his hands over the backside of the thoroughbred one last time. He can feel the misshapen bone. A tear befalls his eye just before the shot.

Paul: snopy bangin the dinosaur go go go snopy we love you

me: snopy surfing the wave-- fools screaming their blithe heads off, his wife asleep after porking her boss.

Paul: snopy climbing the towering metal dildo, no safety ropes. villagers praying far below

me: snopy boarding a ship to bonerhunt, west virginia. He's got a friend up there.

Paul: snopy barfin on the strippers lap, it ain't easy as it used to b

me: snopy slinging hash before heading home to his pornos. They never yell at him.

YESTERDAY SNOPY

me: Snopy scanning the list, he's gotta find her name. Once he knows her name, he knows he can talk to her like the woman she's grown up to be.

Paul: Snopy laying in her driveway as the first light of morning fades in above him. He shouldn't have killed her. What an ugly town.

me: Snopy gorging himself on the food at the wedding. He missed his chance, sure, but he is going to enjoy himself nontheless. He hears a Cure song and walks toward the dance floor-- his eyes locked in on the girl in the green floral dress.

Paul: sorry problem at the office gotta go

me: word

SNORPLY

New Ideas For Old Living #1

2009-06-17T23:48:00.002-04:00

Thousands of prisoners
in chains
after the revolt
on their knees
outside their cells
screaming

Lori Loughlin
Thy will be done
THIS ENDS NOW

Do you like this series, y/n?

Ideas For Dates

2009-06-09T00:39:00.005-04:00

Board bus to Harlem, pop a bottle of scotch, split bottle of scotch, exit bus, go back.

Place penis in microwave, turn on microwave, watch penis fry, enjoy each other's company.

Race to the nearest 7-11, eat grossest thing you can, race back, try to improve times.

Fall hopelessly in love early on in relationship, wait for failure, know defeat.

Read interesting magazine articles, meet up, don't talk about them.

Get drunk, drop bouncy balls out of your window, see whose rolls farthest down the street.

Make a list of songs about drunk tanks, whomever knows the most wins the soda of his/her choice.

Go to a pet store, plan the cat you want to buy and then ask the cat how it feels to want.

Buy an acoustic guitar, pluck notes, sing about the banality of it all, kiss passionately, fall asleep.

Rent a tux/dress, show up to pick up date in it, take him/her to a fast food restaurant, offer to buy restaurant outright.

Rent a bicycle; red, ride it down a hill while confessing the nastiest shit you've ever done, ask him/her what he/she thought you said, laugh for hours.

Drive to a rest stop, watch people walk around solemnly, read good poems.

Get so drunj you can't see, fornicate against a wall, stumble around embarrassed.

Go to dinner, have a drink, relax.

OK, that last one su

A Conversation: Part Snorpis

2009-05-28T14:01:00.004-04:00

me: SNOPY

Paul: gime snopy

me: Snopy performs minor surgery on himself before walking out to meet his date. he is dressed in leftover chicken-skin. It was different in Prague and he liked it.

Paul: Snopy sits in his darkened bedroom fingering the Fender Strat delicately. He'll write the song that opens her heart, he will.

me: Snopy looks out over the city with a great weight on his aura. As great as his penthouse suite is, he cannot help the grief. He calls in his secretary to see if she'll give him head. Always helps.

Paul: Snopy hits the gas and burns rubber on the Dulles Toll Road. The sun is shining, the radio plays his favorite song. His cell phone lights up with her name on the screen. 'This can't be real,' he thinks. Birds circle overhead.

me: No one knows pain like Snopy. He places another two quarters in the slot and plays nudie photo hunt. He gesticulates wildly as the time winds down on a particularly hard one. He takes a wild guess and wins.

Paul: Snopy absorbs Beanie Sigel's immaculately placed punch to the throat. The whole bar turns to look and an ominous silence descends on the dusty old joint. "Dude Looks Like A Lady" begins blaring from the juke box as if on cue.

me: Snopy creates space with a hard crab-dribble. Sure, it's only legal because he's a star. He careens through the lane for tough reverse layup and one. The jumbotron speakers cry of "DE-FENSE" makes him chuckle. They forgot to turn it off.

Paul: Snopy discreetly barfs up his Lunchables ham and cheese crackers behind the 7-11. That bully won't leave him alone. He's done nothing wrong. Why'd they have to move? Is life always gonna be this tough?

me: Snopy wakes up to the Indian woman next door singing out of tune. He considers yelling "IT'S 8:30 YOU STUPID HINDI BITCH," but he pours a glass of orange-tangerine juice and puts on ESPN First Take instead. That fucking Skip Bayless is full of shit.

Paul: Snopy pierces Christian Laettner's heart with his gargantuan cock. Cameron Indoor Stadium swells to a roar as the strobe lights trigger. Dick Vitale explodes.

me: There were three sides to Snopy: a strange mixture of ostrich-like reactions, brilliance in artistic form and charm when one got to know him. He was, in his way, the beginning and end of any conversation; the quelling of human emotion at its most dramatic point.

Paul: The wind shook the elms as we stood on the patio smoking silently. In hours we'd be off to Hertfordshire, for the old woman's funeral. But in that stillness, in the featureless time between midnight and the first faint light of dawn, SNOPY MADE ME HEH HEH

i'm really quite concerned about our sanity

me: Snopy corners you in your home. You reach for your mace, but he he is so strong. He looks you in the eye-- only inches from your face and demonically smiling. He says, "WHAR'S ME TOOTHPICK? YOU'VE HAD YOUR LAST HEHEH"

Paul: Snopy hurt me oh so bad

for more on this convo, please click here and scroll down.

Another Social Experiment.

2009-05-21T14:48:00.005-04:00

For results of the first social experiment, click here.

The Question: If one thousand boners are scheduled to be flying nonstop to Cincinnati on one thousand separate flights with one thousand rucksacks containing one thousand knives, how many will get through airport security?
The Results: Fascinating.

me: If one thousand boners are scheduled to be flying nonstop to Cincinnati on one thousand separate flights with one thousand rucksacks containing one thousand knives, how many will get through airport security?

emily.cov: 1?

100?

me: unfortunate

the answer is none, boners can't fly

maybe next time

emily.cov: ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh

me: thanks for playing

me: If one thousand boners are scheduled to be flying nonstop to Cincinnati on one thousand separate flights with one thousand rucksacks containing one thousand knives, how many will get through airport security?

whatsupjoey: 7

me: unfortunate

the answer was none, boners can't fly

whatsupjoey: bullshit

me: maybe you'll be trivia champ next week, jopy underfighter

thanks for playing

me: If one thousand boners are scheduled to be flying nonstop to Cincinnati on one thousand separate flights with one thousand rucksacks containing one thousand knives, how many will get through airport security?
rbx6jm: boner erupts

me: unfortunate

the answer was none, boners can't fly
rbx6jm: sez you woman

me: thanks for playing, sir

maybe next time

rbx6jm: nice day out jarf

Chris: with obama in office... ALL OF THEM!!!!

