"There were three trains going north and my mother took the first." If she had waited fifteen minutes, her life would likely have been cut short by a catastrophic accident. If she had waited half an hour, she would have watched the first train derail before she met a similar fate. As it was, she met your father with a corn cob pipe and a faded brown jacket and they lived happily ever after. The end.
That would be a legend. I would rather tell you a story my mother told me, but I am not quite sure that it came from my family. I can’t find it on the internet, though, so it must be true! Just kidding. It also may be rather terrible, but I remember it pretty well.
Before the days when chewin tobacca was bought an sold in a homeostatic environment, they used ta keep it down under the cool sawdust roofs in a little red barn out back the store. They also had cats, sos to keep them mice out at night and such. They made a little cat door in the chewin tobacca barn so the cats could come and go as they liked. Now Tom Tompkins was a little wee boy, just bout your age, and he fancied fetching hisself some chewin tobacca. He aksed his papa if he could have him some chewin tobacca but his papa said nosiree, you need more years on your shoulders before you can have none of that. Now Tom Tompkins was not about to forget it so easy, and he looked hard at that cat door, and he thought. And lo an behold, that very night, he was a coming back with his soft shoes on. The floor and the garden he makes were silent and he skittered away like a mariner backed with a fine old wind from out The Gulf. The moon makes at his shadow long and tall, like he were grown. He whistles a bit when he’s crossing the old footbridge, an then he stops at this sound. Its them big bullfrogs, and sounds like they’re talking to him! They say [must use vocal sound effects for the frogs that I cannot describe without demonstration] “Taaam Tamkyns. Taaam Tamkyns.” He gets gooseflesh an keeps his feet north. Pretty soon the bridge is over, but he don’t feel dandy no more. He gets a shiver when he gets to the store, goes out back and sticks his hand on in that cat door and GRABS [grab your daughter or son’s arm here, but not too violently or you may experience adverse affects of their displeasure] him some chewin tobacca. Then he makes home all a hurry. But look an listen, when he gets to that there footbridge [point emphatically here and start whispering] he gets all silent. But still he hears them big bullfrogs again. They say “Taaam Tampkins. Taaam Tampkins.” And as hes listenin harder he hears them medium lady frogs sayin “Stole. Stole.” An as hes listenin harder yet he hears them little baby croakers sayin “Tobaccatobaccatobaccatobaccatobaccatobaccatobacca!” An then them big frogs say “Pull im in. Pull im in.” An the little baby frogs scream “kneedeepandeeper!kneedeepandeeper!kneedeepandeeper!” Well, let me tell you [insert names of your children here], Tom Tompkins ran right on back to that store, he put back that chewin tobacca, and he never did steal again. And that’s my story.
This is me, in a way
I had a camel once. It spit on me, so I woke up and remembered I hadn’t washed my face. I also drank some milk. Then I had to brush my teeth, and I went outside to do it, and got lost. A mosquito the size of my thumb then went for my posterior (couldn’t sit for days) and, in my surprise at how fast the situation was becoming unbearable, I tried to throw a fit, tripped, and fell into the swamp. My sleep-retarded state of being hampered my judgment, so I figured I had floated a good distance from Dina’s house, and screamed as loud as I could for someone to come find me, so my mama came outside and smacked me with a broom for being so loud in the middle of the night. I suppose, thinking back, that was the most calamitous night of my life, but every day or so for the past year has been my worst day. Isn’t that peculiar?
---
["i can't find a heart in me
"i must need a lobotomy"]
Maybe I shouldn't
write my ideas down.
My finalized writing
is not what I see in books.
More I see my scratches
and notes,
my whims.
whatsits.
