whoosh!

To my friends, associates, family, and the odd person who happens upon my blog:

I ate the Easter Bunny.
My Sandwich ate me.
I climbed to the top of the world but didn't yell.
Yard work fulfilled my desires.
Yes meant, I hate you.
No meant, I hate you more.
Anger turned to fear.
Fear turned to a mirror.
My soul went on a break from my body.
It became a super-tramp, and a mountain man.
My body got stuck in Provo.
Inside I'm so twisted, it is amazing that I survive.
I restrain 90% of my thoughts.
Telepathy controlled my mind.
When I slept, I flew.
Dark corridors gave me comfort.
The edge called my name.
The sun tore through my brain.
Leaving me in a puddle of rain.
The edge called my name.
I tried to refrain.
Sometimes I'm 100% insane.
I danced with a wolf.
He tore out my throat.
Like I was a billy goat.
My freedom shrank, and it stank.
I need to break free.
Free like a flying tree.

A Magical Malady

It wasn't the largest track or the prettiest. In fact it was quite ordinary for a slick track. Even with it's imperfections, at that moment, for me, it was perfect. A slight breeze ruffled my hair as I climbed into the cockpit of my go-cart.
I leaned over my left shoulder I addressed my competition, " K-bear, you don't stand a chance. I'm going to wipe you all over the track".
He replied, "Z diddy, the only thing that is going to be wiped is your corpse after I smash you".
I laughed and strapped my safety harness across my chest. The official began speaking. First I zoned out the official, then the crowd, then my opponent. This was my moment, the only thing that mattered was my own performance. My lungs paused and my heart lurched to a stop. Time stood still. Then the light turned green. My foot hit the gas and I sped around the track. Somehow K-bear got ahead and claimed the inside. I swerved in behind him, using his cart to draft. Around and around we went. A bump here, a bump there, but I couldn't weasel my way by. Then it appeared. K-bear swerved out just far enough. I sped forward. Realizing his mistake he tried to cut me off. I swerved into his cart, sending him into the wall.
Swerving around the carnage, I laughed aloud, "Serves you right. You can't touch this!"
Knowing the race was over I began to coast around the track. It wasn't nearly as much fun alone. As K-bear caught up I let him pass. Then we began to swerve back and forth. The wind was flowing through my hair, my brother was driving next to me, and we both were having a blast. The only thing that could improve the moment was a U-turn. So without further adieu I whipped around and drove in the opposite direction. As K-bear came around again, I whipped out another U-turn and pulled up behind him. What started as a hard-core race, finished as a hard-core laugh.

A Monster Mayhem

"What's up Joe?" said the three year old boy as we drove up.
"Not a lot, is your daddy home?" Joe replied, as he got out of the truck. Leaving Kaleb sitting luxuriously in the front seat while I was crammed in the back seat. Back seat might be a little too nice. It really was half the size of of small, very small, bath tub with a few seat belts. The only way someone my size could fit was by laying horizontal across the seats.
"I'll only be a minute or two," Joe told Kaleb and I. Knowing that Joe's minutes tended to be a little bit longer than 60 seconds I let out a moan.
"What was that?" asked the little boy now only fifteen feet from our small Toyota truck.
"Oh it is my monster," Kaleb responded.
"A monster?" the boy repeated incredulously as he tried to peer through the tinted glass.
"Yep I caught him the other day," Kaleb continued.
"How did you catch him?" the boy asked.
" I caught him in a bush. First I threw out some Haggis. Do you know what Haggis is?" Kaleb asked.
"No," replied the boy.
"It is something that people like to eat in Scotland. Haggis is sheep guts," Kaleb said.
"Where do you get sheep guts?" the boy asked.
"From a dead sheep," Kaleb answered.
Looking quizzical the boy asked, "Why would you want sheep guts?"
"To catch a monster named Zaccis,"Kaleb responded.
"Is that your monsters name?" asked the boy
"Yep," Kaleb said.
"The monster you caught in a bush?" asked the boy.
"Yep," Kaleb responded.
"Is that his foot next to your head," the boy asked.
"Yep," Kaleb replied as he smacked my foot.
"What does your monster like to eat?" asked the boy.
Slightly widening his eyes, Kaleb responded, "little boys wearing blue shorts, gray tee-shirts and with green eyes".
"And haggis?" asked the boy.
"Yep," Kaleb said.
"My eyes are green," said the boy.
"And your shorts are blue, you better be careful. My Zaccis might eat you," Kaleb said.
"Why?" asked the boy.
"Because he's hungry" Kaleb replied.
I decided it was time to add in another moan, "GREEEEaAAAAAAAOOOOOn".
"Can I see him?"the boy asked.
"He sounds hungry," Kaleb warned.
"I'm not scared," the boy bravely responded as he thrust out his chest to show his courage.
Kaleb helped the little boy climb into the truck.
"That isn't a monster!" the boy said. "That is a human".
"No it's a monster, and be careful you don't get too close he'll eat you!" Kaleb warned.
Like most little boys at age of three he ignored Kaleb and poked my foot.
I roared, "AGARAAAAAA" and ate the little boy.

