January 2006 Archives

So let's see: Iran has a new democractically elected leader that, well, he's not nice. Iraq is in the process of putting together a new government that's likely to end up far more pro-Iran and pro-fundamentalism than the Bathists, and now Gaza and the West Bank have elected Hamas as their majority party.

I can just hear Brer Osama Bin Laden saying to Brer George W. Bush: "wow, if there's one thing I can't stand, it's your democratic way of life. Please, Brer Mr. President, whatever you do, don't throw me into that democracy patch."

For more reactionary mutterings, click your Brer-self on over to Edgewise....

Just a quick heads-up for them what follow such things, that the Don Quixote Deathmarch is now officially looming on the horizon. The exact start date hasn't been selected yet, but it'll most likely be right around the beginning of March. Probably a Tuesday.

Me, I've got a little work to do before we kicking the DQDM off -- like, finishing the last one (At Swim-Two-Birds), which I jumped back into yesterday. And ordering those dang Gravity's Rainbow Deathmarch mugs! Must get mugs!

OK...watch this space for more news.....
-Cecil

The kind of place
where they name
their kids "Hunter"

and mean it.

This weekend my 5-year old asked: "wouldn't it be funny if 'Justice League' was 'Justice Legal'"?

Like it was some hit ABC show, where big-city super heroes
practice the law wearing costumes.

Never using their super powers
just, you know
arguing the case
fighting over turf

falling in love in spandex.

Flash is bucking to make partner.
And maybe Batman is the D.A.

The car was a used Chrysler LeBaron convertible
parked just around the corner.

Dark blue and dented, it had lived
a bumpy life.

They got in and Cal started the engine.

And when he shifted, the car rumbled
and fought back, and to Greg,
it felt like Cal was shifting something
inside Greg's ass cheeks.

If you find yourself
stepping on the scale after peeing

well,

that's not a good sign.

I signed a lot of stuff today
and I don't mean to brag
but no.

I do.

It was the way
I curved that capital "C" in Cecil.
and looped the "l."

My graceful scoop.
The pen's hurled weight.

Like I was piloting
a space plane

made of jet black ink.

He projects things on her
like she's a drive-in movie.

He plays whole movies on her.

If we're all drawing a face together
I don't want to draw the mouth.

I'll draw the hair --
just lines, loose and easy.

Or the eyes.

But not the lips.
The way they curve and join

and hold back
her teeth.

Don't make me draw the lips.

I found this spam comment on a friend's site yesterday (minus the line breaks). I've swapped out the thing they were selling and replaced it with "clown shoes" because, well, I don't want to sell their stuff.

But I loved this spam comment. And I thought you might too:

"Clown Shoes said...

Have you seen
any information
on personalized baby clown shoes?

I just have
not had the best results
when blog surfing today.

Anywho

back to my endless search
for personalized

clown shoes."

Forgot an old friend's name tonight. I
thought it was "David Shapiro,
of Kansas" but it's not, is it?
It's something else, something 
    equally 
    common
    unsearchable.
Or maybe it is?

Lordy lordy I've
lost all 
confidence.

Everything is black and white here.
They shine bright lights on us and shout
"Passports? ID? What is your country?"

We moan and
claw at our eyes with fingers
cracked and crooked.

Sometimes the light is swung about and
I think I see a form, stout -- squat -- three arms?

This is Florence. They
speak English here too.

What our crazy neighbor said to my wife the other night
not realizing that my wife is
"the woman before you"

and that we'd recently fixed the porch light,
she said:

"I'm glad you're here
because the woman
before you
was a devil

they lived in darkness

and you know about darkness."

"Did you hear that?

That's the sound of
me

throwing my
Dale Carnegie book

into the trash."

Eventually, so few people
bothered to vote any more

all they had to do was
gas the voting booths on election day

to get rid of the remaining
troublemakers.

A girl lives in a castle, surrounded by enormous wealth. She is ignored by virtually everyone. Unbeknownst to her, she is also the source of all this wealth.

A woman she believes is her mother lives with her in the castle. This woman is very sad and still, quiet and pale.

The castle is run by a cold man with a ridiculous mustache.

Even though the girl is surrounded by great food, pastries aplenty, etc., she can sense something's wrong with the situation. You can too. So you apply for a job as their chimney sweep. And you get it, because you've got a certain spark.

Every day, as soon as your work is done, you get to work cheering the girl up, bringing a little fun back to her life. Once you've gained her trust, you tell her the truth of the situation, which is this:

The girl's parents died years ago. The woman she thinks is her mother is actually an employee of this corporation which has taken over their assets. All the money is really the child's, and if she can only get herself to a certain vault, hidden deep within a set of far-off mountains, she can prove her identity (fitting her hand into a flexible, metallic machine designed to preserve the shape of the left hand as a child grows).

And so off she goes. Off you both go. And the adventures you have!

Generous.