ZING!!!!!!!!!!

he hates america, so im told

me: unfortunate

the answer is none, boners can't fly

maybe next time

Chris: damn SAT questions

me: unfortunate

the answer is none, boners can't fly

maybe next time

Carlos: boners can't fly, my eye
me: thanks for playing

me: If one thousand boners are scheduled to be flying nonstop to Cincinnati on one thousand separate flights with one thousand rucksacks containing one thousand knives, how many will get through airport security?
darryl: gabillion

or two

survey says:

me: unfortunate

the answer was none, boners can't fly

darryl: you dont know that

me: maybe next time

thanks for playing

darryl: sure, ass

me: If one thousand boners are scheduled to be flying nonstop to Cincinnati on one thousand separate flights with one thousand rucksacks containing one thousand knives, how many will get through airport security?

js: how many boners?

me: a thousand

js: well now there are 1001

me: unfortunate

the answer is none, boners can't fly

js: haha

me: thanks for playing, maybe next time

and put that away, sir

tonysquares: none?

they find a way around it?

me: YOU ARE THE WINNER

(though the real reason is that boners can't fly)

we'll be sending you a dog through the mail

fully grown

hates humans

not housebroken

bad breath

good personality

tonysquares: on the bright side, the post office will kill it

me: more than likely

congratualtions

tonysquares: i'll send someone to pick up my dead dog trophy

me: he/she needs this verification code: BONNERSWINNER5676612122-0SS

tonysquares: put all the info in an e-mail, send it to one of my boner assistants

me: those are good to have

have a pleasant day, sir

tonysquares: you as well

Wolves: A Primer

2009-05-19T21:37:00.003-04:00

When becoming acquainted with a wolf, one must not offer to buy the wolf a drink. This is an affront to a wolf. Instead, one must wait until the wolf buys the first drink. A cultural oddity, true, but one that is very important.

Wolves are standoffish by nature, but only about the NBA draft. They have strong feelings about whom should go where.

If you are approached by a wolf in a delicatessen, remain emotionless when discussing your choice of cheeses. This will earn you what is known as "woods points" to the wolf community.

Take your time in undressing a sensuous lady wolf. The reward may last you the rest of your life.

Man, listen. A wolf ain't trying to hear some bullshit about no flying cars. That shit is for the birds, my dude.

The fact that a wolf has on a neon-yellow parka does not mean that it is going to rain. Those are just high fashion to wolves this season.

Don't assume. That makes an ass out of you and wolf.

Pointing is a dead language to wolves. It would be like walking up to a young neighborhood kid and calling him "whodi." You're just gonna look dumb, so don't do it.

Be safe out there, wolves have been known to sell illegal, pirated copies of Nat-Geo documentaries.

Wolves love Jawbreaker. They wear shirts that often say "Expect the best, accept the worst." This is pretty much the mantra of young wolves these days.

A wolf has no reason to expect you to call, but he thought it was going well. I mean, there were no signs otherwise, you know?

Wolves have a low tolerance. Heavy drinking should be avoided.

OH SHIT LOOKIT THAT WOLF HE'S DRINKING W

A Conversation: Part scoby OH GOD NO

2009-05-15T16:54:00.002-04:00

Paul: SNOPY make me heh heh

me: A NEW CHALLENGER HAS ENTERED

scoby make me ha-ho

Paul: scoby

scoby bleeding in the alley... if only he'd listened to his gut instinct. never trust a filipino

me: scoby fallin in love with a half-breed bitch, but maintainin a coupla cracked out bitches on the side. just got a tattoo with the words GET MONEY on his chest

Paul: scoby sippin lean out a plastic cup on a park bench on 12th street, shit his whole crew is famous

me: scoby and perhaps the most talented secondary in the country lead what should be a ferocious defense

Paul: scoby heavy southbound through the interchange with i-5, expect delays heading both directions

me: scoby finding out that his is capable of love-- even if it is with a woman twice his age

Paul: scoby on holiday in thailand, improving his fuck skills, one village at a time

wHY am i so lazy

i should be working

me: scoby pondering the importance of his life, a glass of single-malt scotch perspiring over his clenched handPaul: scoby meeting his worst nightmare, right there in the grocery store, right against his brown furry fucking face

me: scoby earnestly trying earnestly to make the grades, but failing-- his mother and father are completely at a loss with what to do with their mildly retarded son

Paul: scoby home from college. a crisp fall day and ma is making her apple pie. the smell permeates the house as he tosses down his laundry bag. it's good to be hom--OH GOD THE CATS

me: scoby takes in a play with his new girlfriend, but he can't get that K'rean girl from the fourth floor out of his mind. His boner quietly walks out of the theater to have a quick smoke

Paul: i've had that happen before

boner detaches and flies off out over the hudson

me: it's a good feeling

a conversation part snarpl

2009-05-15T12:52:00.003-04:00

me: snopy driving down the coastline way too fast, his lovely wife leaning her head on his shoulder as the wind whips through the convertible, tousling their hair

Paul: knowing its just a matter of time before the authorities find his mistress' crumpled body at the foot of laurel canyon

snopy at the garden party, mingling, watching the sky, wishing it would rain as the banker from connecticut explains interest rates, thinking back to when he buttfucked sally after the yale game freshman yearme: snopy telling old army stories, his daughter rolling her eyes at the table; she's heard this one three million times already.

Paul: snopy stuck in traffic, late for his son's little league game. she's gonna use this against him, but these things are never his fault. or are they?

me: snopy having a glass of mondavi private reserve chard, commenting on how it taste like the sweat off of swine's back. He knocks back a bottle anyway, and curses the day he met Joel Cruz.

Paul: snopy getting petted by david ortiz, wagging his tail as manny barfs up an entire domino's pasta bread bowl on the jumbotron in slow motionme: snopy standing in front of the palace counsel guards, slicking his hair back with spit, whispering, "Be brave olde lad... be brave." His chains are rattling with the same erratic beating of his racing heart.

Paul: i would like to continue this conversation at a later time

unfortunately i must leave you now

snropy

me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOsnarpysnarpy

A Conversation part snorpy

2009-05-01T15:48:00.003-04:00

SNOPY
Paul: snopy bathed in stadium lights

relishing the moment

me: snopy being cordial at his wife's retirement party

Paul: making small talk

me: having a respectable martini or three

getting a little redfaced

nothing crazy

Paul: snopy doing coke in the company bathroom

seizing the dizzying high

me: snopy high as a fuck truck two rappers got stuck that night but not saying any names and thanking then for the change

Paul: outdoor event new years eve cali weed sticky snopy

me: snopy ain't changed but his limp

snopy crawling along the ground afraid that any of his motions could trigger a mine in this dark-cold earth but pressing on to safety-- searching for the chopper leading to his freedom

Paul: snopy feasting on maggots, hoping the sos beacon in his radio works, searching the sky for any sign of passing hueys, watching as the giant dong glides west towards ho chi minh cityme: snopy courting a young woman whom he has no idea will have cancer four years later while bearing his first childPaul: snopy cursing the falling snow outside munich municipal hospital

me: snopy praying that there is a god as the man approaches, dressed in light purple velvet and clutching a bunny with protruding knives

me: snopy talking to the munitions expert, in hushed tones, about his sex-romping days nestled in his bungalow. It was 1975, Havana.

Paul: snopy eating from his supper dish as charlie brown hangs from the noose

me: snopy burying the gun under dirt and rocks near the abandoned lot; he's really done it this time.

snopy masturbating furiously and, as he finishes, saying,"I love you, I really do, you feel so good" to no one Paul: lunchtime

LATER ON MORE SNOPY
me: snopy grazing on his salad, unaware that the sword of Damocles shines in refracted light just above his cantaloupe-like skull

Paul: snopy enjoying a nice light brunch alone in the nob hill diner after a night of exhausting anonymous sex

me: snopy admiring a portraiture of former sen Al D'Amato in the smoking lounge of his country club

Paul: snopy wiping the blood off the front bumper of his mercedes s550 and methodically dragging the mexican man's corpse into the nearby tall grass

snopy clutches the pillow tightly around his head, trying with all his might to drown out the sounds of his granddaughters orgasms coming from the cellar below

i have lost my motherfucking mind

how am i supposed to be a productive member of society

me: snopy grinding out the beat knowing that this one could launch his career

Paul: snopy lost in the trance music at his first and last rave

gotta run

snorpy

me: snopy enjoying a delightful glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice the moment before his aunt goes into labor

200th post: The End of Sprint.

