"You must learn to grasp only what you desire."

The strange man known by no name lowered his hand into a glass vessel of cold water. His fingers slowly probed and flexed, searching, searching. Small bubbles began to form and rise along the inside of the glass. Very soon the bubbles grew large and violent, obscuring the man's hand. The audience gasped as he slowly lifted his hand out of the boiling water. He held aloft a perfect sphere of ice.

"A miracle!", shouted an onlooker.

The stranger's voice boomed. "No! Water from water is no miracle!"

Then he vanished.

I wiped my eyes. Green slime dripped from my armour. The interloper stood 100 meters away, eyeing me suspiciously. I barely flinched as a third volley of slime was lobbed my way. Once again it splashed off me like a bucket of warm water. Was this a weapon? Was it supposed to harm me in some way? I wasn't accustomed to being splashed with such large quantities of warm Jell-o. It wasn't entirely without pleasure. A feeling of invincibility, I concluded.

But I was here to do a job. I raised my gun and shot the alien between the eyes.

As I walk down the hall I fantasize.

What will greet me behind that door?

She will be wearing a housecoat - loosely tied - and nothing else. We will not speak. I will close the door behind me and gaze into her into her lustful eyes. She will grab me by the collar and draw me into a passionate kiss. I will press her up against the wall and grow. She will push me away, smirk, then turn and walk towards the bedroom, dropping her robe as she rounds the corner. I smile and follow.

I knock and hope.

Summer winds blowing softly over yellow flowers and slimy slugs. Clouds hovering in the air, watching our every move. Cheese spilling off the burgers onto the coals and sizzling. Butterflies keeping chaos in order. Hot sun and hotter ashphalt, don't get hit by that car! Oh no! You did! Are you hurt? Damn. looks like your leg is broken? We should get you to the hospital. I think that cloud is laughing. You'll need a cast. Can I write my name on it? I can? Cool, thanks man. I'll call 911 now. Can I borrow your cell? Thanks. Hold tight.

The polar bear spotted motion on the horizon and instinctively lurched forward across the tundra. His muscles soon ached as they consumed his body's last remnants of fuel. This chase would end in death, one way or another.

As the bear approached, breathless and limping, the man stood his ground. The recognition was mutual. He had raised this bear from a cub. They had helped one another through many cold winters. Seeing it suffering in hunger, as he was, he knew it would be dead within a day, as he would be.

Perhaps they could help each other once again

The attention of the interstellar loggers was fixed on the massive trees before them. Just one trunk would fill their ships entire hold - one million cubic meters.

The natives had heard the old stories, passed down through the generations. Their roots go deep. But the loggers ignored all warnings and grew giddy as the cutting beam sliced several meters into the trunk.

Without warning, a burst of steam erupted from the slit, followed by a fiery fan of molten rock.

For years afterwards, the natives would watch the gruesome and painful deaths on repeats of "Zorlexx IV's Scariest Home Videos-.

If I were an astronomer I'd stare at the sky and find new stars and name them after you. I'd plot my course and build a ship and fly to every one. I'd gather them up and wrap them in paper and bring them back to Earth. I'd lie you down and sprinkle them over you and they'd bounce down to the floor. I'd sweep them up and put them in a box and fly them back to space. I'd place them in the shape of a heart and watch them reflect in your eyes. If I were an astronomer.

If I were a truck driver I'd ignore the yellow lines and drive on the wrong side of the road. I'd have a black truck with thirty three wheels and a five cart 8-track player. I'd smash into cars and flip them over and talk on my million watt CB. "My callsign is Mack and I drive a big truck. Watch out, or I'll crash you all up!" I'd haul nachos and beans and cheese and beef and go 10 miles an hour. I'd drive in my sleep and eat while I drive, and wish I weren't a truck driver.

If I were a hammock maker I'd test all my work. I'd sleep in each one three times a day. I'd sleep on my back, my stomach and head. I'd sleep lightly and heavy and piss-loaded drunk. I'd swing from side to side and toss and turn and bounce. I'd light it on fire and hit it with goats. I'd catch rainbow tuna and giant butterfly. I'd admire the knotwork and show it to strangers. I'd paint it blue and green and sweet and spicy. I'd sell them to doctors and presidents and ghosts. If I were a hammock maker.

Winter. Freshly fallen snow covers a rooftop. Icicles drip from the eves, glistening in the morning sunlight. Across the country, an avalanche kills two skiers.

Spring. Crystal clear streams trickle down from the mountains. Nearby, floodwaters destroy a wooden bridge.

Summer. Billowing clouds dot the sky. Wisps of mist cover the bay like pieces of cotton candy. Across the ocean, tsunamis devastates a coastline.

Autumn. A light rain subsides, leaving behind a vivid rainbow. Elsewhere, a heavy hailstorm cracks car windshields.

They say humans are mostly water. Perhaps that's why we too can be both so beautiful and so terrible.

