I 'heart' Marshwiggles.
More substantialness coming later.
-The management
17 December 2009
10 December 2009
How Do You Feel?
I feel good right now. Physically fine. Mentally competent. Somewhat bloated from the egg nog and Mexican tossed salad, but otherwise great. I need a hair-cut and this bothers me a little...not a lot as I don’t have a girlfriend, or soul-mate, or any other kind of primate to impress right now. Emotionally…I feel stable...a little shaky at times, but that’s due to dietary influences and rising/lowering hormone levels. I feel witty…on a scale of 1 to 10…ummm...about a 6.75…+/- a percentage point. I feel smug. A little sarcastic…just enough to irritate people an hour or two from a full-blown tension headache-no more, no less. That’s pretty much how I feel right now.
Lately, I’ve been talking to myself using short declarative sentences…using the intended ‘I’ to save time. I also answer myself using the ‘you’ understood. Most often though the conversations consist of sentence fragments with lots of adjectives. I don’t think this makes for good writing though...nor does using the word ‘though’ a lot. I read yesterday that good writers use verbs-the action ones-and leave the passive ones to the novices to keep them poor and practicing. I tell myself it’s like reading a John Steinbeck novel...someday I hope to believe it. I tell this to my friends-all of who are invisible by the way. Most of my invisible amigos speak Spanglish which I appreciate since I love Mexican food and can now read the labels in the Hispanic section of Food Lion. Once, one of my friends...she's from New Zealand...asked me to 'fetch a trolley' before we entered the deli section. I stood there in complete silence for an entire minute trying to translate this into English. A kindly cashier girl, whom I was not trying to impress due to my unique hair situation, asked if I needed any help.
I said, “No thank you, I’m just a little confused right now.”
She nodded and gave me a shopping cart to lessen my dilemma.
I thought about dating the other night. The Aztecs were good at it and constructed elaborate carved stones showing how to do it right.
“The stones are still there,” Raquel told me. “Unfortunately the Aztecs are extinct and the stones untranslatable as nobody alive now speaks Aztec.”
The Aztecs caused many problems going extinct, for now, nobody knows how to date properly. Although…the Mayans say we need not worry as the world will end at precisely midnight three years and nine days from now.
I wish I were attracted to Mayan women.
Another somebody I like is Humor. Humor and I used to date off and on for a time. We took long road trips together and went to museums with dinosaur fossils, cave man dioramas, diodes, and abstract art made by people who talked to themselves. After a time we went our separate ways and I haven’t seen her since. A co-worker told me to try Googling her.
I told him, "I’m not kind of person…I have morals you know."
Lately, I’ve been talking to myself using short declarative sentences…using the intended ‘I’ to save time. I also answer myself using the ‘you’ understood. Most often though the conversations consist of sentence fragments with lots of adjectives. I don’t think this makes for good writing though...nor does using the word ‘though’ a lot. I read yesterday that good writers use verbs-the action ones-and leave the passive ones to the novices to keep them poor and practicing. I tell myself it’s like reading a John Steinbeck novel...someday I hope to believe it. I tell this to my friends-all of who are invisible by the way. Most of my invisible amigos speak Spanglish which I appreciate since I love Mexican food and can now read the labels in the Hispanic section of Food Lion. Once, one of my friends...she's from New Zealand...asked me to 'fetch a trolley' before we entered the deli section. I stood there in complete silence for an entire minute trying to translate this into English. A kindly cashier girl, whom I was not trying to impress due to my unique hair situation, asked if I needed any help.
I said, “No thank you, I’m just a little confused right now.”
She nodded and gave me a shopping cart to lessen my dilemma.
I thought about dating the other night. The Aztecs were good at it and constructed elaborate carved stones showing how to do it right.
“The stones are still there,” Raquel told me. “Unfortunately the Aztecs are extinct and the stones untranslatable as nobody alive now speaks Aztec.”
The Aztecs caused many problems going extinct, for now, nobody knows how to date properly. Although…the Mayans say we need not worry as the world will end at precisely midnight three years and nine days from now.
I wish I were attracted to Mayan women.
Another somebody I like is Humor. Humor and I used to date off and on for a time. We took long road trips together and went to museums with dinosaur fossils, cave man dioramas, diodes, and abstract art made by people who talked to themselves. After a time we went our separate ways and I haven’t seen her since. A co-worker told me to try Googling her.
I told him, "I’m not kind of person…I have morals you know."
03 December 2009
Bone Gnawer's Great Adventure
Bone Gnawer grunted.
As dawn arose, bright and rosy-fingered, Bone Gnawer appeared on the hilltop. He had awaken an hour earlier and discovered to his horror the remains from yesterday’s sacrifice to Bel were gone. In his primitive mind, he saw images of fanged beasts carrying the flesh to their lairs. He shrugged it off. Sometimes, it was hard to discern the waking hours from the visions he saw at night.
Speech was difficult for Bone Gnawer. Years spent drinking mead and fighting rival clans robbed him of use of his tongue and now he saw the world as through the eyes of a child. A life spent chewing Flemweed gave his face a fierce gnarled countenance and the other hominids naturally avoided him and deferred to his presence on sight.
Out of fear, out of respect, out of self-preservation.
Bone Gnawer was a lonely beast and the years had not been kind.
The People of the Red Dot especially avoided him. Once, when he was young, the Red Dot clan members played with him, but over the course of time they gradually went their own ways and avoided all contact with the Gnawers.
Such things were mysterious to Bone Gnawer and his clan, but as their leader it was his duty to lead them from their life in the box and possibly see into the matter.
