Showing posts with label polarad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label polarad. Show all posts

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Broken Windows


I am appreciative that you have semi-nice teeth. They do not belong to me anymore, but that does not mean that I cannot marvel at them. While we're on the subject, I'm also very appreciative that you have semi-nice skin too.

I remember once someone said that you looked like a Russian doll made of porcelain; I agree, but I am not a fan of porcelain. It cracks far too easy and I couldn't imagine falling in love with a face that needed to be handled with such delicate care.


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I'm going to be taking a break for a little while to work on other projects. Thanks for reading.




Thursday, March 4, 2010

Be Good to Your Neighbor(s)


Keep in mind how beautiful it is outside. Although it may rain today (it might even snow in about a day or two) this is all temporary. Spring is coming sooner than you think and it'll be time to skate, date and procreate. There will be trips and bike rides, bars and swimming pools (maybe). There's so much to be psyched about, so much to be hopeful for. Enjoy the misery that is winter for now, because I assure you it all be over rather quickly and you'll soon long for the days when you wanted to stay in bed for fear that you may never dig your car out of the snow or cuddle just one hour longer. Au Revoir winter. Adios my friend.
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If you missed my appearance on Jon Dugan's The Big Surprise last week, here's the podcast.

Also be sure to listen to Mr. Dugan's show at 6pm on:


Thursday, February 18, 2010

Torvald's Younger Brother Steven


"Why are we smiling like this?"


"I don't know, why?"


"Because I could think of ten other things to do--don't touch me"


"I'm not, he told us to to pose this way."


"Well I didn't forget, so don't touch me."


"Forget what--Oh, that."


"Yeah"


"I'm sorry."


"Just smile."

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

It's In Fact Quite The Opposite


With air quotes raised high into the sky, he mentioned that he was known to be a bit of a partier.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Le Turd

Smile. You're a complete fraud and everyone knows it. I've heard you speaking Spanish to the busboys and the girls at the register--you don't fool me.

You're not toned enough, you're not poor enough. Give up the ghost.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Bear


It may be true that we share this life, but I never expected to share each other's nightmares too. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I'd pass my fears of failure to you while you were asleep. I wonder if it was the way we slept? Perhaps our brains were too close to one another, perhaps we were too involved with one another to realize that we were not entirely fit to be adults. We were playing house--acting as if we were fit to play the role of a grown-up; throwing keys, and spending money on things we couldn't afford.

There was some sort of fabric that kept us together, but I can't exactly call it love, maybe it's called dependency. It held long enough for us to realize that just because our bodies were designed for each other, perhaps our minds were not the ones fit for living this kind of life.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Be Still Cody

This is really a day's game. It's like growing a beard. You have to take it one day at a time, otherwise you'll start thinking too far ahead and planning your beard's future. After a few days of this kind of thinking, you'll end up cutting it off. Then you'll regret it everyday afterward.

Take it as it comes.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Laura Loves Rocky


The girl across from me is eating from a bag of sunflower seeds. The way she eats them creates this rhythm: the sound of her hand entering the plastic bag; then the sound her lips make as she separates the shell from the nut. There's also the occasional crack from when her teeth break apart the shell, and of course, the sound her larynx makes as she swallows it.

It all sounds long and laborious, but it happens very quick and very succinctly, as if she were a symphony.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

16/2


When we went to the zoo I didn't expect him to try and kiss me. I certainly didn't expect him to take his dick out either. I asked him about his moustache in front of the sea lion tank. We talked a bit about experimental facial hair and how it looks good on boys, then he did it.
He asked me to show him what was beneath my Levi's. I did and as soon as I pulled it out, his tongue was in my mouth. I guess this was a first date.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Golden Slumbers


There is something lifeless about his eyes. I know they aren't open, but when they were they gave the impression that he was never actually present. How could he be? He just sits all day, in that same spot, watching the same television; wasting away. He does this everyday for hours on end.

I like to think that while he is physically wasting away in that leather coffin of his, he's really doing complicated mathematics, or mentally figuring out his taxes. I hope he's doing my taxes because I have no idea how to.


Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Baby Plates


Hello and welcome to Baby Plates. Please let me take your coat. My name is O'neil and I'll be taking care of you. Is this your first time here?
The tables at Baby Plates are designed to fit a moderately sized seven year old. The silverware is even smaller and so are the plates; they are about the size of a teacup saucer. Baby Plates cuts no corners. Everything that comes out of the kitchen doors is served in micro portions. The salmon dill in a cream sauce over a bed of arugula is no larger than a silver dollar, and the lamb shank risotto is to die for but it's the size of a snow pea.

The prices per plate averages about 325 U.S.D. Baby Plates takes all Major Credit Cards and is now taking reservations for December of 2011.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Fags

Instead of his phone number he wrote terrible things on bar napkins. He also drew terrible things on them as well.

One of them consisted of very few words, but did have rather on-point drawing of some young man in double breasted suit giving himself a good once over. It read, "Sorry if this gets anywhere near your meal."