Summer is the time for crazy silly goofy. Less time on the keyboard, more time on the outside. To that end, I'm getting a monkey and I'm going to train it to write these entries. A monkey with a little pink hat and a big fat cigar, picking proverbial insects from the fur that is life, and posting them here, devoid of meaning - nonsense to the max. For its first task, it will now finish this entry!

pg vm,. ;piol,mmmmmmmmm aatrklj;/m, lmkmlkm;jjjjjljkkkkkkk kn,.kj;lk .jkkkkk h ytuyuuuuuuuuuugj hg j vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vv kjn.m,,,,,,,,, jbhn mb bm nb mn mb, ewrqcx,m ,.mm kj

So I'm walking along the tracks and the train is coming (slowly), so I get off the tracks and glance down the side of the train. I see this guy standing in the door of one of the boxcars taking a piss. Well, if he doesn't finish up in the next 20 seconds, I'm gonna get pissed on. Not one to take chances, I take off my watch and toss it onto the closest rail. The trail hits it, it breaks, and time stops. Quick thinking. Problem solved. No piss on me, and no one needs a watch now anyways.

I wish you were here, dancing on the rings of Saturn with those crazy colourful shoes of yours. Yesterday I went to Pluto and built a water park, but the water just froze. It was crazy cold there. To warm myself up I took a swim in Jupiter, but I didn't get very good cell reception, and figured you might call. So I toweled off went to a donut shop on Neptune, and stayed until it closed. It's lonely up in space, all alone. Maybe Earth will let me back on if I apologize for eating the moon. Mmm. Cheese.

"I set off the perimeter alarms right away, of course. Not even a creature as small as me could sneak past undetected. The fall was the worst part. I could have jumped to a tree, but I needed the broken hind leg to ensure they would take me in. ‘Just a stray', reported the guard. ‘Daddy, can I keep it?' asked the daughter. All went according to plan. I went through usual weapon, bio and tox scans. Those relvealed no evidence, of course. I gathered a lot of good inellegence sir, so without further ado, here is my full report...-

I'm not sure what this switch does. When I flick it, nothing seems to happen.

I‘m pretty sure it was intended to do something. I took the cover plate off and noticed wires attached, but couldn't tell where they went. All the lights in the house have their own switches, and it doesn't control any of the outlets. Perhaps it's for a ceiling fan that was never installed, or removed before we moved in.

But maybe it does control something, somewhere that I don't know about. If that's the case, the question is: Should I leave it on? Or off?

It was but a whisper, yet it was heard around the world.

Those who heard him believed beyond all doubt. They said his eyes told them it was true. All others believed when they heard of his heart-breaking words and his magical deeds. But what they heard only gave focus to what they already knew to be true.

And he who they now revered and feared smiled at his achievement. For he knew that if he revealed himself as who he truly was, only a few would believe.

Who is more likely to leave their domain to walk the Earth?

A stranger stepped into the cave.

A witch with a particularly colourful wart stepped forward and directed a third, fourth and fifth eye at the man. A low hypnotic voice emerged. "You will henceforth follow my command.. Leave! At once! And never return!" The man just stared. Another witch screeched and threw her hand towards the sky. A blinding bolt of lightning enveloped the man, who simply blinked. Next, a rickety old staff was thrust into the air, casting a shadow at the man's feet. The ground creaked and opened, but he did not fall.

One witch watched and giggled.

He took the appropriate precautions. He'd altered his biorhythms to simulate being under the influence of mescaline and rye, and watched the mark through reflective reconstruction - no direct visualization, for that may be detected. The information he'd been given seemed accurate. No sense in delaying the kill.

Without looking, he took aim. His chest exploded.

As he slumped to the ground he realized his mistake, but also smirked in defiance. He'd had his vital organs repositioned, otherwise the slug would have incinerated his heart. As he passed into unconsciousness he resolved not to make the same mistake next time.

Today is Garfield's birthday. That crazy lazy orange cat with black stripes and sarcastic comments. And today is Monday. Garfield HATES Mondays. Strange. He doesn't work or go to school. Monday for him should be no different than any other day, really. Perhaps he is empathetic towards the rest of us. Perhaps he is sad that his owner Jon goes off to work, leaving him to be tormented by that brainless dog Odie all day.

No, not even remotely plausible.

Of course the real reason is that cartoonist Jim Davis is simply capitalizing on our own hatred for Monday's. Smart.

The waves break upon the shore like my popcorn against the ass of the guy who barged past me in the movie theatre last night.

As the waves retreat, the sun glistens off the moist sand like the fluorescent lights off my concrete floor after I had wet-vac'd the floodwaters from my basement.

The soft breeze plays among the tall grasses along the boardwalk. I really should get off my ass and mow the lawn.

Deer prancing near the forests edge. I need to walk the dog tonight.

