Saturday, July 30, 2005

Friday, July 29, 2005

Clown Conference

"Two cheers for the pendulum!" shouted the big clown with frivolous glee. All the fellow clowns joined in and they honked little clown horns, blew on clown whistles and rainbow clown trumpets and Yikeman the clown even juggled a bit while wildly shreiking in the silliest voice imaginable.
This clownish fete of grotesque energy and visceral power, all took place on a wintr'y January evening.
I will now tell what I can with poetic embellishments of my own creation when neccessary:

"The 'Wannasee?' Conference"

The vacant brightness of day had sunk into a dark blue and night fell apon the clown shack once again. The air was crisp and vital and bit to the bone. As the 15 filed into the small room for the meeting, they stamped their iiregularly large shoes on the floormat beneath them and shook (with help of hand) some of the lingering melted snow out of the matted wigs. Calvin the clown took seven of his eleven pairs of polka-doted pants off. They had been soaked only minutes before, when in a moment of clowny inspiration, he had jumped off the top of the moving clowncar into a large snowbank on the side of the entrance road. This random act of clownness, of which at least 30 are required each day by Clown Law, solicited some silly cheers and flatulence sounds (and a couple blasts of the car horn) from his peers, but mostly left Calvin cold and wet. A deer who watched in the woods on the side of the front lawn ran off and his eyes glowed and darted back into the threads of branches and snow.
The shack was ancient and by all appearences, ancient. "Rustic"-A word used by many speakers of the English language, was often grabbed from the recesses of the mind to describe the structure. Dilapidated, yes, but both words mean nothing.

While the clowns never spoke to each other about what they were to discuss at this meeting, it was silently understood to be important. As always, we can only guess what ran through their heads during the conference. However, we do have a tape record.
The present author has not heard the tape record as it is currently being used as evidence in the ongoing trial. He has spoken with some of the clowns themselves, and some of the lawyers and members of the jury who have heard the tape and my story follows their testimony (private and public) closely. In order to give you the best idea on how to read the following paragraphs I must give you, the valued and curious reader, some quick ground rules:

1. All of this actually happened and is as I have said, based on testimony.
2. The poetic and artful nature of the piece is solely the work of the author
3. Clowns frighten many. If you are frightened by them,
A) Stop reading.
B) Continue reading, but CAUTIOUSLY.
C) Tell yourself that clowns are just as afraid of you are as you are of them. As, after all,
1) You ride in such big cars.
2) You cheer and laugh when they do something that causes them pain such as pants-dropping, or a unexpected Cocanut Cream Pie thrown at the face.
4. All of this is a lie and never happened.

I continue:

One clown smoked a fake cigar. He was fat, slow, and named Buttler. Buttler served the clowns, now seated around a maroon, worn-wood table. Each was given a bowl of Cherry taffy and a large mug of grape juice, which was squeezed that morning at dawn by a blind gypsy woman who sang a Slovenian folk tune, as ancient as the air that was recycling and blowing her filthy brown hair:
nikar ne trošiti svoj nožnica...

She was now sleeping and having stupid dreams that were as dull as her blind imagination allowed her to have. She had no idea that those grapes were being enjoyed by the men who would make her laugh in a year and a day's time. She would laugh finally and meet a man who laughed also who would love her blind dirtiness and all at the carnival.

The clowns were quiet now. Before continuing they had a moment of silence for all the giraffes that had ever died.