Another one used only words and was addressed to an attractive woman with dimples. It read:
"Your boyfriend is a homo."

Oddly, when he handed it over she was very interested in both him and his note. This of course was before she read it.

He still writes these notes. They are a bit more toned down nowadays. For example he wrote one to his co-worker just the other night:
"I want your sex"

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Lemmings

A Sandwich

-Two slices of rye
-Three slices of Cajun turkey

-Two slices of Finlandia Swiss ( thin)
-A few slices of cucumbers
-Sliced tomatoes
-Veggie humus spread ( homemade)
-Tablespoon of mustard


Spread hummus on toasted rye. Then layer the cucumbers, turkey, tomatoes, and swiss. Smear the mustard on top slice of bread and press on a panini.

Enjoy!

Monday, January 18, 2010

Short Story Sessions



It would have been okay if we had just finished that bottle of wine and said goodbye, but I insisted we dance to the Clash. I wanted it to look like that scene where Mark Ruffalo and Kirsten Dunst dance in their underwear, but I barely made it past her bedroom.


Thursday, January 14, 2010

Jicama


I keep telling my mother that it's only temporary. It's inexpensive and quaint. She insists that it'll start that way, then I'll get a temporary job, and pick up an inexpensive habit. Soon I'll find a girl that's quaint and then I'll be there forever.

My mother is probably right. My roommate is recovering from fifteen years of something; I've seen two drug deals go down here: minor transactions (by bicycle of course). There was also a fight. I caught the whole thing while en route to make a fool of myself with an ex-girlfriend. With every punch the white man took the face, he lost an article of clothing. It were as if the other guy were swinging and swatting. Perhaps it was the friction caused by his punches that were enough to unbuckle the man's belt, untie his laces, and pull off his knickers. By the third punch, that poor sap's prick was out and against the pavement.

The children and dogs here are almost one in the same; unattended and unclothed. They do not fear broken glass, garbage or the cold. They are unlike anything I have ever witnessed. They are almost as brave as the addicts and street sweepers.

I don't think my mother knows about any of this. If she did, I'd have four boxes of groceries delivered to my house almost instantaneously. That's how she copes with me living in a seedy neighborhood, she buys me groceries and not necessarily the healthy ones either. It's like I turned six when I moved out. She's keeping me mum with Hawaiian Punches and Cheetos. I'm serious about this.

But if I told her that I thought these groceries were meant for a kindergartner she'd cry. I hate to see her cry over Cheetos. Plus I really do like Cheetos, it's just I'd rather have some avocado first.

Come to think of it, if I told her about my job(s) and love life, she'd really cry. Instead of groceries I'd have shit ton of homemade meals delivered to my door. My landlord would think I was on some kind of Jenny Craig deal. After he'd finish picking out which of the meals he'd like, he'd come upstairs, walk-in on me and my roommate fucking and ask for the rent.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Thank You, Jackie Du



Its my birthday
Should I smile?




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Be a friend and visit her blog.
http://www.jackiedu.blogspot.com/

Friday, January 8, 2010

Round Eyes

There is something wrong with the way Timmy folds pizza boxes at work. For some reason every box that he folds falls apart. Also when he puts wax paper in, it's always on the wrong side, which makes it a bit more cumbersome when dealing with customers. I don't mind all that much because I know Timmy has some problems . I don't know the prognosis, I'm not a doctor. I don't know anything about how the mind works or how many bones there are in an ear, but I'm pretty certain there's something wrong with Timmy. In an eight-hour day, he says almost nothing. You could say hello to him--Hello Timmy--and he almost always disregards it. In fact he's so good at not responding it's like you're not even there. You don't even exist to Timmy. And when he incorrectly folds those boxes it's as if he's not even there.

I wish I had a iota of Timmy's social grace: not having to answer questions and spending my day staring listlessly at nothing. I wonder what he thinks about. Maybe he thinks that those boxes are perfect. That everything around him doesn't really exist and that common conversation is meaningless. Words like hello and goodbye never enter his thoughts or perhaps he's just confused. I would at some point like for him to explain this all for me, but I know that he won't. I've tried.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Splitting Seeds


I say this with the upmost certainty: I broke up the happy marriage of a lesbian couple. I know this because she keeps looking at me behind the counter of the deli. It's as if she goes out of her way to make it known that she's looking at me. For example, when she slices the boiled ham, she doesn't even look at the slicer, instead she makes sure that I'm staring at her, and I am.

Now about the part with her being married, well someone told me she was and the rings on her ring finger are evidence enough. I passed math and I can put two and two together; she's married.

In fact I think I saw her partner just yesterday. They were taking break together and I happened to walk by them and she rolled her eyes. I think she was nervous that I'd blow her cover. I didn't.

And as for their break-up, well immediately after seeing them both, her partner abruptly left and walked out. We then resumed our aggressive staring bout.