Birds chirping, traffic beeping.

Leaves blowing, need to start raking.

Nature rocks.

Twelve years of generic research and experimentation. Fifteen years of breeding and selection. Five years of surgery and training. Four billion dollars spent by the time the first of its species was revealed. The Pegasus.

The first models sold for 250 million, each. Sterile, and they couldn't fly of course. But they could keep their wings folded then spread them on command. The second generation models sported larger hearts and thicker ribs, and therefore lived twice as long. The third design could breed, but the wings would break during birth.

Demand decreased, stock plummeted and another species quietly became extinct.

For two? Smoking or non? Right this way. Your server will be right with you. Hi, I'm Greg, can I get you two any drinks while you decide? Pepsi okay? Great. Be right back. A few more minutes? Great. Are we ready to order? Okay. And you? How would you like that done? Great. Thanks! Here we are. Cheese or pepper for either of you? Great. Enjoy your meal. Is everything going okay here? Great. Are we done here? Any dessert? Tea? Coffee? Great. Certainly, I'll be right back. Here you go, have a great night! A $4 tip?? Fuckers.

Hey guys. I have nothing to say today. Nothing interesting comes to mind. There's no use trying to force it. I figure it's better to just be honest with you. I'll admit, I didn't try very hard. I didn't look for inspiration hiding in the nooks and crannies of the basement. I didn't write down a list of potential subjects and spend a minute or two brainstorming on each one. No, I just started writing this. In fact, you might as well just skip to the next entry now. No promises it will say anything either. Oh look, I'm done.

A little about myself..

I am a recovering optimist, but I'm sure that someday I'll have a relapse.

I lack discipline.

I am painfully aware that I have not learned from the mistakes I have made in the past, and have therefore changed my ways.

I have 3 spelling bee throfys

Sometimes I can control what I do in my dreams. Sometimes I only dream that I can control what I can do in my dreams. (Maybe it's only the latter.)

I often put off until the last minute things that only take a minute to do.

I like nachos.

Yah yah yah, I heard ya! ya little pecker. I ain't deaf.

Sure, I'll answer yer questions. But you better listen good. I talk low, under my breath, on purpose ya see. That way I weed out the ones that don't listen.. the overtalkers.

Nobody listens, everyone just talks. Me included. I talk a lot. But I'm allowed... got that? You do it, conversation over. Maybe I'll stab you in the neck with that pen of yours and write a victory poem with your blood.

Heh. Don't worry kid.. Haven't done that in a looong time. Broke the habit.

Siddown.

Yeah, those damn crickets woke me again last night. Five AM. Musta been one the size of a pick-up truck out there. Louder than a car alarm I tell ya. No need for all that racket. What's a car alarm doin' on a cricket anyways? Steal the fucker. I don't care.

So I threw a half empty glass of beer at it.. Turns out I hit my pickup truck instead. Damn metaphors always screw up my aim.

Huh? Yeah, half full, half empty. Whatever. I alternate. Keep the universe balanced. Don't try to analyze me, boy! No use in that.

This morning my truck smelled of beer, there was a cracked plastic cup on the ground, and my hands were covered in someone elses blood.

Damn.

It was my grandfathers cup. From his wedding. I ferget which one. He gave it to my father on his thirteenth birthday. Dad carried it through both world wars. Used it to catch hermit crabs and oysters in the jungle. Saved his life countless times. He gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday. It made a damn good radar detector.

Guess I gotta give it a proper burial. I'm diggin' a hole anyways.

Technology's gonna kill us all I tell ya. I saw these lightswitches in the store.. ten cents each! Means it costs 5 cents to make! Hell, I ain't trusting my life to a 5 cent piece of shit plastic. So I went to the grocery store and bought some forks and some frozen drumsticks and wired ‘em up. Now I just stick the fork in the chicken to turn on the lights. Works as a dimmer switch too, dependin' where I stick the fork. Takes about a week to cook it, depending on how long I leave the lights on.

Yeah, I have a couple dogs. Real stupid ones. The other day one of ‘em bit into one of my lightswitches. He was trying to run off with the chicken. Fuckin' sparks flew from his ears when he bit in. But he didn't give up, no sir. He bit in again and one of his testicles shot across the room into my ice cream I was eatin' at the time. I tell ya, the five second rule don't apply in that type of situation... you got about 2 seconds before it melts in. Especially with wild raspberry swirl. Take note.

I was out on the tractor mowin' my lawn last night, when the cops wake me up. Apparantly I was cuttin' the same spot for 3 hours. Neighbours complained I was keeping them awake. It was only 2AM. I didn't mind.. it was their gas. At least I didn't run over their dog again.

Heh. No, I didn't run over their dog. Not on purpose anyways. Ran over its chain, and the mower caught on and sucked it in like a fly on the end of a frog's tongue. I call my tractor ‘frog' now. Wanna go for a ride?