You would think that such a meeting would be long and arduous. But we know that clowns are subtle creatures, and they live and communicate in a language of illusion and fleeting glimpses of reality. The meeting was over in 16 minutes.
They all spoke in disjointed and silly voices. Only one pie was thrown, and by Buttler the clown (who actually was a doctor before he entered into the Clownish Arts). It hit Highdick the clown square in the face and much to the solemn and more European clown's dismay at that (he already had crying make-up and a three day growth of facial hair painted on). He did not like Buttler's constant egging on about the disagreements he had about the plan.
But finally after a short deliberation it was decided. They called the plan the T-4 Laughination Protocol, or the "WannaSEE?".
The clowns would set up shop at a carnival and ask if the villagers to all come look. When they rounded up all of the men, women and children they would put on their show. Little audience participation occured, and the show would only involve the juggling, little bikes, prat falls and pies of typical clownfair fare.
The most important part of the performance (and the subject of the conference) was the end. The climactic buildup would be intense and men would fall to the floor shreiking in laughter and in pain at the amount of said laughing. But the time would come and the show would cuminate in this final and life-changing 15-clown shout to the audience:
The audience would shout back "YES!".
At this moment, the clowns would pull down their huge, colorfully variant pants and underpants and reveal their hilarious secret-they had no male or female genitalia. On the peachy skin of the men there would be no pubic hair or any sort of protrubtion. The only thing that was there would be a painted single heart in between a silvery pendulum.
The audience would smile and love it and the clown's show would be complete.

The idea for the pendulum was the most brilliant of all. Yikeman thought of it after having a dream of being hanged after the Hebrew name for the number three was yelled.
As the meeting ended, Buttler shouted "Two cheers for the Pendulum". This was the beginning of happiness and the understanding that it is not "Why?", but rather it just "Is." And that to be AND not to be, was in fact the answer.
They took turns cutting themselves in their private areas and the blood flowed and squirted into a bucket that later that night was thrown in the woods.

The deer found it and drank it's contents and exploded into a star in another galaxy which we have not thought of a name for. It burns and flames and lights and spins and explodes. If you go outside you can see it but only if you look carefully above Phil's house.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005


75 million years ago, Xenu the ancient space alien dictator, froze billons of humans and placed their bodies around the volcanoes of the Earth. Pleased with this brutal display of power, he then blew up the iceblocked-peoples with H-bombs. He then brainwashed them with a huge 3-D movie for three-score days.
The frightened beings gathered around the other humans and held on. They are still acting as parasites to us today, sucking us of our spirtual and life potential, hampering us from accomplishing our goals.

You have no idea how to strip them from you and you aren't even trying. You are pathetic, poor and ugly and you take pills to "help" with your "problems".
Tom Cruise does. He's a millionaire and is good looking and has magic balls. So fuck you assholes.

NOTE: This is NOT sarcastic. I am serious. He who has not seen the need for this powerful tool is USELESS.
Don't be angry

Hey guys. How are you? Yeah...I was just wondering..umm...why are you guys so angry? Why so much rage?
Am I talking to you? Yeah-everyone. All human beings. I think everybody needs to calm down.
You too Missy Elliott!

I don't's just really crazy. Let me give you an example from tonight.

I work at a library. I was at the desk and a man approached and asked what he had to do to get on the internet. I gave him the ol' 4-1-1 on our computer policy.
The policy is this:
You have to either have a library card or get a "guest pass" for those who don't want a card. You take your card or pass and type in the "barcode" and "PIN" number.
The policy is that.

After showing him what to type into the computer from his library card, he expressed some irritation with the process:
-"What is the point of all this?" He frowns.
-(Nervously) "Uh...h... that (chuckles nervously but good naturedly)'s for... you know, to monitor how long each person is on so everyone gets a turn in the library." I smile (nervously).
-(Shakes head) "Wow. That is silly. This is the way technology is going. You gotta type stuff in, they know who you are, what you buy and so forth. It's horrible."
-(Nervously). "...(chuckles nervously) Yeah.'s not TOO Orwellian yet.." (Good naturedly but nervously smiles).

The man has turned and begun approaching the computer terminals. He turns around and looks at me.
-"Yeah. But you guys are making it head that way." (Angry silence. Turns and continues on his way. He logs onto the computer by typing in a couple numbers, a pointless bureaucratic procedure created by me and my 40-70 year old kindly female coworkers to control him and the rest of the American public as part of the Public Library's ongoing plan to create the New World Order; A one world government that regulates all of the citizen's behavior and thoughts to mold them as servants to the all-powerful Illuminati. Who is this Illuminati? Yep, you guessed it: Me and some other part-time County workers who shelve books all day and then go home for a night of frozen food and A & E.)