Perhaps the answer could be found in the Blue Temple. A number of years ago the pale-haired barbarian princess came from the land of the Temple’s founder…little was known of that place except that it was a rolling expanse of hills and farmland…a land of pigs and money where all lived in one large village and shared everything.
Expedition:
The team of horses carried Bone Gnawer to the Blue Temple. Soon, he glimpsed the holy place and felt with the fibers of his being that this could be his second home. He had been here before. Once, Bone Gnawer and Leaf Chewer spent a good two hours gazing into the vision stones and fell asleep. Only to be awakened and hustled into the night by a tall dark man in black-a caretaker of the temple. He felt it was a misunderstanding yet something within him said otherwise. He distinctly recalled seeing similar dark men lurking around the Red Dot temple…who were they?
Mysteriousness.
The black desert loomed. Bits of scattered plant remains rolled across the land and Glow trees with small grey carrion birds perched in their tops gazed ominously like vultures. Metallic reptile beasts lurked in the corners, occasionally running across the black expanse. The way seemed perilous but meat and drink were to be had…go on he must.
He scratched his furry belly, and with grim determination entered. Apart from some sloth-like creatures wandering around, the Blue Temple was empty. He walked past the vision stones and passed by what must be the most holy place as there was a large collection of shoes leading to two very large dark doors. He in turn removed his old muddy boots and felt a lightness of heart as one of the sloth-like creatures smiled at him.
He continued on.
The temple, he noticed, was filled with Sun God images. Did the Blue Temple pilgrims worship the sun? Why were all the temple workers downcast with the perpetual smiling Sun God watching from above?
More mysteriousness.
Bone Gnawer sighed and met a lady-in-blue staring grimly at a collection of scrolls featuring skinny hairless hominids.
“Chick…chick…chicken…wings…food?” (The words came out rather slow.)
She nodded as she pressed her stylus onto a box-of-many-colors and pointed to a stack of bananas and…oh’ great joy! Piles of meat running half the length of the floor!
Suddenly-overhead-came a rattling sound. He paused and listened attentively. It was the calm before a storm. Something great was about to happen. The hair on his chest stood on end and all nature held her breath as the scratchings gave forth to words.
A Voice. The Voice. The Voice thundered. Spasms of wonder and joy permeated his being. He trembled violently.
“Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers…”
As dawn arose, bright and rosy-fingered, Bone Gnawer appeared on the hilltop. He had awaken an hour earlier and discovered to his horror the remains from yesterday’s sacrifice to Bel were gone. In his primitive mind, he saw images of fanged beasts carrying the flesh to their lairs. He shrugged it off. Sometimes, it was hard to discern the waking hours from the visions he saw at night.
Speech was difficult for Bone Gnawer. Years spent drinking mead and fighting rival clans robbed him of use of his tongue and now he saw the world as through the eyes of a child. A life spent chewing Flemweed gave his face a fierce gnarled countenance and the other hominids naturally avoided him and deferred to his presence on sight.
Out of fear, out of respect, out of self-preservation.
Bone Gnawer was a lonely beast and the years had not been kind.
The People of the Red Dot especially avoided him. Once, when he was young, the Red Dot clan members played with him, but over the course of time they gradually went their own ways and avoided all contact with the Gnawers.
Such things were mysterious to Bone Gnawer and his clan, but as their leader it was his duty to lead them from their life in the box and possibly see into the matter.
Perhaps the answer could be found in the Blue Temple. A number of years ago the pale-haired barbarian princess came from the land of the Temple’s founder…little was known of that place except that it was a rolling expanse of hills and farmland…a land of pigs and money where all lived in one large village and shared everything.
Expedition:
The team of horses carried Bone Gnawer to the Blue Temple. Soon, he glimpsed the holy place and felt with the fibers of his being that this could be his second home. He had been here before. Once, Bone Gnawer and Leaf Chewer spent a good two hours gazing into the vision stones and fell asleep. Only to be awakened and hustled into the night by a tall dark man in black-a caretaker of the temple. He felt it was a misunderstanding yet something within him said otherwise. He distinctly recalled seeing similar dark men lurking around the Red Dot temple…who were they?
Mysteriousness.
The black desert loomed. Bits of scattered plant remains rolled across the land and Glow trees with small grey carrion birds perched in their tops gazed ominously like vultures. Metallic reptile beasts lurked in the corners, occasionally running across the black expanse. The way seemed perilous but meat and drink were to be had…go on he must.
He scratched his furry belly, and with grim determination entered. Apart from some sloth-like creatures wandering around, the Blue Temple was empty. He walked past the vision stones and passed by what must be the most holy place as there was a large collection of shoes leading to two very large dark doors. He in turn removed his old muddy boots and felt a lightness of heart as one of the sloth-like creatures smiled at him.
He continued on.
The temple, he noticed, was filled with Sun God images. Did the Blue Temple pilgrims worship the sun? Why were all the temple workers downcast with the perpetual smiling Sun God watching from above?
More mysteriousness.
Bone Gnawer sighed and met a lady-in-blue staring grimly at a collection of scrolls featuring skinny hairless hominids.
“Chick…chick…chicken…wings…food?” (The words came out rather slow.)
She nodded as she pressed her stylus onto a box-of-many-colors and pointed to a stack of bananas and…oh’ great joy! Piles of meat running half the length of the floor!
Suddenly-overhead-came a rattling sound. He paused and listened attentively. It was the calm before a storm. Something great was about to happen. The hair on his chest stood on end and all nature held her breath as the scratchings gave forth to words.
A Voice. The Voice. The Voice thundered. Spasms of wonder and joy permeated his being. He trembled violently.
“Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers…”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)