Pounding the cement the persistent throb of my toe, rubbing in yesteryear's sneakers, gives way as the mile, then the miles go by. Roger Miller strums and croons idiotically then Eddie swings his ax, a riff and a beat drown away civilization's notes, the internal combustion engines that I run beside. Thrumming rubber rubs out birdsong and the winds that push branches aside, that whisper over shingles, in and out open porches, percussing unashamedly with storm doors and loose shutters. The cliche dog barks in a rude city where pockets of green cost more than the winter sun can give, it pierces the void, reigning under cotton candy skies. How difficult can it be to channel the jaguar, to hallucinate away the street lamps and naked limbs, hanging heavy with fruit only for a time, waiting the ravenous flocks to alight and greedily feed, to picture the plain sky blotted out by lush jungles, the pavement by fern and decay? Only pitfalls remain to the frozen footfall, freezing under December's dying season, threading a course over curb, crack and stoplight. Why does one climb a mountain, or run to winter's end? Because it's there.
try this on for size
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Tom And Dinosaur Hand, movies!
Tom: Me and Dinosaur Hand decided to watch a few movies, including one western called Duck, You Sucker. It's better known as A Fist Full of Dynamite...Dinosaur Hand: Yeah, but I've never seen either that or this!
Tom: Right, they're the same movie; that's what I'm getting at.
D.H: Oh. Well there's one hell of a big explosion at 2:20. This is a godawful long movie.
Tom: Did you enjoy it, Dino? There were several explosions. Going into a movie called A Fist Full of Dynamite, I guess one would expect that.
D.H: But it was called Duck, You Sucker. We didn't know about the dynamite. Bonus!
Tom: This film was directed by Sergio Leone and stars James Coburn...
D.H: Who was awesome! What a mustache.
Tom: ...and Rod Steiger.
D.H: Was that guy in The Great Escape? Because I loved that movie. Not so many explosions, though.
Tom: Everybody was in that movie.
D.H: Not the Terminator....he wasn't in it!
Tom: I sorta kinda liked this movie. It had a weird soundtrack, but actually got some good reviews in that area. There's an entertaining write up on the movie here. If you're a fan of the Clint Eastwood trilogy, then you'll like this movie, too.
D.H: I say, eh.
Tom: Next up is a more recent thriller called Limitless, starring Bradly Cooper, and some guy called Robert De Niro.
Dinosaur Hand: I like the idea of taking a pill to become smarter, but I always have trouble swallowing them...
Tom: Do you mean swallowing pills or the slightly inane plot of this movie?
D.H: Are you making fun of me? Because, I guess because I can't take the pill, maybe I'm not smart enough to know this movie is dumb? It's a freakin' conundrum!
Tom: Alright, don't get me wrong; I did enjoy the movie, and I liked Cooper in it, and it was shot beautifully with some really cool scenes and great characters...but it had problems.
D.H: ..no car chases or explosions...but a couple cool fight scenes and...ta da...murder!
Tom: Ooh, the plot thickens. If you want to watch a fun thriller, then I'd recommend Limitless.
D.H: Why not?
D.H: Hey, I watched my first Korean movie today!
Tom: Ha. Me too – Castaway on the Moon. It's a S. Korean movie, a comedy/love story about a guy who has lost everything and decides to end it all.
D.H: Only he lives, and winds up on a deserted island, in the middle of the city. Weird. And there's this weirdo girl, too. I kind of dig her.
Tom: She's a sad case. There's a real bond that forms between them. How? Y
ou'll have to watch it to find out. I really liked this movie. It was funny, sad, clever, joyful, inspiring...D.H: Would you say it's a combination of Robinson Crusoe and Castaway? And also maybe Diehard?
Tom: No. You're an idiot.
D.H: I'm a hand. Rawr!
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Dog versus Cat kind of Christmas
having a wonderful Christmas, and wishing the same for all of my blog friends.
Time for some tea and a cookie...enjoy!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
notsomuch
microsnoz components piss me offthey're too small, they never piece together
right
the instructions are in English
olde
and the diagram
when folded in three
then spread wide like a flapping accordion
depicts the grand history of Peter D. Smeek
door knob salesman
.
plastic nozzles
the small round ones with teeth
get stuck in unfortunate places
in cracks
in hoses and tubercles
and nooks and crannies
they make noises
confounded blurts and hiccups
when the winds blow up along
the floorboards
.
these components
stamped
made in China
manufactured and sold to the highest bidder
they come with a guarantee
and a solid state home engineer
well oiled
coiffed to perfection
it sits on a spring ready to tidy up
.
the user fee is enormous
.
everyone ought to have one of these
microsnoz components
they fuel the planet
with round incompetence
and everyone agrees
what the world needs
.
is more of that
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
these things will happen...
“Can't you see the margins are too wide?” he yelled at the walls. The walls cringed back from the abuse, or so he imagined, being a short man and nearly bald. At least the walls should fear him, if nothing else did. He sat on a stool and ate his soup. A wee mousy peeked out from its bed of tatter in a corner, under a broken shelf.
Two men looked through a port hole down at the captive man. “What is he doing now?” “He is yelling into the air. And waving his arms.” “Let me look. Oh, he is eating the soup.” “Fantastic.”
The little man was a throwback. Some officials from a division across the ocean had found him wandering in the streets. He didn't speak the updated dialect of the reset language. His speech was archaic, at least two or three hundred years ancient. Some of the locals had been throwing bread at him and the little man was growing fat, sitting against monuments, shouting at the birds. They finally crated him up and sent him to the research institute.
“Where did he come from?” “Maybe an aberrant time shift.” “Aren't they all regulated?” “Sometimes one will get away...”