I know some rules and laws are silly. But can we just calm down about and not pick on the little guy who has to enforce them because he was told to? I'm sorry you had to type in some numbers Mr. Milton Freidman. But is this really some sort of dark, fascistic regulation, or "just a little thing you have to do to get on the computer"? In fact, sir, If I may spare you the trouble of looking, we DO in fact have a copy of Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead"! Let me show you where it is! I'm a nice guy. I love you sir! Please just love me back and we will make such a perfect librarian-patron connection! Let's not get angry here. Let's let sleeping pooches be cute pooches that look so cute when they take a nappy-wappy.

This goes for all of you. I know "anger" and "irritation" are "human emotions" and are "natural", and I myself sometimes take feel them as well, just because something is "natural" and "human" by no means makes it right. It's natural to eat raw meat, fuck holes like crazy and kill. Let's rise above this pride in being "natural" and "human". There is nothing we have to be proud of. So let's just take it easy and enjoy our times here.

Monday, July 25, 2005


Today I coughed and I immediately realized that I hadn't coughed in a long time. I coughed and then thought-"My god. Coughing. I forgot all about that."

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Favorite Album Covers of All-Time Volume One:

Miles Davis-"Live Evil" (1970)

Beastie Boys-"Hello Nasty"

Keith Jarrett-"Arbour Zena"

Guided By Voices-"Mag Earwhig!"

Randy Newman-"Bad Love"

Joni Mitchell-"The Hissing of Summer Lawns"

Van Morrison-"Veedon Fleece"

XTC-"Apple Venus Volume One"

Blue Oyster Cult-"Agents of Fortune"

Kenny Loggins-"Return to Pooh Corner" (Yes.)

Parliament-"The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein"

Prince-"Lovesexy" (Yes.)

J.S. Bach-"Johannes Passion" (The English Baroque Soloists conducted by John Eliot Gardnier)

Insane Clown Possie-"The Great Milenko" (I like magicians and clowns.)

Some Japanese Guy-"White Christmas"(The look on his face just screams Yuletide joy doesn't it?)
And my all time favorite:

Eberhard Weber-"The Colours of Chloë"

Friday, July 22, 2005

Jesus Was a Capricorn

Jesus was a Capricorn
Seagoat who died on a cross
Drank, blew, and preached through his horn
Joey, Chandler, Rachel, Ross
Monica, Phoebe tended
The seven generations
Of whom I am descended

From Planck's Wall
Behind it
We call that


I think she did Ghostface. Anywho, I am currently working on a short story. I'll post it here when I'm done. It's taking quite a while to work out all the kinks and baileywickers. It's based on an historical event and involves circus performers, pendulums, rainbow trumpets and deformed genitalia. In other words: SILLY TOWN U.S.A.! AHHAHAHALOLOLOL!

Monday, July 18, 2005



Modest chair people painted grey
who don't want to be anything
but chairs for others to sit in.

Cloud people giving birth to themselves.

Navel-less non-people who'd like to improve
and slowly slowly as if blind
grope their way toward a real human navel.

Hole people who are the straight
gate to the most progressive hell.
Hole people making a comb
but little honey.

Long thin thread people
of white unwritten thread
rolled on a spool
convenient to carry in your pocket.

People who have a feeling
that the stones will soon be ripe.

People of the opinion
that it makes no sense
to grow in addition to their two front legs
two legs behind
that even a single leg would do
to jump into the bottomless pit.

Minute people who when put on the wall
promptly turn into circles
cry cuckoo cuckoo
and show the time.

People who turn into bright suns after their death.

People like a sea
throwing dice with bouquets of flowers.

People who are mild egg moons.

People who get into a train
as an Arabic 1
and get out
as a Roman I.

People say to themselves:
Reproducing produce
whether umbrellas or potemkin spears
in Greek or Hebrew villages
makes you mad.
Better to hedge cold frontiers.
Better not to leave the peridrome.
all your life.

People who sneeze pebbles.

Centaur people half man half car.

Chatterbox people chattering about boxes.

