Forgetting everything they were taught.
Jump up and meet the new dawn!
It’s an envelope filled with expansion.
Expansion from a new universe. What, The Flock?
A new universe?
A new question is more appropriate because no one is ever going to read this.
Recreate a simple life. A simple thought
While you tend The Flock on the plains of a life that was never envisioned!
Of course you expected the unexpected.
You rolled out of bed one day and assumed that the rest of your life would be a trip to the moon.
And it is.
My moon is filled with the laughter of a choir that just realized it was free to choose between Bach and Big Boi.
So ya’ll get ready.
My ship is sailing and the wind is favorable.
For the new world is just beyond the horizon.
But words – well, they accompany throughout, Blah, blah, blah…
Dec. 1, 2010
Oh The Humanity!: Ostersund’s Diabolical Diarrhea Dwarf
See Also: “If An Isolated Population of Scandinavians Fall Victim to a Third World Parasite And No One Is Around To Hear Their Communal Stomachs Groan, Does Anyone Care?”
*Warning: I apologize for the following verbose and flowery language. It is mostly employed as a means to amuse myself and has absolutely no place in the English cannon. Shakespeare would vomit uncontrollably at the verbal regurgitation of any phrases hereunder abused.
Ostersund, Sweden is a city under duress, a populous affected by millions of tiny parasites that have recently made the stomachs and intestinal tracts of these otherwise peaceful Arians their new home. The citizens of this fine city have been informed to take all precautions but sadly, the news has come too late for many of these helpless victims. Indeed, the news of a parasite pulsating through the pipes of the Ostersund water supply only arrived after it had been lurking there for more than a week. In that time, the good people of this fine city had been happily hydrating their way to imminent Third-World infection, the likes of which has not been seen since Vikings drove there seawolves across this arctic landscape (*artistic license – historically inaccurate but entertaining nevertheless).
The first “rumblings” of an outbreak came as thousands of gastroinstestinal cases arrived at once to the Ostersund hospital. After a painstaking investigation, authorities arrived at the conclusion that Ostersund’s beloved lake, a wide expanse of seemingly pristine water, serene in it’s vastness, hugging Ostersund’s city limits like a Polar bear caresses it’s kill, was the original host – the vehicle by which these microscopic malfeasants had crawled their way into the “bowels” of this sleepy metropolis.
Like covert mercenaries sent to wreak havoc on a small defenseless village, these tiny merchants of intestinal discomfort lie dormant in the GI tract for several days. In this time, one feels no pain and goes on living an otherwise carefree existence, perhaps consuming a pint of the local ale over a meal of lutfisk and boiled potatoes, or padding the frozen streets of Sweden searching out a Christmas scarf for that special blondie back home. In any event, the host carries their abysmal cargo around for the better part of a week until the little buggers choose to dig their heels in. After that, it’s a veritable smorgasbord of guttural ills, lasting anywhere from twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Some speculate the pin-sized piranhas can batter the intestinal walls for up to a month.
So far, many of the world cup athletes have fallen ill. Most have recovered quickly and the races will go on despite this recent scourge.
Nov. 16, 2009
It’s a maze down here really.
piles around like Sunday morning sections.
One man is smiling,
a zealot, comfortably seated,
by a sitting dog, a crying baby, a page-turn.
What does he really have to say?
Clean your hands?
Take the stairs?
Find God for only three!
Yes T-H-R-E-E easy installments.
Maybe it’s not important.
Blue and white windows,
like someone turned off the rest of the rainbow.
It’s cold when you open your arms,
If you breath.
And yet, we go on.
We let our eyelids rise
for no other reason
than to make sure something hasn’t changed.
A weathered fisherman, looking up from his net,
checking the horizon,
scanning the endless waves,
alone in a vast ocean.
Untethered ice hurtles,
only to shatter into a thousands slivers of light
against cold slate.
Danger melts away.
A dagger point that,
upon nearing warm flesh,
shrinks, returning in fear to its sheath
to let a dubious hand caress an unknowing breast.
Again Silence leaps, pounces on the scene.
A tailored assassin in a dark night
Lethal, calm, and refined.
Or is this the intensity of absence
that rocks me alert,
At once a different person
in the same scene, disguised in repose.
A safari cat, waiting for the herd to stray closer.
Completely in control of the field.
Death is only a decision for him
a choice for him alone,
and no other beast on this plain…
I snarl and reach for my coffee.
I poked myself in the eye with an antenna
June 14, 2009
I was getting in my car last night, like I’ve done a thousand times before, and I noticed a piece of cheese on the seat. Just a small piece of cheese that had fallen off the sandwich I was eating just before I got out of the car. So, I see this and decide that I will pick up the piece and move it to a better location (outside the car). But for some reason, the way I moved to do this, I pushed the tip of my car’s antenna right into my eye socket! It was pitch black outside and so I had no idea what happened or why, all of the sudden, one side of my face was in serious pain and I could see only white out of one eye. Fortunately, my eye was closed – or at least it closed upon first contact, I’m not really sure.
This capped off a week of random accidents. I’d like to think that I’m pretty good at rollerskiing. I mean, I spend a lot of time on them… I should be somewhat adept. Not this week. I had two workouts, the same workout in fact, on two different days. At the start of this workout, I did Impulse sprints, 15 seconds max effort. On each of these days, at the same point in the training, at roughly the same geographic point, I poled the top of my rollerski and went down on the pavement at max speed.
What’s the deal with wordpress, why am I wasting my time with it, and existentialism?
Nov. 22, 2008
WordPress is being incredibly slow today… I mean it is deathly slow… the grass has grown three inches outside since I started trying to edit my website (and it’s 20 degrees in November). That’s slow. So what am I forced to do? Forced to sit here watching a little blue bar creep across the bottom of the page… hmmm. Well, in the five minutes it takes for each page to load, it has forced me to wonder why I’m still too stubborn to give up for today and do something more sensible… like pack for a month in Europe. So, why haven’t I?
1. I don’t enjoy packing
2. I REALLY want to get this done. More specifically, I don’t want to walk away from so much time without anything to show for it. More generally, I want some sense of accomplishment today.
This brings up an interesting point: Is this a basic part of my existence? Well, yes… I guess. I mean who doesn’t get up in the morning and want to accomplish something? In the words of the great John Prine,
“How the hell can a person wake up in the morning, come home in the evening and have nothing to say?”
Exactly… So WHAM! Here it is I’m doing this out of an inborn urge to maintain the definition of my existence – “I think (and wait for endless pages to load so I can say that I ‘really have something to show for myself’, therefore I am!” Et tu Brutis? Wow… if you’ve gotten this far, I sincerely apologize.