I once wrestled a giraffe to the ground with my bare hands.

Though it is well past time that I should be thinking much less typing or constructing sentences, my brain is awake.  One better, my brain is always awake, only this time that dusty dark hallway that has been closed for construction is now open.  At least that is what that posted sign has said for the last, goddamn, forever ago now.  UNDER CONSTRUCTION.  Signed by The Management.  Until today.  True, that's me in there shutting down hallways and reconstructing entire wings of my mind.  My subconscious does it without permit or permission.  Until today I have had no access to that hallway.  You know, the one listed as The-Complicated-And-Creative-Thought-Processes-That-You-Have-No-Business-Knowing-About?  That mile long title is now barely visible through the glossy black spray painted word "DANGEROUS".  Some of the newer folks might not have even known that this hallway existed.  I started asking around after finding too many leaks in the basement.  Didn't you assume that there was a place dedicated to this type of thing somewhere?  Those leaks never happened when the hallway was open, no need, plenty of places for the juices to go.  That was the only clue to my remembering this place.  A few years ago the leaks stopped but before that this place was completely submerged in fluids.  Sticky too.  So anyway, I checked the log book down there and sure enough, leaks stopped a few years back and hadn't returned until lately.  I signed it myself when the place used to be Seaworld and signed it again when I found the newest wet spots.  Whoever signed it when it dried out is beyond me.  The signature is complete bullshit.  Nothing but sprawling vine looking stuff, all wiggly and colorful.  I can't focus on it for more than a moment without getting a dark thundercloud of a headache.  And that is all I know.  Since then, I have walked the hallway for, I don't know, 100 feet or so and I get all creeped out and walk back out a little faster than it took me to get there.  It is not about being scared, but I am definitely not comfortable in there.  It is hard to explain.  And I haven't slept since the last time I was in there.  I remember thinking to myself "this is as far as I have ever been" and then I start seeing the most random things from my childhood in my mind, as if I were dreaming.  Things that make me happy and sad and some things I don't remember at all, but are really fucked up.     

dot dot dot             

the dog days of summer

Can you conjure up the image of a puppy being taken on a leashed walk for the first time in it's life? A design so foreign to a mind so free. The puppy roots itself into the sidewalk and doesn't budge. Even fifteen pounds of dead weight feels like a hundred when you are the opposing force.

This is my writing. Here is the leash. See it trailing along as I attempt to walk along? Well this puppy is thirty two years old now and he is fucking heavy. This sly dog even plays games with his master; pretending to walk along for a distance before breaking leash and disappearing for months on end. He comes back somber and skinny but leaves nothing to explanation as to where he was or how he feels.

I've never gotten very far with him on these walks except for the few times we were lost in the woods. Those times we were lost and desperate, he ran so far ahead of me that I could barely keep up. This old dog doesn't learn new tricks but he surely learns from his mistakes. These days we cant even get in sight of the woods before he breaks away from me, bites my hand or just plays dead.

If you have any tips on how to get the old stubborn mutt to take walks and eventually run free like he did when he was a pup, feel free to let me know. I am desperate.

Complete fail

Looks like I have to gracefully bow out this month. I didn't even realize that it was the 19th already. With the new macbooks, operating systems, ipods and that other unmentionable device, I have absolutely no time to write. F3GS! And I am moving this weekend too. And I am planning my vacation for July.

I would like to say that I will be writing sometime this month, but I don't want to lie to you.

I miss your brilliant minds and plan to read through your work as soon as I get a free second. Thanks for supporting me. Who fucking rocks? You do. I am glad that I find myself mentally referencing 30DoW on a daily basis and have a genuine feeling of missing it and missing writing. I love this shit man.

Lets infect the world.

Happy global warming.

time keeps on tickin

the days just fly by when you've got a blog to post on. sheesh!

I blame it on Apple. Damn you fruit with all your products! All your minions standing in lines 500 deep to converse with me! Damn you to hell!

They see your every move

"Congratulations. You just testified in court against the biggest crime family in all of Texas. Now, to keep your ass from being dead, the FBI is putting you and your family in the Witness Protection Program. Write about the first day of your new life as Chris Farmington in Poughkeepsie, NY."


Hi there. My name is Chris. I guess you can tell by my accent that I am not from around here huh? Well I just moved here from Georgia. I had been living there for a few years after leaving the Peace Corps due to an injury. Oh this? It's nothing really. Just a scratch. Well, now it is. It used to be a lot worse. While we were protesting whale poachers in the Pacific, I fell overboard and a narwhal’s sharp helical tusk slide up my leg a few feet. You wouldn't think that your leg could split wide open like a cooked sausage, right? But it can. Very easily. So that was the end of my Peace Corps ride. I started eating fish again after that.