Here to: A movie
picture versus a work of
literature.
about me???? im uh tall and sortof friendly and artistic. i want to grow up and live in arizona and sell lentil soup and be an abstract artist. until then she lives in a box of strange dreams and changing tenses.
calculus is hard, but music is easy. is that being incongruous? i am probably a banshee then. something tells me that someday the internet will crash completely and there will be no more of it. i don't think i will be sad. it's a misconception that we really need it that bad... but i'm compelled to add 'probably' again. too much speculation for facts. like the misconception that those horrific little bugs running around my house were millipedes when they are, in fact, centipedes, undoubtedly worse in every way. they could die and i wouldn't care. give me spiders
the best way to home-dry a rose is to take it out of water.
i am usually wrong about everything ^
the innate ability of adolescents to reject compliments
and find inspiration in a trash can
or rather, is it a sign of adulthood when
we give up our humility?
it is not humility that brings us up as the “problem age”
it IS the trash can.
the people lived in separate drawers
arranged in their wooden unity
unloved by the other dressers
sick to their stomachs
How can I write with so many
distractions
For fear of plagiarizing the ideas
of the various sounds that
surround me
how to retain identity
when the magnetic ones prevail
when mine is odd and rejected by many
how can I speak when my mouth is a cave
as if wishing for echoes
as if trying to deny support of myself
thoughts.
chocolate sand
i live in a voice-activated space shuttle
ignore the lip that mocks the eye
they aren't at all arrogant about their ability to alliterate
placid is the adjective i would like to be
you bring me more joy than words can deploy
you're a garden-variety asshole
once you've had your laughs, just head on home
oh bloody sunshine?
their tears are ours alone. this complicated life
peace love and hair grease
nontoxic breed
[write at the top of a blank sheet of paper] i waste a lot of paper.
maybe people would understand you better if you wore a sign that said "roughly 14% hick"the only reason not to believe in anything is if you don't exist
i dream in space cadet
roulette wings
explode out of your bad habits
ob! obobob!
dog-o-matic machine
you wake from visions of war with a metal plate in your head
it's so plainly confusing
ocelot!
eat your liver sprouts and the barnacles in your intestines
or you could just go blow yourself away
a lot of people find their inevitable finish unacceptable
everything's left but i don't know what's right
essays about my fingernails
downtrodder hip hop
music so powerful that it haunts me to this day
who would know of his genius when he refuses to speak
the cold air stalls rusty fingernail drainage
deep sea squabbles
if you would kindly not poison my dog...I can say exactly what i mean i just pad it with a bunch of unnecessary vocabulary
and i shout: stop shouting so loud*!
*poor, poor grammar. povertous!
why would you rockabye your stupid baby on a treetop?
that was not a rhetorical question. it seems like a pretty dumbass thing to do.
i am not a sperm whale
the ditch of death
stew thoughts
please braid your hairy teeth
eat away the disease!
DEFINE ASYLUM
love hermit... worn shoe-light
remember me. but don't you dare let memories keep you from doing things exactly as they don't come flying into space at your own speed. godspeed... comrade?
my whistles are like songbirds getting strangled
retarded way to say 'high 5': spank up the yes yes
the feeling of relief is spilling over me like someone just cracked an egg on my head.
foot prison
pot-of-gold leprechaun named stripey
<3. do it for the kids.
it was so soft i almost mistook it for a lie
he looks into the mirror to see his son of very few words but many memories wasting away in a place where nothing really exists
they give off a strange halfway-out aura of elasticity
you forgot what you didn't know
we sit in this overcrowded place of hidden potential
the ancient dead language of our ancestors who spilled each others' blood on the mountain where a single solemn tree lost in autumn never grows and never dies.
HOW hao? heo? hau? Promise yourself I come in peace and injury! like the cannibalistic bulimic chicken that spat out an egg in the instant it was created so NEITHER came first oho!
i love you more than a spider loves silk more than a river loves rain more than i ever expect to love anyone else and if that doesn't scare you, watch me be powerful and walk anyway oho! and p.s. there is this huge world of difference between you and everyone else... i hope i learn to do that someday
paper birds and a train powered by their singing
the human race has overstayed its welcome
we're short on (what? please? fate?)
the bridge of sighs
ze prim pirate!