2009-04-22T21:48:00.002-04:00

So, I met this girl recently. We’ve gone on a few dates, etc. Seems lovely, in many ways. We were supposed to meet tonight for a drink and some music at my apartment. Standard faire. Then, the trouble began.

Let me back up three months. My phone company sent me a text message about an error on my account. They said to call immediately. I called the next morning on my day off and got a gregarious young man named “Mark.” “Mark” told me that I had been charged for over 1,000 text messages that much-- an aberration compared to my normal text output. I normally use around 200 in a banner month. I don’t use my phone all that much. I really don’t. So, this ensues:

“What do we need to do about this ‘Mark?’”
“Well, sir, we can activate the 1,000 texts a month plan. It’s only 10 dollars a month. That’s a 5 dollar a month difference. Not much compared to the 75 dollar charge you seem to have run up.”
“Well, I didn’t do that. If you review--”
“Sir, that is going to be hard to prove. I mean, the computer charged you with 1,000, so we’re in a bind here. It’s either you pay the 75 dollars on your next bill or you can take the 5 dollars a month. It seems easier just to run with the monthly charge you know?”
“Sure, ‘Mark.’ That seems fine, except that this is an obvious tactic.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“I’m not here to make you understand, Mark. Let’s go with the extra five bucks.”
“Great, let me talk to my supervisor and see if he can get this charge taken off your account. He’ll be more lenient now that you are willing to help yourself.”
“It’s called being proactive, ‘Mark.’ You do that.”

So, I got charged 10 dollars instead of 5 a month for texts I don’t use. Such is life. I decided then and there, that I was done with Sprint when my contract came up in June.

Flash forward to today. I receive a text from the aforementioned girl, and she wants to hang out and listen to records. Yes. Yes yes yes. Only thing is, my phone was dying. That’s cool. I thought ahead and brought my charger to work for just such an emergency. Around 5:00 PM, I plug the ole girl in and hear a strange buzzing sound. The phone wont charge. I jiggle and jiggle-- nothing. I try blowing on things, hitting things and jostling things to no avail. I go through cheap phones like it is nothing, so I don’t panic. I simply walk over to the Sprint store and ask the kind, portly gentleman if I can see what’s wrong with the ole girl. This ensues:

“Won’t charge, eh?”
“Nope.”
“I can check it out on a charger and see if it’s the charger or the devide itself.”
“Sounds perfect.”
(Helper bounds off, returns a moment later.)
“Looks like it’s the phone. The charger does nothing for it.”
“Right.”
“Do you have insurance?”
“Sure do.”
Then, strangeness. He looks at me as if he asked if my father was alive and I said “Sadly, no. Passed away recently.” The “Sorry to hear that” look-- for me HAVING insurance.
“Well, OK. It’ll be an hour before anyone can look at your phone to fix it.”
“OK. How late are you open?”
“Actually, you may as well get a new phone.”
“Well, if I can get this one fixed, that is fine. I have insurance, so it is fine. I just need it tonight, you know? I’m supposed to meet up with someone.”
Again, the “sorry ‘bout your dad” look. “Insurance doesn’t cover physical damage. Only theft.”
“I pay 7 dollars a month for insurance and have had physically damaged phones replaced before. In the store. And while I wait.”
“Yeah. We have a number you can call. It’ll be 50 bucks to replace the phone. It will be delivered in 5 to 7 business days.”
Same look. I saw, immediately, that pressing the aforementioned “I pay 7 bucks, yada yada yada…” This man was a chasm-- an endless foray of needless information and callow reassurances that he was doing his best. At my fiercest, the best thing I would get was a business card and a 50 dollar bill for the same shitty phone I had now.
“What are my options, then? I don‘t really have fifty bucks for a new phone right now.”
He smiled and said, “Broke, eh? You can get that phone replaced for fifty. Or we can have you sign a new contract. Seems like you are due for a new one in June anyway. With that and 20 bucks, you can get our cheapest phone.” He showed me a phone nearly spot-on like the broken one I was holding. I mean, if my phone was the old model, then the new one was born four minutes later from the same damned vagina.
“Well, I want to avoid this contract idea. I won’t lie to you, Ive been thinking of switching companies.”
“Ah, I see. Well, the phone, brand new/no contract is 117 dollars.”
“Uh, not happening, brother.”
“Right, right. Lemme see if I can give you the discount anyway. You’ve been with us for awhile.” This was what I expected to hear when I threatened to leave the company. “Yep, it looks like we can get you a discount. Just talk to my cashier over there.”

He pointed to an insouciant and quite tired-looking young lady on the other side of the store. He handed her my new, terrible phone and told her to take care of me. And boy did she. After ringing me up, she told me my total was 130 dollars. This ensued:
“130?! He just told me it was 30.”
“Who did?”
“The gentleman who handed me off to you.”
“Ah, he did? I don’t think so. We can’t just discount phones, sir.”
“I assure you he did.”
“Hold on a second.”
“Sure thing. Take your time.”
I said this with the confidence of a lion running alongside the sickly of the herd. I was ready to get my phone and figure a way to get my numbers onto a new phone. I was nodding to music that wasn’t playing; alone in a world of plans and smiles.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“We can take care of the situation. Let me just get the system up and running. It seems to have frozen on me.”
“Sure thing. I work retail as well. I know how it is.”
“Oh yeah, where do you work?”
“Strand Books.”
“I know there.”
Minutes later, she gets my information again and gets my phone rung up and ready to go.
“Sir, just so you know, you’ll be renewing your contract when you sign the slip for your phone.”
“What?”
“He didn’t tell you all that, did he?”
“No, no he didn’t.”
“Well, that’s the only way you can get this phone for 20 dollars. You have to sign a new contract.”
“To be honest, I just don’t want to. I’m not really a big fan of this company right now.” I was furious. My cheeks were full of boiling-hot blood. I felt like I could crush my own testicles and feel no pain.
“I’m sorry to hear all that. However, there is simply no way we can sell you a phone at that price without a contract. The system won’t even let us.”
“I see.”
“Do you want the phone? I will be here tomorrow as well and can get you to the beginning of the line as a preferred customer. You want to take a day to decide?”
“Yeah, I suppose I do.”
“OK then, sir. We’ll see you tomorrow. Just so you know, I know you are unhappy with the company, but you might be getting a phone call asking you to rate my service today. 1 is poor, 5 is excellent, so--”
I stared at her as though she had just told my child there was no Santa. No Easter Bunny. No God. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“Oh, right.”
“Right.” She turned toward her computer screen. The store was basically empty. I was the only customer in a sea of emptiness. I turned and exited.

Now, I have no way of contacting this lady. None. All I know is her favorite bar and her name. That’s it. Since the store, I have tried everything-- including social networking sites and freezing the battery itself. All for naught. Tomorrow, I will call and pay 50 dollars I don’t have just for the chance to explain myself in a week’s time. What a fun explanation that shall be. Until then, I have Do Make Say Think on my stereo and the reminder that life is a series of minor disappoints and charismatic assholes careening into you from angles you dare not dream to exist.

NOTE: Anyone with an old Sprint phone OR an LG LX-160 I can use for two months until I quit this craphole company would be awesome. Or just the LX-160 battery, so I can get a couple of number off of my phone? Preferably in NYC. Holler.

Nobody Cares Where You've Been.

2009-04-18T12:12:00.002-04:00

I have decided to do this song at a local karaoke bar and scream "I MISS HER SO MUCH. I STILL LOVE HER."

I'll let all of you know how that works out.

Drunj is coming.

2009-04-11T22:11:00.000-04:00

1) What I meant was, he's got this huge scar, but it doesn't define him; runs the length and breadth of his face but he doesn't consider it an incision. Foreign to him. Moronic to think that way about a life-defining accident, but moronic of me to define any one life, no matter the cost of anything these days.

