Pungsnotded

Wings

Less Ethereal, more dust. These aren’t abalone shells with glitter and shiny wings. They are faded and black and crispy. And when they extend, it is a little bit smoke and a little bit fire. It makes no difference, they are utilitarian, tools, extending from the back, connecting, jointed to the finger tips. They go up, a Victorian parasol, thrown into the sky, not gliding, they jerk, they bump, the cobwebs are thrown out. Nothing graceful, only elemental. We will bring it all down.

Add comment November 9th, 2007

Conspiracy Theories

Conspiracy Theories

People, you know that I do not buy into conspiracy theories, that much. I would rather pretend that the government is there to help us, that police officers are our friends, and that priests just really love God.

But, then some grandparent bought my children this stuff called “Moon Sand” Why in the fuck would anyone invent this wet sand crap and let kids play with it? Who invented this shit? It is worse than sand. Seriously, I would rather let a truck dump a load of sand into my living room. It does not dry, it crumbles and gets everywhere.

Now, we all know that I have one tiny vein pumping blood into my tiny brain, and one more little disturbance up there, may just be the last little bit of sanity I have left. I am like one brain cell away, one freakout away, from being locked in a mint green room, away from all of you. So I think the government invented this stupid children’s thing, just to piss me off, and keep me running the vacuum instead of watching Shepard Smith deliver the news, on that wonderful Fox News channel.

They can’t keep me down, I will not let the terrorists win, as soon as it is naptime, I think all the Moonsand will mysteriously disappear, into the trash, along with all brain function in a little place I like to call Crazytown, population one.

Add comment November 9th, 2007