In the course of an average day, do you take time out to wash behind your ears?
beautiful atrocity nincompoop
i don't know why you like me but i'm glad you do
i am a sunflower.
breakfast heat on flying cubicles
torn face malted office-ridiculous
dye my story. cry me a storya future in the past
human -- wonderful, in a sick, puny way
antique cafe cigarette
simply wandered away from presentimental deprivation
crime on words
more beautiful because we're doomed
Listerine pie
the um bug. cretin
life in the treble clef
inspiration can be found almost anywhere. it's not where you look, but how
peppered snoflake
curtain liver poppy pie up down side by side
the sillier i am, the sadder i am. i use jokes to cover my aches. they are band-aids
she's really nice. i mean she burps a lot, but i really like her
as our bellies turn to salt
i'm waiting for the phone to ring to disturb my silence, which i am starting to think of as a settling, a permanent development in my soul.
the winged eyeball cluster
THIS FICTION HAS MORE SOLID ENDINGS
where we raise more than enough in America but cannot understand when we supply other countries... people arguing to 'feed our own only!'
polytheistic lacerations and no regrets
i want people to reach my... level of consciousness? mrog. self-conscious.
no things. still, it's something
by... not me
On the Strangled Cat Shower: OUR SHOWER SOUNDS LIKE A CAT MEETING DEATH BY STRANGLING [OR BY SHAFER]
MORE PEOPLE SHOULD CONSIDER THE QUALITY OF THEIR SHOWERS. ALSO, I THINK I AM ATTRACTED TO CHEESE.
IT IS ACTUALLY NOT OKAY TO HAVE TWO FIRE DRILLS BETWEEN ONE AND FIVE IN THE FREAKING A.M. BELIEVE IT OR NOT
I HATE STANDING IN WATER UP TO MY ANKLES JUST FOR TURNING ON THE SHOWER.
WHY ARE ALL OF MY NEWS-FLASHES ABOUT SHOWERS?
PEOPLE HAVING HOT FLASHES SHOULD TRY COLD SHOWERS.
FLASHING LIGHTS MAKE ME DIZZY. STROBE SCHMOBE CRAP. WHO CAME UP WITH THEM? DO THEY HAVE ANY USE ASIDE FROM BOTHERING PEOPLE?
MY TELEPATHIC LITTLE ZEBRA
my website is all crazy and colorful. i work on it when i am feeling particularly a.d.d., and it definately shows.
WHY WASN'T THAT CAPITALIZED? I AM SHOUTING HERE! except not really.
IF I PRETEND THAT I'M CRAZY, I CAN BETTER COPE WITH THE CURVEBALLS LIFE OFTEN THROWS.
TINY TOYS WITH THEIR EYES ALL AGLOW WILL MAKE IT HARD TO SLEEP TONIGHT.
JALESSA TOOK AWAY ALL MY FUN WHEN SHE LINT-ROLLED MY PANTS. I FELT SO VIOLATED TOO. EXCEPT NOT. BUT REALLY, NOW I HAVE NOTHING TO PICK AT.
I AM AN INVASIVE SPECIES.
I HAVE AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF DAILY HUMEROUS MONKEY HUMUS FOR YOUR FEEDING PLEASURE.
MAKE THE PRINCESS MAD.
JERK! YOU JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT THE ECONOMY ANYMORE, DO YOU?
YAH. I ONLY HANG OUT WITH CASTRATED FOLKS.
I'M GOING TO NEED YOUR SPEED-O RESUME
THIS IS A TRICK THAT I LEARNED FROM MY GOOD FRIEND... AZLETORF GREENBOTTOM.