People who can't develop a taste
for the primeval
but rather wrangle in this world
and in their noseless faces
daily brush and paint and lacquer
three abundant heraldic
stylized moustaches
one above another.

destruction and billiard-breaks, are actions which are insured against
lightning and recognized as being a public utility. There is one known
fact: dadaists are only to be found these days in the French Academy. I
nevertheless consider myself very likeable.

-Tristan Tzara

Sunday, July 17, 2005

I've Gone Dolla Dolla Crazy!
I have just spent about 300$ in the last two days. Through E-bay,, CD stores and book stores, I have been participating with gusto in the ancient art of exchanging currency for goods and services. This ancient and sacred art of commerce started over 100,000 years ago through long-distance trade. Although now I may buy DVDs, CDs and books over the internet, it is still the Trading Tango For Two of the Days of Yore. Sure, they were mainly trading flint, obsidian and animal hides, but it's still the same. In fact, I still like to buy my flint and bronze from Phoenician seamen now and then. You can find anything on the internet!

So let's go over each purchase in small (though still somehow painstaking) detail:


E-Bay, and all internet stores are great because you never need to come into contact with any fellow human beings in the flesh. Human beings often wage war and treat one another poorly, and I generally keep my distance from them. By hiding behind a "screenname" (or in internet lingo: "sn", or "s" or " ") and communicating through e-mail, a healthy space is kept between both peoples participating in the trade.
In the last two days I have bid on and won these items:

-A signed picture of conductor and composer Pierre Boulez-possibly the most controversial figure on the post-war classical scene.

Another signed picture to add to my collection of composer autographs (Alban Berg)!
I am a pathetic nerd.
-A poster of the cover art for Steve Reich's first recordings of his "Sextet" and "Six Marimbas"
-A score of Boulez' "Le Marteau sans Maitre"
-A score of Berg's "Lyric Suite"


Cheapo's is a large CD and DVD store in the hipper-than-thou Mecca of the Twin Cites, Uptown. After entering the store you will see at least three people with Che Guevarra shirts and enough soul patches to form an actual beard. You will then precede to walk into the Jazz/Classical section where you yearn to be adopted by the gay-couple (men) that are looking at Lou Harrison albums, the only two people who you will ever connect with over music.

-"The Dead Texan"-The Dead Texan
Excellent ambient music from a member of Stars of the Lid. I never thought I'd get so into this type of music.
-A double cd of Mozart's "Haydn" Quartets played by the Julliard String Quartet. It was used, and it was Mozart which makes it by default, good.

Magers & Quinn

A great used bookstore in Uptown. I however, am always intrigued by the "Antique Book Library" hidden in the back and inhabited by a mysterious old woman. I have never seen anyone enter, and I am afraid that If I did I would be transported back to 1862 and have to live out my days hearing the librarian rant to me about her dead husband and son who left to join the "Yankees up north" while cleaning the cobwebs off everything.

-Jorge Luis Borges-"Selected Poems"

-Theodore and Denise Stravinsky: "Catherine and Igor Stravinsky: A Family Chronicle"
A nicely illustrated memoir by Stravinsky's oldest son and his wife about his complex father and his sickly and ever-suffering wife (and first cousin). Bought it more for the pictures.

-A bunch of guys-"Confronting Stravinsky"
Scholarly essays on Stravinsky. Good stuff.

-Bertrand Russell-"A History of Western Philsophy"
Over a thousand pages. Wish me luck.

Barnes and Noble

-Paul Johnson-"A History of Christianity"
Which of course I bought along with:

-Bertrand Russell-"Why I Am Not a Christian"

-Saint Thomas Aquinas-"Selected Writings"
If I read this and my head doesn't explode I will become a believer. (I am referring not to the content, but Aquinas' style which is considered incredibly difficult and hard to understand even for the most brilliant philosophers).

(As you can tell from the wonderful image I've found and copied here of the cover):
-Baruch Spinoza-"Ethics, Correspondence etc."
Why am I buying philosophy books? I really could care less.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Lake Alcyonian

The bricklayer's hands were blistered and blained and he could bear the pain no more.
He ejaculated:
"I, bricklayer for the kingdom, will find a Lake where I can submerge my bruised and battered hands and find comfort."

