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03/01 Direct Link
We were on vacation in Mexico for three months and during that time she brought home a relatively large amount of cocaine from the bar we were both working at.

It just so happens the person who stayed in the apartment before us was diabetic and had left some syringes behind.

I had a history of injecting heroin and cocaine and I actually talked her into shooting up.

She made the mistake of trying to keep up with me and collapsed on the floor.

If she had died, I probably wouldn’t be here typing this: I’d be dead or imprisoned.
03/02 Direct Link
“I am but mad North-Northwest: when the wind is Southerly I can tell a hawk from a handsaw”--Hamlet

I sometimes feel like my imagined lunacies are becoming true lunacies and are rapidly overtaking me. I drink so heavily, at times, to kill the stark raving madness but it only awakens the Beast and then I scream my guts out and destroy everything I can get my hands on. What’s worse is not remembering any of it and hoping I didn’t kill anyone. So far there haven’t been any police at my door and there doesn’t seem to be blood anywhere…
03/03 Direct Link
Can you feel me crawling around your insides? Can you hear me tickling the back of your brain with my words? Do you get the feeling that someone’s watching you? See images on the edge of your peripheral vision that aren’t there when you look in that direction? That sudden burst of pain? That was me. That nausea that brings you to your knees? Also me. The sudden realization that you’re going to die horribly and tragically? Yes, you can thank your lucky stars, it’s me. I’m the greatest guardian angel anyone’s been blessed with. And I’m all yours… forever.
03/04 Direct Link
Click click clickclick click

Whir whir buzz whir clank
Beboop beep beep bee ee boop oop

Tock ock tock tock tock tock tock ssssssssss



*cough*

Fwoosh! Ch-chch-chagunk Zzzz--bzzt! Pssht chk, chk…





CRACKATHOOM!





“Ugh, what the hell was that?”

“Kaz ma no banto mego thorp.”

“What the hell’d you just say?”

“Panono megosh sp’entar me’ja’sha.”

“What the fuck is going on?!”

“Gorp. Gorp mee na pat, zeb mee cloziat.”

“Okay, that’s it! I’m gonna wake up now; I’ve had enough.”




Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boop. Beep.
03/05 Direct Link
So there I was: dead for the, what was it, seventh or eighth time (or was it nine?) and just starting to feel consciousness creep its way back into my brain when I notice I’m only wearing underwear. I mean, it’s bad enough that my date is gurgling in her own blood (talk about bad first impressions) and these kids who idolize me had to watch me get my brains blown all over the sidewalk but, chrissakes, why am I standing here in my underwear?! The ones with the big hole in the ass cheek, no less. Talk about embarrassing.
03/06 Direct Link
“… and, I swear to Methuselah, the meat just falls off the bone! You gotta try ‘em, m’man!”

“Can you order ‘em without the sauce, though? That shit gets all over your fingers, then your clothes, then all over the insides of the car. I hate that shit.”

“So use a fuckin’ napkin! What’re you, some kinda goddamn bum? Ya got no manners?”

“It ain’t just that, I like to taste the meat, not somebody’s fucking “award-winning” sauce that they drown that fucking shit in. Know what I mean?”

“Look, you gonna embarrass me then I ain’t goin’ with you.”
03/07 Direct Link
Devon looked outside and moaned; it was raining chili again. For the third time this week, chili splattered with great force against everything. Small children were outside, mouths agape, in an attempt to catch the large clumps of beef and beans. Devon trudged to the door with a pot in his hand.

Why’s it have to be chili again? Devon thought. Why not bacon and eggs? Steak and potatoes? Green bean casserole?

Lousy epicureologists, what’d they know about the food weather anyway? As he headed outside, the radio announcer’s voice mocked him: “…with a 66 percent chance of chicken wings.”
03/08 Direct Link
The ring glimmered in the half light; soft, silvery tones were muted by the cobalt blue spread throughout. The pinky nail-sized ruby in the center appeared to fold in upon itself endlessly, a world within a world within a world.