I wouldn't say I have a career path. I'm kind of a jack of all trades. I have been in the workforce since before I was legally able to be there. I have tried almost everything and liked almost none of it. My grandfather always told me as a child, "If you ain't happy at your job, quit it. There's a lot more of 'em out there for you to be unhappy at". Maybe it's my destiny to walk out of every job I start. I think one day, when I am old and gray, I will sit down somewhere and just forget to leave. That will be my career I guess.

Yeah, I am married. Don't wear a ring though. When your hands swell up two sizes bigger than they should be because you're stuck in the freezing bones ocean water for nearly 2 hours, well, wearing something that can cut off your finger seems kind of silly. I like to think that my commitment isn't something I have to show off to everyone. The wife doesn't mind either. She says women are more likely to hit on me with a ring on my finger rather than off it. Crazy huh? No, we don't have any kids. We both decided this world was not a place to be raising children. I can't say I agree with her, but I do enjoy the freedom most of the time.

We are living off of her dead father’s life insurance. Funny to think I used to hate those trust fund kids; growing up a poor one myself. She keeps herself busy otherwise we fight. That woman's mind is like a finely tuned engine: lots of parts moving and moving. Fast. If one of them slows down or starts working out of order the whole system crashes. Fast. I don't know what she is doing today. Could be at an art show or at an oil painting class. Could be skeet shooting for all I know. I like to live my own life and let her live hers. When we get home at night, we live our lives together. I think it keeps things fresh. Well, some people might disagree but it works for us fairly well.

I have traveled a bit in my time, yes. Texas? No. Haven't been there yet. I hear the old Alamo is haunted though. I would love to check that out some day. Closest I ever made it to Texas was New Orleans. Went there to visit an old girlfriend a long time ago. We didn't end up seeing each other on that trip but I still want to go back there some day. To smell the air in the French Quarter, not to see Her. Am I hungry? Sure am. No, I could eat anything right now. After spending 6 days lost in the desert with nothing for nourishment, besides fingernails and pepper spray, a person doesn't find too many things unappealing enough to not shove down their throat.

You know, I never thought I was allergic to pineapples but my throat is cinched up like a Bangkok hooker. Getting a killer headache too. You feel bad yourself? No? I remember contracting malaria once but this is much worse. Shit! I think somebody needs to call the doctor. My heart is beating right out of my chest! Hey! What are you doing with that camera? You think this is funny? Call the damned paramedics! Where are you going? Come back here and help me out. Help me!

June 2nds reposing corspe

"Zombies are the new ninjas that were the new pirates or some circle jerk theory thereunto. And the new pirates are friggin’ Somalian. What iconic historical cluster, dead or alive (or undead) would you like to see become the new zombie? Why?"

I would love to see ancient Egyptians become the new zombie. As a child I was fascinated by the Egyptians, their spiritual beliefs, the pharaohs and the complete mystery surrounding it all. I was able to see a shriveled Ramses II before he and his artifacts were shipped back to their sandy homes back east. I will never forget it. This museum tour was in 88 or 89. I have a strong feeling that the Egyptians were visited by extraterrestrial creatures (as well as other ancient civilizations) and can be directly connected to the Pyramids that were created. The Gods were wicked enough to cause nightmares. The Goddesses, alluring and ethereal, left me desiring something more than what was offered by my rural hometown settings of Middleburg Florida. I wanted to be mummified as a child. I imagined my brains being liquefied and drawn out my nose. Embalming fluids and gold. Plated hair and olive skin. Bad ass eyeliner. Yeah, that about covers it.

june mothrafunkin first

"Part 1: Set your writing intention for the month. Pick 3-5 words on what you want to get out of this, where you want to go with your writing, etc, and elaborate on them.

Part 2: Since our group is growing and we no longer all know each other, give us a little bio of your life as a writer."



part one: dedication. inspiration. laughter. perspective. a life outside of my head. I have nothing to give you in elaboration. Eee-lab-or-a-shun. I love writing and I adore writers. It's my pron in life. I plan to write more freely this time. Whatever happens happens. I hope that what unfolds in the next 30 is as pretty as a picnic on the moon.

part two: My intention is a mostly honest one. I still hope to finish one of these things entirely and eventually. I hope to be inspired by other writers {leech the dreams and creativity from their very souls} and maybe gain a smile or two while perusing the blogs posted within these might fine 30 Days of June. When it's all over and we are naked as babes, panting on the broken pinata covered floor and surrounded by dead people we don't know... I want to look up to sky come July 1st and say to myself in a tiny tiny whisper "You finally did it you old ass motherfucker, happy birthday to you."

and fireworks.

This is my June bio. Personality #46 please step down. What an ass he can be, right? and a writer? He most surely needs some help. Lets help him together.