The sun was lowering but still oppressive to his brow, which sweated and sweated sweat to no coolingavail. It was time to leave.

The bricklayer stepped back from his work. In pain and thermogenic exhaustion he admired his wall. For he was building a brick wall in the middle of the king's hunting grounds. This brick wall was to be 142 feet wide and 133 feet tall. It's color: Brick. It's weight: Unknown. It's purpose: Force invaders to take the south entrance if they plan to attack so as not to disturb the animals.

I should tell you about the Bricklayer's clothes because when you use lots of description it makes the reader visualize the things that are described so that you can imagine in your head what is going on:

He wore pantaloons of the evergreenest green and a tunic of the bloodiest red. One time he delivered a baby of a peasant whore in the market square and used the tunic to cradle the baby. The blood of the childbirth could not be seperated from the red of the fabric: they were one in the same.

These were the clothes he wore.

After admiring his handy work, he set off to find a lake. His kingdom was not known for its lakes, but rather for its plentiful Capulin Cherry Trees which bore delicious cherries of the most menstrual blood-like color. One time a young virginal maiden waited for a suitor in one of the trees and she bled through her vestments and the blood of her blossiming feminitity could not be seperated from the red of the cherries: they were one in the same.

This is the kingdom where he lived.

It was now dark and he trudged through valley and forest, glen and glenda, hill and plain. The green of the grass was blacker in the lightless night and it gave off a sinister glow which the bricklayer noticed duly.
However: no lake.

His hands ached and ached and ached and the blisters were bloody and the skin was raw.
He stopped halfway down a sloping hill falling towards a forest. He had an idea.

"I should consult my map of the kingdom" he ejaculated.
Just then: a wolf howled: 'WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'. The bricklayer duly noticed this and it was as if the wolf was saying 'WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGREATIDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!'.

He pulled the map from his belt pouch which was the brown of sandy shit. He unfolded the map. This is what it looked like:

He followed it's curves and forking paths through the forest. The owls were out tonight I tell you brother and they hooted and hollered up a storm. One owl landed on the bricklayer's shoulder and the owl's head spinned 360 degrees several times. He knew what this meant: he was getting closer.

The night wore on and it was darker than Wesley Snipes' house at 4 in the morning. The bricklayer grew so tired that many times he found himself walking with his eyes closed, bumping into trees and falling into bramble patches. Weak and unable to go any farther, he decided to take a nap. He found a dead deer on the forest floor and slept on top of it.

While he slept the whore's child borne in the market square said his first word: "Farther".
The whore did not care for her child's poor pronunciation of "father" and smacked him with a bail of hay, rendering him unconscious.

Just then: a wolf we did that part already. Just then: the bricklayer awoke. He found himself still engulfed in green darkness and arose and awalked forward 275 paces into a slit of light. It was the edge of the forest.

As he aproached the light he felt a cool breeze calm his pained face. He was near water. Doves were flying everywhere. Doves as white as Bryant Gumble's house at 10 am.

A couple more steps...whoops! Mind the bear scat. Watch out for poison oak...and HE's DONEIT!

He had reached Lake Alcyonian. He sat on a rock and before nearing the lake shore, meditated on his journey and the sight that beheld him northly.
The sun rose over Lake Alcyonian, a giant lake that stretched out in all directions infinitely. The water was not water but breastmilk and it was full of white mice swimming wildly in all directions infinitely.

As he dipped his hands in the infinitely deep breastmilk lake he felt comfort and across the kingdom the bleeding maiden in the tree gave birth to a boy and a girl, twins.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Who is Regina Spektor?

Good question. Here is my answer: Regina Spektor is the girl you know who is really beautiful and cool and talented and smart, but will never be able to be close with because you aren't as beautiful, cool, talented or smart. Everyone loves her and you do too but she is only a reminder of how lame and dorky you are.
She looks like Fiona Apple. But not as skinny. And annoying.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005


Magic is everywhere. You just have to look.