Marshall looked up from the ring and his gaze fell upon the robot that towered four stories overhead. The ring had the amazing power to control the massive construct. Any notion that crossed Marshall’s mind was instantaneously transferred to the robot, wherein thought became action.

Marshall placed the ring on his finger; the robot hummed to life, awaiting its orders.
03/09 Direct Link
1 2 3 4 5 6 seven 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 twenty 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 thirty-five 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 fifty-seven 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100
03/10 Direct Link
Amazing aardvarks anticipate ants.
Bulbous bear’s bloodlust beckons.
Clandestine cannibals create complications.
Dreary Dracula’s depressing demeanor.
Eleven elegant elephants elevated.
Fleeing Freemasons’ frightening flatulence.
Glumly gripping grotesque gophers.
Helen has hellish hallucinations.
Imagine Imogene’s imitating imp.
Jesus joins jamming Jews.
King Kermit’s killer kimono.
Lascivious lovers linger languorously.
Meandering milquetoast’s meager moccasins.
Neurotic Neanderthal’s numb nipples.
Oversized overcoat opens ominously.
Philanthropic philosopher’s photogenic phallus.
Queer quipster’s quondam Queen.
Rampaging rams remain resolute.
Seared swordfish smells succulent.
Tipsy tripping traipsing teenagers.
Ugly underwear upsets undertakers.
Vehement villain’s velvety verbiage.
Water worrisome wildebeests warily.
Xanthous xenophile Xeroxes xenocurrency.
Young yoked yaks yawning.
03/11 Direct Link
Once upon a time there was a guy who didn’t use proper grammar and sometimes missspelled words and loved run-on sentences and couldn’t help but just keep typing regardless of what came out on the screen and just let it flow and didn’t give a crap what other people thought because none of them impressed him anyway and it was supposedly all about having fun so that’s what he tried to do even though it was all just a bunch of meaningless words and ten million years from now what difference would it make or ten minutes for that matter
03/12 Direct Link
It had been decided that all of the children in the world were to be eaten. Cafes sprung up around the world and you could go right in and order food the same as you would in any other restaurant. If properly prepared, no one could tell the difference; meat was meat. Eventually, fast food joints participated, which gave a whole new meaning to a Kids Meal.

Soon after, world peace was achieved and it dawned on everyone that most of the global problems (famine, disease, war, pollution) had been attributed to children. Killing and eating children had solved everything.
03/13 Direct Link
“Oh, yeah?! Well, you’re about as poetic as a pair of prom queen’s panties!”

“Is there blood in ‘em?”

“What the fuck’s that have to do with anything? Yer missin’ the point, asshole!”

“I find bloody panties to be quite poetic, that’s all. Now, bloody panties and a shit stain and you’ve got yourself an Ode for the Ages.”

“You’re fucking pathetic! I wish I could stab your eyes out!”

“You mean, like this…?”

“Aaaaarrrrrgggghhhhh! Help! Help me! Oh, fucking Jesus! AAAaaaaarrrrrggghhhh!”

“Yeah, maybe you’ll watch your fucking mouth next time.”

“Oh, God! Goddammit! God fucking damn YOU!

“Who’s not poetic?”
03/14 Direct Link
Spider-Man saves a mayoral candidate from a villain then pursues the villain into an abandoned building.
The villain has super powers and catches Spidey unawares (so much for his Spider Sense), nearly tearing his mask from his head.
Spider-Man shoots webbing into the eyes of the villain and the villain crashes into a gas tank, starting a fire.
The villain, and the building, goes up in flames!
Before Spidey can save the villain, the floor gives way and the villain plunges to his doom (or does he?).
The police show up and Spider-Man makes a quick exit before being arrested.
03/15 Direct Link
I awakened encased in a boulder. Altogether, the experience was quite strange. All that could be seen of me was my head, half of my right arm, three of the fingers on my left hand and my left heel; everything else was completely enclosed by solid granite. It was a bit claustrophobic, to say the least, and I did my best to not panic. I tried to remember what my science teacher had said to do if one became trapped in stone. Unfortunately, that topic had never come up or I had only memorized it to pass a test. Crap…
03/16 Direct Link
I know you’re spying on me, that’s why you’re reading this. You’re hoping I’ll let slip some information that you can use against me or to feed your paranoia about why things are the way they are. Well, too bad, ‘cause it ain’t gonna happen. There’s nothing to divulge, no insidious plot against you, no skeletons hiding in my closets. You need to come to the realization that you are a failure; you can’t blame others for your shortcomings. Stand on your own two feet and actually do some of the things you’ve incessantly talked about .