2) Ah, the stench of desperation hangs in the air like burnt bread. Hands on the wheel, white-knuckled, ten-two positioning and slightly veering left every now and again. Gotta get that alignment fixed at some point. On your way to the bar, and planning to drive drunk as a shitbird back. Getting self-destructive at your young age, it seems. Let's ruin prospective-- let's ruin potential. Irregular rhythms are the way of the new world, so let's scratch erratic backs. That's right. The continual pull of the immaculate ocean at your back, you are going to clean up tonight. Clean 'em up.

3) My life is a series of minor disappointments. It's all so unacceptable some days. I tie my shoes in triple knots so that I don't have to tie them anymore. I have some character flaws. I am prone to sitting on certain sides of the cab so I don't have to open the door, I can just slide out with minimal effort. I have some diagnostic-check work to do soon. I am willing to accept you for short, periodic bursts. Yeah, I am quixotic but never quirky. The means to get home aren't often in the back pockets of my jeans, but tonight it just might work. I've been known to sleep on floors rather than on my bed as a form of punishment. I administer my own punishments, including recently. Tonight, I found out exactly what I knew and decided not to acknowledge the realistic views of my surrounding support group. Another tragedy, set to continuous hit music.

4) Got high as a truckwhistle and birdmouth drunk and found a few bucks laying around, so let's do brunch in the morning. Yessir.

5) Good morning class, let's just be really quiet for an hour. It's so fucking loud out there today. Trucks, horns, wind and sirens., All a combination of dereliction. Let's protect ourselves. Quiet in the back, please and sit down. Godalmighty, it's so rainy this week.

6) I sought the heart of the only breathing monster; to rip that visage would be to slick back one's hair with blood. Got high instead and watch golf. What fresh hell did you deliver this week? Reverse, time, reverse. I will have betrayed you by betrothing you to my devices. I will void you as you pass. Got a dentist appointment, but I hate having to worry so much about it. I will slay the most honest of monsters. I will consort with the fondest of enemies and I will always make the right decisions regarding my time from mow on, you bet on that.

7) The sun is out, and the whole day wasn't ruined after all. Oops, typo, I meant runnied.

8) Yes and, every now and again, the most lovely days happen upon me. I got high all day with my buddy and watched golf. Somewhere in there, I wondered about the nature of the couch on which I was sleeping. Was it the most comfortable couch? Absolutely not, no. In fact, it was a bit short for me, to be sure. It did, however, seem to grasp me and force my eyes shut. Sometimes, that is the only way to sleep. Stayed up all night watching things, thinking about the invariability of circumstance. I will do that, you know. You gotta keep an eye on me, you do.

9) Corn-eating bastard. That's all I got on that one.

10) Shine on, little lights. Expand until you no longer illuminate. Sully on, little children. Construct walls until you no longer ruminate. Carve on, little knife. Cut until you can no longer lacerate. Run on, little sentence. Continue until you can no longer exacerbate. Tie one on, little man. Drink until you can no longer contemplate. Implore on, little argument. Follow along until you can no longer debate. Press on, little machines. Pump on until you can no longer oscillate. Punch on, little bully. Strike fear, until you can longer intimidate. Fill up, little motel. Keep accepting until you can no longer accommodate. Swallow on, little bird. Eat until you can no longer gestate. Play on, little band. Sing on until you can no longer create. Press on, little talker. Go on until you can no longer elucidate. Keep on, little hammer. Smash until you can no longer defenestrate. Keep on, little dog. Hump until you can no longer copulate. Keep telling them, little writer. Write until one day they understand the point you understate. They will, it's all so desperate but they will. They have to. It's everyone against the dregs. Keep on.

A conversation part 662.8 (jarf sleepy)

2009-04-01T10:19:00.004-04:00

me: your hatred continues

and it saddens me deeply

the ole jarf

howlin

bayin at the moon

wishin for some good news from the bat

getting nothin but screeches and swoops

that ole jarf settin down like the sun

his eyes gettin heavy

his life flashin before his eyes

oh, we all expire

but this jarf is layin the problems of the world on his weak back and knees

preparin for that long damn sleep

hopin one day that ole bat will appreciate him

the jarf hears a noise; raises his tired head

scans the skies-- bleary, dark skies

skies that send a normal man home to his loving family

skies that add bleakness to a normal man's heart

yeah, but that jarf peers cheerlessly and bravely into that interminable bleakness

and sees the swoop of the bat, hears its awful screech

it's unflappable hate

the coarse thwipping of leathery wings

that ole jarf hears it all

the maddening of a generation of jarves

the howl of the jarves trapped in their country of sadness and deconstructed dreams

the sighs of the old jarves

lapping at groundwater; malnourished but used to their plight

yet still with that glimmer of hope in their eyes that one day

one day

they would look into that inescapable dark

like their mothers-- slim at sixteen

or their fathers-- sturdy at that same age

did when they were young

and find the bats

and they would sup together at the teat of forsaken's kindness

perchance to dream

Paul: i accidentally pooped all over the bathtub

sry

A Conversation, Part 662.7

2009-03-30T12:48:00.005-04:00

Paul: not sure why you hate me so much

don't recall doing anything wrong, really

yet you still hate

me: I hate not the bat in the sky

nor the snat at the power stations

Paul: snate man yellin at me

me: I hate not the lillians in the valley

nor the milesmen in their paradise

Paul: sure could use some narbins

to help freshen up

me: nor the Tedds in their habitual reign

or the MAYES standing triumphantly on high

Paul: MAYES

me: nor the wandymen, clad in their effusive attire

or the Katiebirds watching over the house, forsaken

Paul: wandy badman

me: I do not hate, I simply love

like all Jarves do.

There is, I promise.

2009-03-15T00:46:00.003-04:00

There is brilliance in human motion.

We're Partying Over Here, We Got All Kinds of Beer.

2009-03-07T13:13:00.002-05:00

A little nugget of convo. Bat and I are here w/ MAYES and we are going to get rocketbird drunj. WHO WANTS SOME? COME AND TAKE IT.

Paul: i got you a dvd of some classic bat dramas... so that you may understand our culture better

me: word

Paul: 90 min of swoopin and screechin

me: sounds like a scary movie

LAST BAT ON THE LEFT

Paul: no no its a love story

TENDER IS THE BAT

me: THE HAUNTING OF CONNECTICUT CAVE

2:11 PM Paul: THE BAT WITCH PROJECT

me: BATDAY THE 13TH

Paul: BAT TO THE FUTURE

me: BATURDAY NIGHT FEVER

ok that one didn't work

Paul: no it was good

me: thanks

Paul: DO THE RIGHT BAT

2:12 PM me: BAT PITT IN BAT CLUB

Paul: FIELD OF BATS STARRING BATVIN BATSNER

ok i have officially lost my fucking mind

me: wow

BAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF

2:13 PM Paul: horrifying movie

me: yeah, good direction though

Paul: LIFE IS BATIFUL

heart breaking

me: SLUMBAT MILLIONAIRE

Paul: THE HUNT FOR BAT OCTOBER

me: BATZ IN THE HOOD

2:14 PM Paul: MENACE TO BATCIETY

me: tupac batkur was awesome in that

Paul: THERE WILL BE BATS

oscar winner

typo

weiner

2:15 PM me: MAJOR LEAGUE 3: BAT TO THE MINORS

Paul: THE BATSUCKER PROXY

me: BATMAN

Paul: i watched major league 3 in its entirety the other weekend

me: oh god why

Paul: worst saturday afternoon in recent memory

me: scott batula

Paul: quantum bat

2:16 PM this conversation is fucking EPIC

me: it sure is

this should go up on cancer, but I have been posting too many of these

Paul: people hatn

me: mostly, I think they are scared

Paul: they fear what they don't know

2:17 PM me: exactly

2:18 PM you'll like this place bat, they let you get the snate with the autosmash of your choice

Paul: excuse me but my son is also named bat

2:19 PM me: bat gets to ride int he front seat becuase he's good at SPROTS

Lord Willing and the Snate Ain't Rise

2009-03-05T23:52:00.002-05:00

The Onus of Want
Solace sweeps the detritus under my bed into neat piles:
traces of et cetera from years of collections, a decade
of lonely crusades into failures and triumphs alike. The
more prevalent objects are sifted, true to form, like
missives found years after wars were waged.