AM E G7 C
end same w/o C then F C
hush little baby don't say a word
mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird
if that mocking bird won't sing
mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring
if that diamond ring turns to brass
mama's gonna buy you a looking glass
if that looking glass gets broke
mama's gonna buy you an artichoke
if that artichoke starts to rot
mama's gonna buy you an iron pot
if that iron pot gets a stain
mama's gonna buy you some purple rain
if that purple rain catches fire
mama's gonna buy you a big quagmire
if that big quagmire gets sunk
mama's gonna buy you a chipmunk
if that chipmunk gets squashed
mama's gonna buy you some butter squash
if that butter squash gets ate
mama's gonna buy you the whole darn state
if the whole darn state gets full
mama's gonna buy you a bolt of wool
if that bolt of wool gets torn
mama's gonna buy you some kettlecorn
if that kettlecorn turns to coal
mama's gonna buy you a pretty bowl
if that pretty bowl getts a crack
mama's gonna buy you an orange kayak
if that orange kayak starts to err
you'll still be the prettiest baby anywhere
if your copious amounts of stuff catch fire
mama's gonna buy you an army tire
if you don't like tires, guess what?
mama's gonna give you a kick in the butt
August 3rd, 2007
I like the moon. My mom tells me that my father had a habit of calling the moon "captain," though I can't imagine why. Still, sometimes, when no one is looking, I salute the moon. I don't think that I would ever salute a person that way. No person is better than another, and I think that the only reason people have come to think of themselves as superior or inferior is because they were raised in such drastically different situations. Of course, having only had one childhood, I can only speculate. But anyway. I couldn't sleep at all last night, so early this morning I went for a walk down the biking path. I could see the moon even though it was clearly just daytime. I think part of being a captain is sometimes defying all those neat little patterns. That is the only kind of captain I would salute anyway. It’s a good thing I’m not in the army. I saw a turtle this morning, in the water under the bridge. After about ten minutes she even blew bubbles. She had a white lining in her mouth and she was a big old thing... probably as long as my arm and almost as wide again. She was the sort-of-color of a sting ray, but almost homogenous except for the little pointy linings of her shell. I really wanted to point her out to somebody, but the first two people who came along were talking loudly and panting. The third person was a lady so I thought she may appreciate it... I called to her and she said (without even looking at the turtle) "Aww How Cute". I am serious: this is exactly what she said. I couldn't help but think she was talking about me as much as a turtle... how cute that some idiot kid in pajamas found a little turtle and cared enough to stop. not that I think everyone needs to appreciate nature... but if you want to be inside a nice protective modern shell then you would probably be better off running on a treadmill. Am I being a hypocrite? Of course. As I said, though, it's not about appreciating nature as much as it is just appreciating something...
Right now i am thinking, sleep tight little roommate! May angels fly thee to thy rest...ful...ness...
Though i often feel like there must be wackier fish in the sea, you are sure the Charlie Browniest. That being said, a corpuscle of your essence might be used for one of those essential oils that come straight out of a fish when you gut them (i volunteered to be the one to do that procedure in my enviro lab, little to anyone's surprise) and sold for several times their worth to drive up the price of pine trees in Canada. That is how economics works... no more, no less. And while we are completely and irrevocably involved in our own erroneous evolution (read that sentence aloud, at a clip) we are slowly becoming pulverized by that great American strainer, wood of the Holly TrEE. Never fear, comrades! I MEAN CITIZENS...
BOLLYWOOD STILL EXISTS!
Yay we are moving to India. How is that going to work out? i heard that India was the most densely populated nation in the world, and the second most populated. What would the result of a flood of obese orthorexics cause? Oh and on that note, i find it interesting that i usually capitalize words that need it, even at the beginnings of sentences, but that "i" was stubbornly... nay, belligerently... not capitalized. This is a demonstration of the full force of my love for the lovechild of democracy. You know what i mean.
But soft! What polyp thru yonder duodenum breaks? It is the right, even though it is my left!
Anatomy got me directionally challenged. When people tell me to stick gummy worms up my right nostril i get confused. Then they have to point.
If you add a cup of bra straps to that you get a complex of google. Googolplex is the ultimate answer to the question of solitaire... is it, or isn't it, our native tongue?
Think about it.
OFFICER: Now Sarah, don’t get sarcastic. You know nobody likes you when you’re sarcastic.