Immortal experiences

I've been changed. First of all I usually try not to blog like this. But I've been changed. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to attack my bag strap and slide it off. Every time I get a flat tire I see a joyful beautiful beaming face. The face just sits there waiting for my response. Every time I hear the name of Obama I think of a violin. I can hear her teacher voice telling me that my project is neat. Anything purple reminds me of J. Shortly after I'm reminded of the square. I see ice cream cones and I think of punting along to his sarcastic remarks. My stomach makes a sound and I think of Dr. J aka "The Grumbler" and some French word that means talk. Saying the name Dr. J or "The Grumbler reminds me of Angels fighting Angels, which in turn reminds me of bad rapping. Green moss makes me want to fly. Pigeons remind me of pigeons. Public transport reminds me of PVC pipes. Little creature noises make me cringe and smile at the same time. "Do you need help? Should I get your mom to take you to the hospital?" When I eat dinner I'm left feeling empty as I think about banana leaves. Sleep reminds me of transition. I can't listen to Queen without dancing. Hippos are now my second favorite animal( only in a very rare, hard to find form). I hear something click and I think of black and white and purple. The purple in turn leads me to J. which leads me to Square which leads to futbol. Which leads to many many things. It is all a big circly tight knot thingy inside my head. I've been changed.

Pause

My crystal glass shattered, leaving me bare.
My eyes were peeled like an orange. Now I care.
The blanket of fear that encircled me is decaying. Now I care.
I'm part of your memories. Now I care.
I'm beginning to fight for my dreams. Now I care.
I embrace my pain. Now I care.
I am not alone. Now I care.
I took the time to discover myself. Now I care.

Almost Human

There is something innately appealing about mannequins. There semi-human forms, I say semi because many consist of only a torso, or a leg, sometimes just a head, nevertheless they are extremely thought provoking. I look at their soulless/lifeless forms and perceive a sense of longing. They just want to be noticed. I think I could collect mannequins for the rest of my life and never be bored. When I get home I think I will start collecting them. Maybe I should start a collection of mannequins from all over the world. Then I could have an art show entitled, Mannequin Heaven. I think I can help my mannequin friends be noticed. So if you know of a lonely mannequin, save them from their doom and give them to me. I'll find a friend for them.

Stone steps,
repetition, repetition, repetition
stones steps, clicking twists.
Musky air, wonderful sewage smells.

An old building in a new city,
waiting for change to compel its walls to move.
Hidden anguish gushes from it's seems.
"Please don't forget me!"
People used to remember.
Now if they notice, they say "Why should such an old building remain? Why don't they tear down those broken walls? Why don't they rid the world of a useless building?"
Dirt smeared bricks. Fallen from ages of decay. Lying as a memento of a forgotten age. Remembrance is but a dream. A dream slipping through a rushing stream.