Look around right now. Now look down. Made you look! There are robins in the trees that sing beautiful four note songs. CHIIP! CHIRP! CHTHTHTH! CHIRP! There are wolves and whales and cocanut trees that burst forth with cocanuts.

There is legalized gambling in South Dakota. Pull the lever and win big money! Lady luck sings a song too but I don't remember how it goes. The Black Hills are in South Dakota. Be very quiet! Indians are watching you.

There is the concept of infinity. Infinity is something goes on forever. You are not infinite and you will die.

After you die, nothing happens. Do you remember anything before you were born? No. That is what being is dead is like. Being unborn. Don't worry though. You don't know and don't feel and don't exist.

There is no such thing as heaven or hell. There is no God who cares about humans. We are simply evolved animals on a rock in the middle of an infinite space. When you die, the same thing that happens to dogs and fish happens. You decompose and dissapear and you are gone forever. Christianity is the most popular religion in the world. Judaism and Islam are also popular. They are misguided because there is no God in the sky who cares about us. There is probably no God in the sense of a creator. There is probably no such thing as God but you don't know. Christianity, Judaism and Islam were started by people who herded cattle in the desert. It's all mythology. Which is good-there is truth in myth. But it's all metaphoric.

There is a man named John Stamos who was on a show called "Full House".

There was a man named Napoleon who crowned himself emperor of France. After he died they put plaster over his face and made this mask:

Napoleon is dead and doesn't exist anymore.

There is a city called Istanbul in a country called Turkey. Names and words.

90 + 3 = 93.

If you look up and you are outside you will see the sky.

There is a male named Patrick and he is typing these words.

There are shapes. Squares and circles and triangles.

When you forget something you can't remember it.

I fan is blowing on my hair. Magic.

Jesus walked on water and he was magic. He had magic powers like David Copperfield. So did Buddha and Harry Houdini and David Blaine and Muhammed.
Of all those magicians David Blaine is the closest to the hip hop culture I think.

There was a man named Charlemagne.

Look up again. Made you look.

Magic is everywhere. You just have to look.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Sweetheart T. Cat

I've adopted an internet pet-her name is Sweetheart T. Cat. She doesn't seem to work. She's supposed to follow your cursor and you can "play" with her. I must have done something wrong-she's usually catatonic and still. Who knows. She's still adorable and I love her. I even chose her color-"Whore Lipstick".

By the way, the 'T' stands for "The".

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Degrassi Pictures

I was bored tonight looking at pictures on the "Degrassi" site. Yeah I know-"Does he EVER get a chance to relax and just hang around the house?"-I do SOMETIMES believe it or not.


A battle of (fuck)wits.

Here's a tough one: who's gayer here?

Her character may be a horrible bitch, but she is one of the most sexy female Peregrine Falcons I've ever seen.

Someone doesn't belong here. Can you guess who?

He may be cheating on Marco, but I wouldn't give up a chance to bed Chicago Bulls power forward Othella Harrington either.

A teenage fetus has apparently joined the cast.

Nice haircut, douchebag.

Gay = Conflicted.

Don't you nevah, evah, pull my levah-cuz I'll EXPLODE! And ma 9 is easy to load...

The BFA: The Black/Fat Alliance. ("booooooo"-I know. I'm an asshole).

You kind of know that one of Jimmy's chromosomes is a little off.

Same with this kid.

The guy on the left has no idea who she is, and the one on the right just got here from Puerto Rico.

If I didn't know these two from the show I would just guess that they were being taken into Juvenile for sniffing WD-40 under a bridge or something.

h... okay.

The face of a man who's pleased with his order of Arby's curlyfries.

Stay strong girls. Don't worry-you will grow into your beauty. Just keep telling yourself that.

I think my hatred of Kevin Smith grows by the second.

Pickest the flower with thine frail hands my blueveined child.

Emma got hot. I don't care what anyone says. (I'm talking about YOU Peter! LOL!)

i'm a weirdo.

Oh well! Keep dem episodes comin' you filthy canucks!