Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

just when you thought it was safe to go outside

the first round winners are: 2, 3, 6, 7, 10, 12, 13, 16. that means that (in no corresponding order) Jared Campbell, Amalia Child, Dean Levin, Jack Greer, Max Palmer, Jake Fournier, Helen Manning, and Pete Cavanaugh will be competing in round 2.

next round starts monday!

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Monday, April 14, 2008

a crack up at the race riots

letterman thinks you need 200 mill to make a movie. korine gives you a novel in a word.

Friday, April 11, 2008

do you believe in mgm endings?

clay ripping!




king of the world as far as i know

nothing matters when we're dancing
what up babe







armageddon has been in effect, grab a late pass

15) I thrust my shining sword into his loin,
This man crumpled, stepping over him
I see a girl, she levitates my groin.
The chaos she was causing made me grim.
With duels and death surrounding us we fought
With icy grip she grasped my throbbing heart.
My heart in hand it was what she had sought
after. She killed her suitors as an art.
And yet I will not let that be my fate.
I see us kissing under the oak tree
With leaves a swirl, this is the perfect date.
She finds herself to be in love with me.
At last I place her gently on my bed,
And as I bend to kiss—“off with his head!”

16)
So me and Ginger roll up to the back of Danger Zone
and park next to Perry’s truck. Him and Gary are in
the front seat with poodletits, just fuckin yelling.
We show up to the truck and poddletits leaves the
truck immediately. Perry is yelling “I had the girl,
in the truck, with the reggae, it was perfect”, and
apperntly gary had shown up then us and we fuckin
ruined it. Gary is chugging a half empty bag of wine
that he stole from the lame fratboy neighbors. Then
we were all in the back of the truck and Perry was
really pissed about us ruining his chance with
poodletits, and he blamed all of us but mostly me and
ginger even though we barley had anything to do with
it. First he tries to rough us up, but then him and
Gary resort to pissing off the side of the truck, so
Perry then tries to put his dick on me to get revenge
and I am forced to jump ship. I don’t if this was the
same night, it could have been the other night that
Larry the snitch showed up with a stolen bag of wine;
anyways then we started stacking shit on Gary when he
passed out, and he woke up cuddling a piece of wood,
and spilled a full beer that he had been balancing all
night. We convinced that he wanted to cuddle the
piece of wood. Then I walked outside and my car was
gone. Fuck.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

send us your coordinates i'll send a saint bernard

13) You see these mountains. Green and green and green into the sky. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? That’s why I love driving Route 6. You see everything ripple with the wind, like an ocean of swaying fingers—sometimes, I want to drift away on it until I’m soaked through with the yellow and green of the leaves.

You know. But I’m rambling again.

I remember when I was a younger girl growing up in Warren. I knew two things: the mountains and the refinery. My father was an oilman, you see. Well, almost. He worked on the machinery. At night he’d come home covered in the grime of the day—oil splotches like treetops against his face in all different shades of black and gray. He looked like a mountain face in winter. Anyway, he’s the one who taught me how to drive a stick, and that’s why I keep this blue pick-up. When I was small, he’d sit me right between his legs and rest his chin gently on the top of my head. Feel his stubble? Feel his chin? And he’d put my hands on the wheel under his, and, as I took control, he let them hover so that he could give me over to the road.

God, I miss him. Clear days like these, these are the days he’d take me out and show me the country. Clear days like these—God, if only I could sit down between the legs of a split mountain: He’d put his hands over mine, and I’d drive the wind.

14) "The Milburnian"

This vessel sails to far off lands,
A breathing machine crossing sea and sands.
A thousand blinking eyes, glistening teeth
Create an air of unyielding command.

Emerging, in birth, from the deep,
A crude apparatus of misbelief;
Though it cruises intimidatingly
On living flesh it opts not to reap.

I decided, out of curiosity,
To board the beast on open sea.
Between fin and flag I stood starboard,
Knowledge of its function I aimed to achieve.

The Milburnian moved on its own accord;
No fault was found in its nautical course.
T'was long ago fashioned as mode of transport
And, used as such, was wonderfully adored.

Friday, April 4, 2008

so many, i had not thought death had undone so many

11) Working to deaden the spirit of the fire’s wild arms
we shine flashlights directly at it
so it produces only heat
but we’re already hot
so we move back and let it do nothing for us.