The rodent was agitated. A colored light started flashing from the ceiling, twenty feet overhead. The little man saw the mouse chittering and scrambling in the corner. He started muttering at it.
“I suppose you will be wanting some of my soup. Well I ain't got any crackers to go with it even. What kind of nitty natty place is this anyway? No crackers, pfaw!”
The two men exchanged looks. “Is it working?” “I think so, it is starting to. I wonder what he is saying?” “The transcripts will tell us, if the program can decipher them.” “Certainly. Oh look, the mouse is going forward with our plans.” “Excellent.”
The colored light was blinking and the mouse began running circles in confusion. The man put down his bowl and stood up to get a closer look. He slapped his hands together and laughed. “Dance mousy, dance dance dance.”
The mouse darted across the floor right at the little man, who came from a time familiar with mice and hadn't any fear of the creatures. He knelt down and put a hand on the floor for the rodent to climb onto. The mouse was incensed, and bit down on the man's little finger, then ran up his arm and jumped onto his head, started rummaging around the only tuft of hair it could find and hunkered down, breathing hard.
“Freakin' little shit!” howled the man. But he didn't jump up and slap the mouse away. He settled back onto his stool and leaned into the corner.
“He's sleeping. With the mouse in his hair!” “Astounding. But will it work?” “The contagion is taken from storage, who knows?” “Well, time will tell.” They watched for an hour, taking turns, until one of the men started to see a rapid progression from the mouse induced serum. “He is changing!”
Three days later, the man got up from his stool, walked to the door and entered a code into the glowing blue sensor from his enlarged frontal lobe. He looked back into the room with his left eyeball, and into his mind with the right. He was eight inches taller, equipped with a flowing manly mane and the mouse on his head had grown veins that spread from forehead to the occipital.
The two men rushed down from the loft and watched as the man walked into the glass assessment tank. A simple diagnostic program pushed air around his body and inserted microscopic aluminum viruses into his veins. He stood on a polymer disc that rotated and his hair stood wholly on end. All checks complete. Integration formalized. Modern man fully functioning. They grinned and opened the airlock.
“How do you feel?” “Do you remember anything?” “What was the world like three hundred years ago?”
“I feel like a god. I remember eating steak, sipping wine, and loving women. It was great and you are the two butt ugliest mother effers I've ever seen.”
“Oh.” “Well, do you have any questions for us?”
The man thought about it. His mental processes were amazingly fast. He could
do computations in his head that only computers could accomplish in his time. “Only one. Are there jetpacks yet?”
Two men looked through a port hole down at the captive man. “What is he doing now?” “He is yelling into the air. And waving his arms.” “Let me look. Oh, he is eating the soup.” “Fantastic.”
The little man was a throwback. Some officials from a division across the ocean had found him wandering in the streets. He didn't speak the updated dialect of the reset language. His speech was archaic, at least two or three hundred years ancient. Some of the locals had been throwing bread at him and the little man was growing fat, sitting against monuments, shouting at the birds. They finally crated him up and sent him to the research institute.
“Where did he come from?” “Maybe an aberrant time shift.” “Aren't they all regulated?” “Sometimes one will get away...”
The rodent was agitated. A colored light started flashing from the ceiling, twenty feet overhead. The little man saw the mouse chittering and scrambling in the corner. He started muttering at it.
“I suppose you will be wanting some of my soup. Well I ain't got any crackers to go with it even. What kind of nitty natty place is this anyway? No crackers, pfaw!”
The two men exchanged looks. “Is it working?” “I think so, it is starting to. I wonder what he is saying?” “The transcripts will tell us, if the program can decipher them.” “Certainly. Oh look, the mouse is going forward with our plans.” “Excellent.”
The colored light was blinking and the mouse began running circles in confusion. The man put down his bowl and stood up to get a closer look. He slapped his hands together and laughed. “Dance mousy, dance dance dance.”
The mouse darted across the floor right at the little man, who came from a time familiar with mice and hadn't any fear of the creatures. He knelt down and put a hand on the floor for the rodent to climb onto. The mouse was incensed, and bit down on the man's little finger, then ran up his arm and jumped onto his head, started rummaging around the only tuft of hair it could find and hunkered down, breathing hard.
“Freakin' little shit!” howled the man. But he didn't jump up and slap the mouse away. He settled back onto his stool and leaned into the corner.
“He's sleeping. With the mouse in his hair!” “Astounding. But will it work?” “The contagion is taken from storage, who knows?” “Well, time will tell.” They watched for an hour, taking turns, until one of the men started to see a rapid progression from the mouse induced serum. “He is changing!”
Three days later, the man got up from his stool, walked to the door and entered a code into the glowing blue sensor from his enlarged frontal lobe. He looked back into the room with his left eyeball, and into his mind with the right. He was eight inches taller, equipped with a flowing manly mane and the mouse on his head had grown veins that spread from forehead to the occipital.
The two men rushed down from the loft and watched as the man walked into the glass assessment tank. A simple diagnostic program pushed air around his body and inserted microscopic aluminum viruses into his veins. He stood on a polymer disc that rotated and his hair stood wholly on end. All checks complete. Integration formalized. Modern man fully functioning. They grinned and opened the airlock.
“How do you feel?” “Do you remember anything?” “What was the world like three hundred years ago?”
“I feel like a god. I remember eating steak, sipping wine, and loving women. It was great and you are the two butt ugliest mother effers I've ever seen.”
“Oh.” “Well, do you have any questions for us?”
The man thought about it. His mental processes were amazingly fast. He could
do computations in his head that only computers could accomplish in his time. “Only one. Are there jetpacks yet?”Sunday, December 4, 2011
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