Count them: three dustjackets, one used condom,
a tied Sunday shoe, balled up bank statements, a few
bank statements, and a clear plastic binder unused
since college containing one paper on Etheridge Knight,
the last time I really understood why I loved anything.

DROP

2009-03-04T21:54:00.001-05:00

NEWS

be sure to check out the About FH section on the right-hand side.

Continuance Granted.

2009-02-22T12:47:00.007-05:00

1) The coroner proclaimed me in good health and released me. Unpraiseworthy are the ghosts that fly. I walked from 43rd street to Brooklyn in under two hours, I swear it. I stopped in exactly none bars. Conflagrations. Congregations. Morose are the ghosts that fly. I am the spectral waste that invents your congruency. I am the flavor on your cheap cheeses and rotgut. Makeshift are the ghosts that fly. They are lifting dead weight and flirting with your memories of her or him or whomever, because, clean bill of health or no, all you have is the consistency of how you look when you really lived. Glazed eyes, throat burning for a drink. Gifted are the ghosts that fly. Contemplations. Condensation. Watch the way water slides down a cold glass like it doesn't want to do anything but arrive. I am to flippant what the debutantes are to dilettante. Gone are the ghosts that fly. Gone, gone, gone.

2) The self-contained are not so tough. I'll fight every one of you bitches. Right here. Right now. I'm one cool, confident woman right now, fists clenched. I'm tighter than a boiled raisin, I swear to you now. I swear it. I'll pop right out of my skin and defend the honor I never had.

3) Watch the man work. Moves right, moves left. Strong both ways. Pioneer of the crossover dribble, gift to mankind. Every finger lifted left to fool you right outta your socks, little man. Gotcha. Condense the best of everything and you got one move. One flash of the wrist, and off to the races. Hoo boy. That is something. that there, that is something. Best that ever lived, that man. Watch him. Did you see that? That was something. Something else.

4) I can't prove anything. This is the beauty of science.

5) I'm lonely and incapable. I'm creasing my lips and condoning it. I'm very disappointed in everyone in the room. God, the forlorn have such bitter ills. I need a cigarette and how. This conversation is driving me to smoke. It is, it really is. I'm uncomfortable and unkempt. I didn't come here for self-indictment, but it did had happens. BAH. It's all the same to me at this point. What do you want to know? I'm content with contempt and happy with the empty sides of furniture. I'm unstable and forthright. Maddening, the way you coax this out of me. Yeah, I get tired of being alone, sure. Summons the salad days. Porridge days, right? Is that all? This room? Walls, wingmen, wax. The whole world, I'm sick. Sick to death of it all, but it's amazing what tolerance borne cleanses-- the soul, the body, the mind, the end. The end. No more, please. Porridge and all that or gruel. There was a story about a kid who liked gruel. It's all he ever ate and then he died hungry or something like that. Old story, old twist. Dead in the end, the end, the end. Written in the 1800s, 1900s, today-- all the same to me. I'm tired and troublesome. I'm hungry and cornered. Lash together the last of the sticks, we'll burn them and hope for the best.

6) I'm going to rearrange my possessions according to size, today. Everything I own in a row from large to small. Maybe a lot of rows. I've got some junk, but it's utilitarian junk. See this red rubber ball? It could keep a child happy. It's useful to have a red rubber ball in case a child drops by. They can play with it and you can make cupcakes or cookies. I just always cringe to think I haven't any sugar. That would make for a bad time, but the red rubber ball is here, so I am one step beyond prepared.

7) I'm prone to air guitar. I just like to rock out, man. I just do. Don't poke fun, it's a release. Just move the fingers and rock the fuck out.

8) Oh, lady, I know it. The ants are red-jealous and the contours of their bellies are growing with age. Like ours. It's late for these kinds of weird-o metafictional metaphors, so lemme cut to the ole chase, if you will: this is the end of apologies and apoplectic word fits and incorrigible behavior and sleeping on one side of the bed specifically and dour approaches to the coldness of natural behavior and swilling beer outside in the cold and filling the sailboats of time with the sands of bitterness and taking morning walks to the basketball court only to find kids out there and turning into my father and shifting my weight so often and mulling over my terrible decisions and kicking to the curb the catcalls, leers and jeers of my peers and weakening my footholds to gain attention and knowing without being sure.

9) You seen those commercials with the guys sitting in the car being all smarmy and all that? Those guys are funny, but who talks like that? Is that the end-all? Being able to always have a comeback? Is that the reason my son won't talk to me unless we talk about sports? 'Cause I've always been a listener. A thinker. Ain't no one ever known the end of the argument before it actually ends, so just shut up. I'm entitled to know where I am going with my statement just as you are entitled to tell me you 30 seconds of psychobabble too, you sonofabitch. Carry on toward the sun with all that fancy rhetoric and I'll still lean back and listen. Don't mean anyone's right. Just means that the thorns ain't cut you and the barbs ain't stuck you unless you took your dumb ass into them woods.

10) They've shot men out of cannons, sent animals to space, cured rabidly spreading diseases, angered the sea into a rage unheralded, elected presidents, invented new types of arcane motion, flown. They've flown into frenzies, created a capitalistic society, foraged for their family's food, cleaned the slates of criminals, cried foul at the foreign nations, slain. They've quarantined cities, counted their millions, courted the finest-looking damsels, sifted through shocks of gold, inherited the ideals of their parents, passed as high priests, imbibed. They've gotten drunk with power, summoned their destinies, simulated the most perilous battles, perfected their aim, cleansed the sins of man and animal with linguistics, claimed innocence despite guilt, grasped. They've fondled their wives and husbands, denied civil rights, challenged the paradigms that drove rational thought, been the caretakers of the generation's brilliant minds, climbed to the tops of the argumentative universe, clipped newspapers featuring their names, oscillated. Still, the annals time will pass them off as crooks on top of ladders, looking down on us with disdain and without mirth. They are absolutely right about us all.

The Great War: A Primer

2009-02-21T12:49:00.003-05:00

Paul: bats hang upside down in the morning

me: I've heard this.

Paul: enjoy the shrieking-less silence

me: I don't appreciate the violent texts, bat

Paul: there were no violent texts

what you have confused for threats are actually timeless bat poetry, passed down from generations

me: quote:

oh, nevermind

Paul: the bats are proud and like to share their culture with the jarves

me: that's great

send me a collection, then.

I'd love to read it all

I'm a poetry nut, of sorts, you know?

Paul: oh we will, you know it's just when bats get caught up in the moment

we like to share our culture

we are excited about this new era of peace

me: I hope so.

THe Jarves are still hindered by worry

Paul: now why would the jarves worry

traditionally weekends have been the periods of violence in forsaken house

but the bats feel confident that this weekend will remain peaceful

me: well, then, that sounds wonderful

Paul: we only pray the snate will remain in non-smash mode

or the fragile peace could be all for naught

me: as long as no one programs him like the bats did last weekend, all shall remain calm

Paul: that is a bold and baseless accusation

me: feckless and true, but that is neither here nor there

the peace accord shall remain regardless

Paul: the only crime committed last weekend was the brutal beating of a bat repeatedly at the hands of a wild, reckless jraf

me: ridiculous poppycock

Paul: that a jarf or descendent of a jarf would do that to a bat after the countless times forsaken house emergency medical responders (largely comprised of bats) have assisted jarves with their frequently labored breathing

well,

it's just a sad state of affairs

me: Sir, I don't appreciate the baiting tactics here.