12) I have a crush on a girl in my class. She's from brooklyn and looks like it too, with a little bit of pearl jam and nirvana. She has two braids that go from her head to her waist and I've only seen her wear one pair of jeans cuffed at the bottom with a pair of converse type shoes that appear to be an ambiguous company. She paints feet and I know she has a wedge toe pinky because I saw the painting of it. It's like a pyramid and it scoops itself under the second toe. The first time I spoke to her I told her that she had a wedge toe because I didn't know what else to attempt to bring up. It made her blush. Since then, our conversations have ranged from k9 tooth infections to why everyone else in the world sucks. She hasn't blushed again though. Last night, a group of us went to her apartment for a party that she and her two roomates were throwing. It was 90s themed as though that was an excuse to play the music they definitely listen to on a daily basis. Her roomates are concerned about things being broken, stolen, or haphazardly dealt with to an extent that it ruins the image they're going for. I always end up falling for girls with cats. Must be some insecurity complex on their part. I've been smoking a lot of weed recently. She smokes weed and drinks balantine beer. I've consciously bought balantine beer when there's a chance for a potential run-in. This is stupid.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

there's a lot to be done while your head is still young

9) Joey came sprinting around third faster than he thought his little legs could ever move and slid in to home just as the ball got there. He knew he’d beat it. “Yerrrr out!” “Motherfucker!” yelled Joey. He meant to say it under his breath, but it came out louder and he didn’t give a shit anyways he said to himself. The ump grabbed his arm and escorted him over to his team’s dugout to inform his coach he would be thrown out if the kid said anything like that again. Joey’s fury of being called out still lingered, but he was already thinking about how he was going to get it from his dad now, who he knew was watching him like an eagle right then and heard everything.

The ride home was bad. Joey’s dad lectured him with anger in his voice the whole way. Kept saying things along the lines of keeping his temper under control and channeling it into baseball itself. Then going on to repeat as he had so many times before, that he had what it took and could make it into college or the big leagues if he worked hard. Joey’s twelve year old mind wasn’t experienced enough to challenge this statement with questions like, “what if I don’t want to work that hard at it?” Baseball was all Joey had played; all he knew.

When they got home Joey heard his dad telling his mom what had happened. He knew she’d be bummed, but not mad, like his dad. Joey heard his dad’s footsteps coming up the stairs later that night. He came into his room without knocking and informed Joey that he wasn’t allowed to play video games. “Who gives a shit?” Joey thought, since he really didn’t care about his Playstation he’d gotten two years ago. Then he told Joey he couldn’t go outside unless it was to swing the bat, throw the ball around with his dad, or go to practice. That one fucking blew.

Two days later, Joey was sitting inside after getting home from school. Looking out his opened window, he saw his neighbor riding a skateboard in his driveway, and even though he looked awkward as hell, it intrigued him. “Fuck it,” he said as he put on his shoes and went outside to ask his neighbor if he could try. His neighbor had just gotten the board that day, and said it was really neat, letting Joey have a try. Whoooshh! Joey ate shit, and scraped his elbow and landed on his hip. Later on in life, he would learn these sorts of things are called hippers and swellbows. They both picked up riding it sort of quickly, or at least they thought, since they had no comparison. In just a half hour, they were both riding down his neighbors slanted driveway, not going that fast, but feeling like they were sticking their heads out their parents car while driving. Riding it gave them the giggles, made them smile harder than ever, and Joey realized it shortened his breath, but not due to exercise. It was a excitement. It was freedom. He had no idea how strong that feeling would evolve into, but he couldn’t get enough. He knew his dad would be home soon, so after saying “one more,” about ten times, he reluctantly ran back inside his house. The next day at school, his excitement never ceased, continuing to run through his veins, as he daydreamed about riding the skateboard down the driveway when he got home. The rest of Joey’s life began then.

10) War of Follies

He trimmed a layer of stubble over his dark, angular jaw to look like a 5 o’clock shadow all the time. He kissed gently, so the sharp ends of the hair didn’t rub at my lips, but if we were at it for too long, I emerged with a pink tinge around my mouth like a wino slut. Still, I knew what I was getting into on that front. When he kissed elsewhere, the stubble had a more hostile impact. I had a different angular patch of hair to discipline, a camp of follicular soldiers in basic training. I usually waxed, but now…the danger of chafing was too vast.

His troops moved south in the open air. Mine were entrenched but vulnerable, quivering in the dark, awaiting the enemy’s nightly advances.

He fought orally, expertly.

He penetrated early and without faltering, deploying both the customary weapons and rhetorical strategy.

What, ho! I thought he came from the country of non-violent resistance! But indeed, this battle zone was only erogenous; the pain was hard to distinguish from the pleasure. My troops blushed at defeat and it took days to recover. I dealt one defensive blow, near the end, when I let the hair grow out overnight.

“What, are you fighting back now?” he whispered with a sarcastic growl, the sneering victor’s privilege.

“I couldn’t help it,” he wrote one night in December. It was the first of many times I heard him repeat the phrase.

“I couldn’t help it. It called my name with a sweet voice comparable to that of the sirens.” he continued, “Once it lured me into its lair, it paralyzed me with its beauty and when my defenses were down, it struck me with the fury of a thousand men. I should have known that I too would feel the sting of the thorns if I ventured to feel the soft touch of the rose….”