And leave me alone.
03/17 Direct Link
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And don’t you forget it.
03/18 Direct Link
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking?
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
Giant babies are attacking!
03/19 Direct Link
The circus had been in disarray ever since the Great Svengali had run off with the Ringmaster’s wife; ticket sales were in decline and it was getting harder and harder to feed the animals. Additionally, the performers were adopting the manners of a mutinous crew.

The Tattooed Man was in collusion with the Bearded Woman while the Sword Swallower and the Reptile Man had their own secrets they were harboring. This left the Bird-Faced Man and Monkey Boy out in the cold and neither of them trusted each other enough to form a bond. Something had to give, but what?
03/20 Direct Link
-- So does anything crazy happen while you’re driving cab?

-- No, not really; not that I can think of.

-- I gotta tell ya, working in a porn store is pretty “interesting.”

-- Oh yeah? I can imagine.

-- Yeah, there’s this one guy we had to “86” from there ‘cause he liked licking the dried jizz off the floor.

-- What!? That’s insane!

-- Yeah but even crazier: my boss makes us take home two porns per week then gives us tests to make sure we watched them.

-- You’re assigned porn homework?

-- Yeah, he quizzes us.
03/21 Direct Link
She: I’ll give you $50,000 if you can guess which CD is in my CD player. It’s something way out of character for me.

He: Okay, well, do I get some kind of clue?

She: Okay, yeah… It’s something that was popular when I was a kid.

He: When I was a kid?

She: How old are you?

He: Twenty-seven.

She: Hmmm, yeah, well... right on the cusp.

He: So it’s not the Grease Soundtrack?

She: No.

He: Is it Abba?

She: No but I secretly love them.

He: How about Prince?

She: Nope.

He: Then who?

She: Elton John.
03/22 Direct Link
The smell in the bathroom had become increasingly funky, she attributed it to boys being boys. However, the foot-and-ass smell that had been prevalent ever since she could remember had grown considerably more powerful over the last few days. She made a point of mentioning it to Erik and he acknowledged her with a grunt that said he agreed.

He crawled under the house, examined the sewer line and found pounds and pounds of human waste clogging the conduit. Erik extracted approximately ten pounds of shit, buried some in the backyard and also used it as fertilizer in the garden.
03/23 Direct Link
Poetry Glossary


Assonance: the repetition of identical or similar vowel sounds.
Ambiguity: multiple meanings a literary work may communicate, especially two meanings that are incompatible.
Stanza: usually a repeated grouping of three or more lines with the same meter and rhyme scheme.
Blank verse: unrhymed iambic pentameter. Blank verse is the meter of most of Shakespeare’s plays.
Alliteration: the repetition of identical or similar consonant sounds, normally at the beginning of words.
Caesura: A pause or break in a line of verse, created most often by punctuation.
Consonance: the repetition of consonant sounds in the middle or end of words.
03/24 Direct Link
Poetry Glossary (cont.)