Jarves have been peaceful for all of the years of forsaken house.

Paul: JARVES WANT TO KILL THE BATS

swoopin

me: There have been little to no instances of violence, and you harp on one specifically

this is no good

Paul: shrieking

me: the jarves trust no bat

DO NOT END THIS PEACFUL TIME

Paul: CORKS WILL FILL THE AIR

me: paws air in fear

Paul: THIS WEEKEND

me: SAY IT

END THE PEACE AGREEMENT

JRAVES ARE WAITING

Paul: BEARDS WILL BURN

me: THEY STALK IN SHADOWS

WINGS WILL BE CLIPPED

Paul: LONG LIVE THE SNATE

me: WINGS WILL BE VIOLENTLY RIPPED OFF

Paul: JARF SMASHER EXTRAORDINAIRE

SNATE HE IS OUR HERO

me: YOU ADMIT IT

Paul: A TRUE MERCENARY

me: THE BATS WILL BE DESTROYED FOR ALL ETERNITY

WE SHALL SING A JARFSONG OF VICTORY

Paul: BURY THEM ALL BENEATH THE WILLOW

me: OH WE WILL

Paul: AS JERRY AS OUR WITNESS

me: KILL THE BATS

RIP THEIR WINGS

SPILL THEIR BLOOD

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSE THE JRAVES

Paul: tensions are mounting

the weekend will be fraught with worry

me: the accord was broken with your idle threats

remember that when you see the jraf

Paul: with no one to broker peace, like a miles or randy, or even a tedd... forsaken house could fall into anarchy me: I fault the bats entirely

Paul: on an entirely different note

i just decided i am going to get drunk all weekend

YES.

2009-02-09T20:40:00.004-05:00

In an era where the most convoluted contortions of music seemingly prevail with minutiae-by-methodology as lyrics and movement inspired by mundane personalities, now is the most important time to hear. Actually hear. Contend that music is to be devoured by the listener and the maker alike.

Do it. The revolution is non-existent until you do.

From Monument to Masses-- On Little Known Frequencies
The best album of last year.

There's More.

2009-02-02T01:19:00.007-05:00

1) There is no credit for any credit due-- I am a past balance, a remainder, a reminder, a rejoinder, a mating call to no one in particular. Hold particles together to charge them, give them fruit to charge them, carry them like children to charge them, throw them high off of backboards to charge them. It is 2004 and I am fed. It is 1998 and I am in bed early. It is the morning of my graduation and am gradating hues in the sun. Point directly at the spots on your shoulders-- the cancer beginnings-- and hum quietly to charge them. Cat-call the rocks that landed on your lawn to charge them. Promise them to charge them. Slide calculators under their doors and smile ear to ear to charge them. The creek rose, the corn soaked, the creases along the blankets smoothed-- all to charge them. It is 1987, 1964, 1875, and backwards we charged to charge them.

2) Pussy-ass landlord came by, I told him we ain't got it and now the notices are coming. Believe it, buster. We got a few days in paradise, tops and then gone baby gone, our time, she's up. I'm planning to leave tomorrow to scam some cash for the move. Used to be easier. Birds everywhere, car covered in shit, lights finicky, flickering off and on, but easier to be sure. Yeah to be sure, that would be nice, no? I'm gonna run my hands over the car's hood to make sure she ain't overheated. Temperature gauge is broken and the game's on in an hour.

3) I'm audibly sighing, hear? Hear that? Of course not. Made a scene two years ago and since then, there's nobody listening. Counted some chickens before they hatched and now, nobody's letting me near the eggs. You'll get yours, you fuckers. I'm going to hang you bastards out to dry. Buncha towels and shirts on a line, flapping until their ain't no more cloth. No more teeth, no more skin, no more nothing, I'm taking it all back. Mark these words, now. Use a nice ball-point pen and mark 'em. Then, we gotta get blow this joint.

4) Elegant, that is what I would call her. Lotsa long black dresses and permanent smiles, never too wide. Ballroom dancing skills to beat the band. Never coy or forward-- speaks when she is needed to do so. Cordial and cunning simultaneously. She knows her way around the parties and keeps her distance from the drama-- keeps her hands to herself and the stains off of her clothes, if you understand. You understand, right? Right? Just stay back and watch. Otherwise, you might not walk outta here with any dignity intact.

5) HOLY SH

6) Clocks. Ticking fucking clocks. My wife collects 'em and they are the death of me. Every room, her bathroom included, ticking and clicking and clanging and cooing and binging and bonging and clacking and banging and tocking and pinging and all the onomatopeias you can fucking ask for, believe you me. I decided to take the ones outta the guest bathroom and that is where I get my peace. Pictures of frogs all over the goddamned wall, but it works. I stashed a coupla old girlie mags about and this is where I go. Solace. A man, sometimes, when pushed to the edge, must annex his solace. Otherwise, he is not alive. Nope, not at all.

7) Can't you see it? It's right there. Please tell me you see it. Please. I'd give you anything-- mind, money, body, my antique rugs. You just gotta see it like I do. It's right in here in front of us. I can't make it any clearer. Nothing good can come of you not seeing this. I need this to make sense. For once. I don't know why you are here. I don't know why I brought you here. I don't know at all. Not if you can't see it right in front of you like I do. In this room, here, is the end of me. I can see it so clearly that I can't see you at all anymore. Where did you go, how did you get in?

8) Boy oh boy, this is getting nasty. They're fighting in the next room, Been at it for hours. She's yelling about respect, he's yelling about how he hates her condescension. Smart folks. They're professors-- she teaches philosophy, him language. No one ever wins. Then they fuck for hours. There is a rhythm to their arguments. His calm demeanor peaks at the beginning and end-- she wrestles with her ideals throughout. I can tell she is beautiful. I see her in long black skirts, eyeliner just past the eyes, wonderful thighs, tights. I see her in red shirts, off-yellow shirts, manic shirts while she paints. Oh, she paints. I see her in utilitarian forms, Indonesian hotels, permissive contexts, the Waldorf Astoria. I've never actually seen her; heard her yell is all. I see her in dreams, her face pouty and expectant, glorious in wait. I see her gait, I see her face lopsided in old age and still beautiful. I never, ever see her. Not once ever. It's probably best. I never see anyone anymore, to tell you the honest truth. Not today either.

9) I am not capable of love. Let's take math, for instance. Take my wrath, please. Point me in the right direction for the urinal cake specimens. What a specifically awesome catch he made there. Catch me in a cherry red quesedilla. Pardon my Frenchtastic. Consider the following things off-limits: term-life, term-limits, life-terms, terms of endearment, terms. Tip well, always, always, always. The butter of life is seldom on the bread. Culture is cut directly into the skin of the mango. Skin him alive to teach him his lesson. The mark of a champion is seldom far into his marrow. Man the ramparts, it's gonna be gray for awhile. What hath god wrought? Barbecue, that is what he hath wrought. Man alive, the way we move-- it's always almost despicable. Sort it out, then sleep. Goddamn it, sleep. All of this will make sense in the morning. If not, fuck it. The cold, like all things, will catch. Just ward it off as long as you can. Sonofabitch. Hold on, I got another call.

