DYE. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 30th, 2011 | Author: | 1 Comment »

 

When I hear a girl talk about how she has dyed and stripped and bleached her hair to the point that she no longer knows what her true hair color is, something in me is alarmed. It’s partly sadness, but mostly, it is fear. It’s the same reason why I’ve been relatively cautious to take drugs for most of my life. During high school, when some kids experiment with marijuana, I made sure to grill them. “Do you feel different afterwards? Do you feel any dumber?” Most kids at that age, of course, remarked that they in fact felt smarter not only after smoking up, but while smoking up.

I must’ve had this great love of my identity at the time. Despite being picked on and probably not the most comprehensible kid, or I guess because of this, I must’ve regarded my intelligence as a large part of my identity. And I most feared losing it.

And that’s still a great fear of mine. Every once and awhile, when I can’t quite wrap my head around something, when I’m in the middle of a conversation and nothing weirdly funny comes to mind to add to it, I start to wonder whether I was smarter just five years ago than I am now. I never used to drink, I say to myself. Maybe I’m killing brain cells. Maybe it’s cause I’m no longer in school, maybe I’m not reading enough. Nearly without causation I am thrust into a small paroxysm of fear, wondering “have I lost what I used to be?”

I think it’s important to realize that I can’t answer this. There’s no way to do a side by side comparison. I can’t even take the SATs I took back then, because they’ve changed too. What I do think is possible is continued change, more change. If I want to be able to think on a certain level, I just need to start thinking on that level. I don’t think there’s anything I ca n do for the circumstances I’m in — I have very little free will in that respect. But over my identity, I can probably grab some giant wheel somewhere, turn it in a certain direction, and ease it on a course. I could either dye my hair some wild color, or I could think hard and attempt a strand for strand replication of the original shade. It may not be a perfect copy. It just needs to look good.

 

 


ARRANGING. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 29th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

 

“Hey Joe! Which section should we put these Werther’s?”

 


EXIT. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 28th, 2011 | Author: | 1 Comment »

 

Talked to my dad on the phone today. A question entered my mind.

“Do you ever get kind of sad that you can’t ground me or Natalie anymore? Like, do you ever get kind of depressed you no longer have that power?”

There was silence on the phone for a bit, which made me think I had hit a chord. Then he said, “You know, it’s not a big deal, because I can still take you out of inheritance. Not as immediate, I guess. I’d have to wait 40 years or so.”

“And you’d be grounded in your own way.”

“Yeah.”

“We’d have solidarity in that, at least.”

 

 


SHOWER. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 27th, 2011 | Author: | 1 Comment »

 

Without doing much
All the grit is lifted off
And again you’re free

 


EXAMPLE. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 25th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

 

I wouldn’t want to be

this guy.


SHADE. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 24th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

SHADES OF BLACK THROUGH WHITE ON A 1-10 SCALE

1 – Black
2 – Gray
3 – Gray
4 – Gray
5 – Gray
6 – Gray
7 – Gray
8 – Gray
9 – Gray
10 – White

 


PEDESTRIAN. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 24th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

 

So I’m walking down the street and I hear this bang, this huge freakin’ bang, and I’m like “what was that?” Then this bird falls right onto the top of the storefront. I look up, feathers floating down everywhere. It must’ve ran into the building.

A bunch of us gather around this bird that’s lying on the ground, not dead at all. Its eyes are wide with terror. Something seems different about this animal. I kept thinking it was looking at me. A few people were asking if we should do anything, if we should call anybody. Who is there to call? When somebody offered to drop it in the trash, all he got was dirty looks, so he walked away.

I couldn’t handle all of that, what to do and all of that, so I ducked into the store. I don’t know why I didn’t just leave. It was some florist that I never knew existed. They had a modest arrangements of flowers outside, but nothing that stuck out to me. There was just a little man in the back behind a counter, and he could hardly see me it was so stuffed in there. The smell of cleaning fluid and plant permeated around me, and I began to calm down I think.

People began to disperse outside. I brought my hand to a soft pink-colored carnation, the edges turning red like the blood insides of a peach. I leaned in and took in the smell. Such a small thing. I felt a lot better.

 

 

 


SCENARIO. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 17th, 2011 | Author: | 1 Comment »

 

“When Cortes and his men reached the California coast in 1535, they recalled Montalvo’s account of a mythical island called California ‘at the right hand of the Indies,’ ruled by beautiful black women.”