End-Stopped: a line with a pause at the end; lines that end with a period, comma, colon, semicolon, exclamation point, or question mark.
Syntax: the arrangement of words in a sentence.
Onomatopoeia: the use of words whose sound suggests their meaning.
Simile: a directly expressed comparison; a figure of speech comparing two objects, usually with “like,” “as,” or “than.”
Slant Rhyme: while not a “hard” rhyme, the words share one or more sounds to form what is also called an “off” rhyme.
Meter: the pattern of repetition of stressed and unstressed syllables in a line of verse.
03/25 Direct Link
"Do You Suffer From Phobia of Deer?"

Those words stood out on the website I’d stumbled upon. I certainly seemed to exhibit all of the symptoms: “breathlessness, excessive sweating, dry mouth, shaking, heart palpitations, inability to speak or think clearly, a fear of dying, becoming mad or losing control, a sensation of detachment from reality or a full blown anxiety attack.”

Finally, there was hope for me; the website claimed “a way out.” I could be “confident and at ease in situations” again. I put down the syringe and reached for the telephone, eager to overcome my crippling phobia of deer.
03/26 Direct Link
i was twelve years old and this is what i remember:

my stepfather, tom, had been arrested for selling counterfeit hash to an undercover cop.

my mother dragged me with her to downtown new orleans to bail him out of jail.

upon our arrival to jail, we were led to the basement, which was dank and dark and reminded me of a dungeon.

tom stood near the bars of his cell and spoke new lies to my mother.

i was wide-eyed, felt small and scared, and clung nervously to my mother’s arm.

i desperately wished he would never get out.
03/27 Direct Link
Graylock stopped running and looked up into the sky: the triple moons were aligning and the air was growing thicker and greener. It was 500:50:3290 and Graylock was late; if he didn’t hurry, Mutosa would make a spectacle of him again. That would make twice in one week, something unheard of in recent memory. To have that dubious distinction would make Graylock appear feeble to the Senglory Nation. His membership would no doubt be nullified and he would be placed on the list of prey until he killed the first-born son of the Tribal Leader. Graylock smiled and sat down.
03/28 Direct Link
“Hi, mom, meet my bi-polar, ex-stripper, broke, forty-four year old girlfriend on parole. Love her as I do.” A pillow fwumped into Nevada’s head. It was thrown by Michele, his aforementioned girlfriend.

“Is that really how you’re going to introduce me to your mother?” she asked.

“I can even do it in this faux-Ed McMahon voice, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, introducing…’, I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of it, and you,” Nevada threw the pillow back at Michele, “Now go, it’s your turn.” He pointed to the Scrabble board.

What a life, Michele thought, Play lots of Scrabble and fuck.
03/29 Direct Link
Why am I doing this? What does it matter? Who am I? Who’s clothes are these? Where is that voice coming from? What voice? That voice. Maybe if I close my eyes I’ll find it. Where’d those stars come from? Why do my hands feel slimy? Am I sweating? Am I dirty? What’s that shiny thing right in front of me? What am I chewing? And where’d my left leg go? My chest feels two-dimensional. Have I crawled under the sidewalk again? Curled up like lichen infested elephant skin? Which way is up? Who are you? And where‘d you go?
03/30 Direct Link
Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me.

Thirty-six years.
Four hundred thirty-two months.
One thousand eight hundred seventy-two weeks.
Thirteen thousand one hundred forty days.
Three hundred fifteen thousand three hundred sixty hours.
Eighteen million nine hundred twenty-one thousand six hundred seconds.

That’d be fun to mess with people when they ask,

“How old are you?”

“Oh, I’m four hundred thirty-two months old.”

They’d get that confused / irritated look on their face and either shrug their shoulders and let it go or maybe ask again,

“Seriously, how old are you?”
03/31 Direct Link
I plunged the knife blade deep into my thigh and cut back towards myself until my leg splayed open to the size of a football; the blood that pooled at my feet reminded me of the time the ‘fridge had leaked all over the kitchen floor. I severed the adductor magnus muscle from its attachment to my femur and again near my pubis bone then pulled the large triangular muscle free and rolled it into a ball shape. The chemical reactions had already begun that were transforming the muscle into an explosive device. I crouched in the darkness and waited.