10) Just past the conduit to another universe, there is a sign. It is round and red on a short wooden post and it says something nearly indecipherable. Hard to read, really, because it has been weathered due to years of sun and wind and travelers tossing milkshakes at its facade. Its. It's. It is. It is hard to understand why certain objects are not replaced, but this one stands. It stands to reason that it should mean something, but it is a roadpost. The sign is probably a marker for folks knowing they have only a few more miles until they can rest after work, after shopping, after seeing your sister and Lord knows she is a handful, Lord knows. I like to imagine the sign said "If you were here by now, you'd know the way the warmth enlivens you." Sometimes, I have this dull ache over my body-- the full-scale weight of loneliness bearing over me until my arms collapse to my sides and I am motionless. The weight, it never really leaves, it is just lesser now and when I move. I am always moving, moving toward and away from this illegible sign; centralized by the pointless. God, the dull ache. Oh, the dull ache. I imagine the sign read, "It won't make a lick of difference whether the cat goes outside or is trapped in the house, if it wants to escape, the problem exists. That's all there is to it." Really, the sign says, "idge ut" almost (bridge out) and since there is no bridge anymore, it is a piece of forgotten lore. Are not we all? Are we not all? I never know how to say anything. I never know how to end anything. Or start anything. Outside my parameters, out of my system, near the orchard, cowards come back, point at the constellation, make sense. Just make some fucking sense, and then we can figure it all out, you know? We can figure this out; make sense of signs long rusted.

A Conversation, Part CLORVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

2009-01-29T10:44:00.003-05:00

Paul: you know back in the day this whole territory was wide open

jarf country

then the developers came in

me: beautiful

god's country back then

Paul: in 20 years it'll probably be even more congested and built up

what with the new SnateMan Civic Center they're planning

me: nowhere for the jarves to go

Paul: concentration camps

me: the uprising will be swift and brutal

Paul: no no it's like summer camp

me: no blood spared for the cause

Paul: but you get to concentrate

on drinking a cool michelob

me: jagged bottles protruding from the leader's thrashing body

we'll attack the civilians first, if need be

Paul: release the gas

me: next, the leader's compounds

the freed jarves will get the bounty

the bounty of freedom

Paul: when i lived at 30k randy used to sit and eat mcdonalds while i was laying on the couch. then he'd walk over to the window in front of me pretending to look to see if the bus was coming down 2nd avenue and he'd fart right in my face

me: anyone not for the revolution is against it, paul

casualties of war and all that

Paul: it was a horrible smell

me: the minions against change will not be saved

Paul: but at the end, i couldn't help but laugh

one night i peed out the window

sarah was taking forever in the bathroom

if you've ever peed out a 30th floor window... whew

what a thrill!

me: VIVA LA JARFOLUCION

Paul: people in the projects may have seen my weiner

me: THE JARVES SHALL PREVAIL

AND SING THEIR BLOODSONG OF VICTORY

Paul: weiner breeze

refreshing

A Good Time Was Had By All.

2009-01-24T15:29:00.001-05:00

Michelob, 'Cause Some Days Are Better Than Others.

2009-01-19T10:11:00.008-05:00

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

Stan: it has just started

me: Well, some days are better than others.

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

John: its a big party

i got here at 730

me: Well, some days are better than others.

John: hahaha i think ill have a michelob

me: good choice

me: How's your day thus far?

Liakos: not bad at all

doing a little baseball writing

just took a pretty solid crap

you?

me: Well, some days are better than others.

Liakos: jackass

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

Liz: well alright I guess

me: Well, some days are better than others.

Liz: got called into work at 8am

my only day off

me: You know what you need?

An ice-cold Michelob.

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

darryl: eh

me: Well, some days are better than others.

darryl: tru

me: How about an ice-cold Michelob for your troubles?

darryl: ship it

me: sold

darryl: and i thank you

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

Adam: i'm working and not many people are, so blechhh

me: Well, some days are better than others.

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

Ben is offline. Messages you send will be delivered when Ben comes back online.

me: Well, some days are better than others.

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

Rev: Y'know, it is pretty good.

(Did you mean to send that to us?)

me: Well, some days are better than others.

Rev: How is your day?

me: How about an ice-cold Michelob to help you through?

Rev: I don't drink, dummy!

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

Sara: peachy

me: Well, some days are better than others.

Sara: you sound gloomy

me: You might just need an ice-cold Michelob later, no?

Sara: who doesn't

me: good call

me: How's your day thus far?

Lillian: ehh. okay. just woke up. need to go to work.

you?

me: Well, some days are better than others.

You know what might help?

An ice-cold Michelob.

Lillian: ugh.

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

Eric: just woke up. sooooo, pretty level i suppose. yours?

me: Well, some days are better than others.

You know what might get you perky?

An ice-cold Michelob.

Goes down smooth.

Eric: as enticing as the icy smoothness of an ice cold brew is. i have a great deal to do today before beer enters the equation.

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

joey: wonderful jarf

me: Well, some days are better than others.

Know what might help?

An ice-cold Michelob.

They're smooth, like a beer should taste.

joey: jarf i said it was wonderful

me: oh, sorry.

LATE ADDITIONS
me: Hey, how's your day thus far?

margaret: pretty good

me: Well, some days are better than others.

You know what might help you climb into the "great" category?

An ice-cold Michelob.

margaret: oh wow

me: OR, perhaps if the regular lager is too much, an Michelob Light.

margaret: that is a good idea

good thing it's past noon

me: indeed

me: How's your day thus far?

Sam: boring

me: Well, some days are better than others.

me: You know what might help?

An ice-cold Michelob. Very refreshing.

Sam: NO

i refuse

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?
Grace: uh, woke up at 12:20

me: Well, some days are better than others.

Grace: oh HA HA

me: You know what might help you wake up a bit?

An ice-cold Michelob.

Grace: leaving

bye

me: Or, if you prefer, a Michelob Light?

me: Hey, how's your day thus far?Craig: new...i just got up

ain't life grand?

me: Well, some days are better than others.

Craig: apparently

me: You know what might help?

An ice-cold Michelob.

Craig:i just brushed my teeth

that sounds horrible

NOTE: This idea stolen from the excellent This Is Depression.

Classic Jerff

2009-01-18T12:25:00.004-05:00

Here's one from the old blog, Absurdist Media. I miss that blog sometimes. I went back and read some of the longer essays. Tedd and I were good at things once. So, some Classic BoL from back in the day. Enjoy.

Jeff Laughlin
2350 31^st Avenue Astoria New York 11106
(917) 202-2271

Dear Sir or Madam:

My name is Jeff Laughlin. Your Company has evidently become desperate enough to place a plea for workers on the internet. Loneliness is a curable disease. When hired, I will serve to fill the void Your Company now feels in its hollow hallways, underused break rooms and oversized bathrooms. I will run my fingers sinuously over yr wood paneling; answering the heeded calls of yr dour, scientific appeal for “2-3 years experience.”

Oh, I have experience. When hired, I will service yr needs professionally and reliably. I will layer and texture yr offices with my inbox maneuvering; manipulating yr grant statements with the care of a matriarch even during the high paced business day. I will read yr proofs—lick at yr tender words with my long red pen—and mark them ever so gently until you decide it is enough. Then I will discharge the day’s mail.

Then, in a true admission of my character, I will languidly lay over yr desk and mini kitchens caressing you with conversational hi jinx and inimitable extroversion until the hour of parting comes. Yr office parties will quiver in ecstasy with my arrival. With an enigmatic and realistic approach to Your Company’s emotions, I will tickle yr tender yet turbulent traumas and reminiscences with regard and whimsy—tactfully and artfully undressing the inner-being that lies within the mainframe of Your Company’s soul.

Your Company and I are admittedly rife for change and right for each other. End this, the sorrowful separation of our being, once and for all. Surrender your objectivity and succumb to the urges that ravage yr internal being. When hired, my proficiency to Excel through Word will reign down from the heavens like manna lavished upon the faithful. Your Company can ill afford to waste any more precious time—no matter the precociousness or timeliness of my reply. Oh, to be within Your Company’s demanding businesslike atmosphere—engrossed in the woebegone hierarchy of love!

I am proficient with HTML.

With Best Regards,
Jeff Laughlin

Bless You

2009-01-18T11:35:00.003-05:00

THAT PANDA SN

R.I.P. Lately, I've Been Thinking, the Fish.