He was a compulsive cheater who recycled his favorite lines on his favorite girls. It should have been a preemptive warning to me when the most original speech he ever delivered was inspired by a thunderous queef, the vaginal battle cry of a siren scorned.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

let's turn our backs on all the movie stars

7) im free just got out of the pen, it was too sick, niggas snuck drugs into jail and then there was a sick like weird party going on in our pen, fools were smoking mad blunts. hits of dope people were in there telling the sickest like stories from being caught up in the island for 27 years and drug dealers who got caught up with just so many drugs on em from crack to herion and i almost baught a thizz from this sick latino kings fool. it was too dirty and soo hot i had to sleep on the floor but i tried to stay up the whole time. all we could eat was Cheese and bread sometimes you would get a mustard packet but i never got any mustard. 48 hours in that place bums were in there like sleeping next to ucien and were barking at him. i smell soo bad ima take a shower just got released i have community service and an osd for 6 months. only drink is milk fools were taking shits where you could see them and there dick and it would smell so bad there is a lot moresick stories but the most touching one was the fool who was in the island for 27 years was talking to me for like 2 hours and he said "ima miss you when you get out" and i said it back ima miss you to man. he was the homie always trying to pass the blunt to me first.
i appreciate life so much more

8) LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

petits pois

adam michel is replacing ted barrow in the contest. sorry ted fans. adam is from kentucky

if you ain't smokey it ain't yo muthafuckin message

5) Squirrel Lady

Some days I wanna be that squirrel lady. Don't you ever want to be that squirrel lady? The one in the park who brings the squirrels food every day and talks and clicks at them while they eat it. The one who stays until all the food she got is gone and then goes home to bring back more. That lady.

Sure, she looks a little weird. A little frazzled. She's the squirrel lady, for god's sake, and who knows what happened to make this the organizing principle of her life. But she loves it. Can't you tell? She loves to have a function, a purpose, a name--Squirrel Lady. How many of us have such a unique label?

And why shouldn't she love it? She's worn-looking, frazzled like I said, unraveling a little at the edges; but she has someplace to go every day, a structure, a purpose. She has a connection with living beings--knows which squirrels are male, female, old, young, pregnant, which ones like nuts and which like grapes. How one squirrel peels the grapes before she eats them, like I used to do when I was a kid. Don't we all want to believe we understand nature, we commune with nature, we speak to nature and nature speaks to us like no one else? And she has creatures that see her walking up and are so excited they come running. Granted it's because she has something tangible to offer, but how many people come running at you every day just because you have something tangible to offer? Let alone if you have something intangible; forget about it. Maybe Squirrel Lady understands something we don't.

Some days I really want to be Squirrel Lady. Mostly those days when I'm sure everyone understands something I don't.

6) Remember, you were stranded on that tiny island. All around you was the vast ocean and you couldn’t for the life of you recall how you got there. No, you didn’t have anything to eat. Nothing in your pockets, No crates of fruit washed ashore, and no wild beasts to hunt down. Not even a coconut. But all that didn’t matter, because (you remember now?) you didn’t have any fresh water. So you dug a hole and pissed in it and covered it with your Perry Ellis jacket. You sat under the partial shade of the island’s three palm trees while your piss condensed into water.

You started to think about the time when you watched all the ants going in and out of the cracks on the sidewalk. You sucked on a butterscotch candy for a minute and then sat it on the ground. You went inside to watch TV and then came back out to find the candy swarming with ants. You thought what if I was an ant, and then you spit on them. You kicked the candy away. Then you wondered if any of the ants got on your shoe, so you looked. There was one ant crawling on it, so you took your shoe off. You walked away barefoot thinking about how bad it must suck to be taken away from all your family and friends and candy syrup.

A few hours later you took another piss in your hole. It stung your urethra. You had been sweating buckets under the sun. It was hot. Pretty soon you were lightheaded. Then you were delusional. You thought about the time when you were a kid jumping in the fountain in the park. When no one was looking you ducked your head under the water. A man came up suddenly and held you under even longer. You were really drowning when your Dad came up and leveled the man. As you came up gasping, you were dizzy and your head was pounding. It was hot and it was cold. You saw your assailant lying on his back. It was a white man in a black suit with gray hair. You saw blood pouring from his nose over his crusty lips. Then you puked.
Isn’t that how it happened? Don’t you remember? You can’t be sure anymore. Could be it happened like that. But now there’s the sun over your head and water all around you and none to drink. You wanted off the sandy patch of shit. You were about to die and you wanted off.

That’s when I came sailing by. Aboard the U.S.S. Commerce I came gloriously in my captain’s hat. Looking trim and refreshed, I offered you a smile and a wave. I seemed angelic cruising way up high above the waves.

But then I did what I had set out to do. I gave you the finger and a “die motherfucker” and I left you to your little piece of parched paradise.

I was sailing out of sight. In fact, I was long gone. And remember that one word you managed to utter.

You said: “Thanks.”