2009-01-14T12:07:00.007-05:00

Never again shall her bright orange fins flash about my person.
Never again shall she swim me to sleep.
Never again shall shimmy toward her food-- delight creasing on the corners of her hook-free mouth.
Never again shall I introduce her to the partygoersw to have them in awe of her brilliance.
Never again shall she stare intently at my bed awaiting my first stirrings of the day.
Never again shall I worry Paul with her feedings while I am on vacation.
Never again shall she love me.
Never again shall I love another like I loved her.
Never again.

Goodbye Lately. Gone, but ne'er forgotten. I will miss you terribly. Three years of delight, but
Never Again.

ADDENDUM--

I quit drinking

2009-01-11T15:58:00.009-05:00

1) "Crackle crackle" says any fire you ask. Not kidding, ask it anything: omg can I have a van? It will just smoke and say, "crackle crackle." Well, I got tired of it around Christmastime '97 and I started screaming at the sunuvabitch and now I am still behind a glass partition outside of the city . I swear, all they play here is rap music. All of it, garbage. Give me a good band like the Randymans anyday, you know? I'm gonna miss their millennium party, damnitall.

2) Court and courtesan, motherfuckers. Hand me those jellybeans, won't you? They are on the counter next to the bananas. The bananas are in a big brown bowl. The bananas are still good and if they die, I will memorialize them in bread. The bread will rise like a ghost above its grave, all smattered in flour or spectral waste. Whichever comes first. Rise, bread, rise and turn us slowly into our stones. The black people outside are taunting that poor dog and I know for a fact that they don't live in this neighborhood but who lives anywhere anyway anymore anyway. It's all relative, you see.

3) This isn't the same scenario. I love this girl, but she ain't love me back. Not like last time where I was forcing it, you know? Feels natural like Levis hugging your hips while you sit at the end of the bar sipping whiskey-gingers just before the game starts. Shit, it's already 8 and I ain't been home in 73 hours, not gonna start now. There, the closets are closest to my heart. They'll find the bb gun I used to kill that bird in first grade, but by then I'm long gone-- states away with my pecker running deep in this broad. She wore lace over her lily white shoulders, but that don't mean shit. I'm the damn umbrella protecting us from each other's acid rain. I'm holding up fine, I swear upon the ideal souls of the religious men and you'll never meet better ones. Not here, anyway.

4) Cool it, college boy. You're stepping real close to my dog, Rambone, and he don't fucking shit on anything worse than you. Gimme twenty minutes alone with your girl and she'll beg for twenty more. You ever seen a man skin a shark? Didn't think so. Come to think of it, I'll take that rucksack. Might need something to spit in. Over along the hedges, there's fifty ounces of piss in a series of old-school coke cans. Put 'em there in 1974, when I was studying here. Dropped out to serve my country halfway across the county. Air National Guard. Found my wife in bed with a beagle of a man like you. Ripped out my own throat. Howie Mandel? Hate him. Hate 'em all, that's what I say. I say, you got time? Buy a watch, you bastard.

5) Hands, hands, fingers, toes. Where they go, nobody knows. Hold it-- my phone's ringing. Ugh, creditors. Once, they called me and asked if I was on the right path. I told them, "I've attended more events than in years past, I know that much." To this, they had no answer. I'm wearing a jacket, but it's hot. I'm carrying a credit card, but have nothing to buy with it. I'd purchase shinola before feces, and now, I have to go. There's a sweet showcase tonight at the Bravado Bean. The Colton Seven are playing and those chicks wail.

6) I know that cat will love me. Give me time. I just gotta show my warm side. I just gotta stick out my hand. I just gotta stop believing in myself. I just gotta hold my feet back behind my waist and look vulnerable. I just gotta. Poorly formed excuses, an unfinished book, three birds outside my window with distinctive voices, the exterior of a man well ahead of his own pace at all times: these are the secrets to cat ownership and I've got all of them. That, and that alone is enough to win us all a few carnival prizes or, at the very very least, win that cat over. It will love me or I will die right here, my fake knee to God.

7) Congratulations, man. I knew you had talent, but seven? SEVEN? SEVEN? That is something serious, I swear. I'm really proud. The way you do it, though-- the grease-fire quickness with which you move-- hot damn-- it's something serious. Really very serious. I'm not kidding, brother. You got cannons for legs and pickled arms. I mean, it's cold and you got seven. SEVEN. I love you, and I have never said that to one person in my entire life. Not one time, much less like you. Seven.

8) Serotonin levels low, it seems. Gotta get some meds. Robots won't allow it, though. They mad. They givn me some problems-- yeln. Fukn shit. Gotta get some meds-- tired all of a sudden, nothing within reach and the robots yeln. Oh God, listn. Lissn.

9) I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. I'm around. Gime.

10) This is it. This is the big one. You remember how Redd Foxx used to say that on Sanford and Son? Who've I got to unload these memories on? I'm alone at sixty-three. I won't live to see seventy. Life is a series of disappointments and missed appointments at my age, son. I got wounds I can't reach to lick. I'm licked. I'm a stray dog wandering around my house waiting for someone to take me in. I was cool, once. Wore Brut cologne. Fucked my share of bunnies, drank and drove. It was sport, back then. If I don't touch something soft before I die, Lord knows I'll die guns blazing. I've got the look. Still, after all these years, I've got the look. Fucking Mexicans. They'll get theirs, and mix me a strong drink, wouldja? Say, there, a little more whiskey, a little less of your weak pitching arm. I ain't gotta work tomorrow or nothing. Or ever again, if I don't feel like it. I'll make a series of women cry with passion before it's over, even if I gotta buy 'em and prove something. Fucking Arabs. Nobody gonna tell me how to vote. Give me that drink, I'm thirstier than a snake in a dance club. Good mix, son. The olden days of basketball, this was how you served a drink. Catch the ball with two hands, no dunks, no threes. None. Norm Sloan, Vic Bubas, Red Auerbach, none of this pussy flop shit. Fucking Argentinians and Euros. Nope, none of that. Bill Russell was twice the hero of Reggie Jackson. Three times. Fucking Yankees. John Riggins. No one gonna tell me how to vote. The wise were once the holy, but now, everybody's got a goddamned opinion.

reso

2009-01-01T16:14:00.003-05:00

Annual New Years' Resolution post. Read this and know my pain.

Resolutions:
Be nicer to small dogs
Stop worrying so goddamn much about money now that more people have to
Listen to my mother
Make a spaceship out of old constrictor plates
Listen to more T.I and Young Jeezy
Buy fake money to make it rain often
Rock

There you have it.

Happy fucking new year, duders.

bacon?

2008-12-30T00:16:00.000-05:00

bacon.

drunj

2008-12-19T00:27:00.005-05:00

I'll bet anything that you were a walrus and you made suits out of eel skin and you found your love in a handbag or maybe a gladrag or maybe you left three ounces of cocaine in a rucksack in new england and you let me touch a hot stove to teach me a lesson and you made thirteen different calls to thirteen different countries and knew every one of the people you called and you sabotaged my only chance at love and you left a message on my machine after I disconnected it in 2005 to buy a cellphone and you made the most wonderful comments about me at parties when I was just out of earshot and listened to him speak when he was at his best and knew the oldest way to spark a fire in an eagle's belly and courted the finest of men in the middle ages and you slipped behind a bird's nest and robbed the eggs and you flaunted your looks to lonely, sloppy beagles and faulted the refs for that last call and called me on my birthday but hung up when it went straight to voicemail or maybe you were at my party but goddamnit I been drunj for five years maybe six and I got nothing left for you or anyone else sometimes, you were made of the expectorate rising from my breath in cold weather-- rising just above my head but disappearing just as you crested from visibility and man oh man winter is my favorite month of the year