-From the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County

 


 


GHOST. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 16th, 2011 | Author: | 1 Comment »

 

My boss:

“You are

so white

that you suck the blackness from

any black  person

around you.

You are

like a

white

hole.”

 

 


PUNCTURE. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 15th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

 

I’ll CCCcccccc-ccc-see

if EYE [strikemark_<del>proc = if I

can take <3232> ref: a stab

at thi[href = proceed]s[!}


TRANSLATOR. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 14th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

I talked to a friend recently who said that if she was asked as a child what superpower she’d want, she’d say to be able to know every language so she could speak to anybody.

If I could choose a superpower, I’d choose to be able to time travel. That way I could tell my stupid ass friend to pick a better superpower since everybody’s going to know English anyway.

 

 


ADDRESS. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 13th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

Issues I’d Like to Address

Today a friend drew my attention to an amazing story in the news about one woman’s face transplant, needed after a chimpanzee attack. This chimp that had torn off her face and hands, torn out her eyes, and blinded her. I just want to known who is still trying to keep these things as pets. How many attacks does to take for someone to realize maybe it isn’t a good idea to coop an extremely smart, strong, and feral creature in a little box and make it use the toilet? Haven’t people heard this before? Every third This American Life seems to be about trying to domesticate a chimpanzee. This is what I don’t understand.

So we’ve heard that nuts and yogurt are good for you, and have been proven to help with weight control and even weight loss over a few years. Both of them help keep your metabolism going overnight if eaten before bedtime, as well, further aiding in weight control. And yet, nuts and some yogurt are full of calories. I mean, packed. You have a handful of peanuts, and bam, 200 calories. How do you reconcile these things? Especially since it’s also been proven that less calories mean weight loss, no matter where those calories are coming from, even twinkies.

Thank you.

 


INCOMPATIBLE. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 12th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

New Dating Terminology and Definitions

Incompatible – The incomes of the two parties are too disparate for attraction to persist. Ex: “She wanted to go to the ballet, and he wanted to watch the ballet on his computer because he didn’t own a TV and ate Ramen. They were incompatible.”

Going Dutch – This is a relatively modern practice where the man pays for his date out of a sense of chivalry and cognizance of the gender pay gap. Ex: “Hey Honey, since we’re going dutch for dinner, I’ll pay for the movie tonight.” -the woman

Bind date – When you forget to Google the person before your date. Ex: “Jesus, I haven’t been on a blind date since 1997. Before that I was using Lycos!”

 

 


PLAIN. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 11th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

LIST: ADULT CEREALS THAT USED TO BE KIDS’ CEREALS

Wheat Toast Crunch

%75 Dark Cocoa Puffs

Superstitious Charms

Trix (sp.)

Superfruit Loops

Honey Combover

Anne Rice Crispies


VOMIT. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 10th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

 

TV PILOT: “Throw Forward”

GENRE: Supernatural police procedural

SLOGAN: How far would you throw?

CONCEPT: After a night of drinking and a morning nursing himself on quiche lorraine, homicide detective Gary Kessler realizes that his upchuck consists not of items previously eaten, but of things he will be eating in the future. Using this knowledge, Gary is able to pinpoint his next day whereabouts by puking and locating the approximate crime scene of a murder yet to happen. As Kessler spirals deeper into an ever more dangerous case of bulimia, he must try to stop the impending murders in his own cases. In a world where crimes might be halted before they could ever occur, Throw Forward asks the question, what if you could predict the future through your vomit? 

…And how far would you throw?


SALARY. [GMT-8 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 8th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

 

Sharp edge of paper
Opening the envelope
Will never pay well


ASKING. [GMT-8 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 8th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

Kari asked Paul a question. “Why is there always some crust around the side of your mouth?” He’s told her about his skin condition before. “It’s from that thing I told you about. You already knew about that.” He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his mouth. “Thanks for noticing,” he said, glibly. “What?” she shot back. “I was just asking.”

Hector posed Theresa a thought. “I wonder if your mother would make more money if she was white.” This was a weird thing to say, thought Theresa, as Hector’s mom was white. “I don’t know. We weren’t all blessed with your varied heritage,” said Theresa, the emphasis on “varied” smothering, protecting a wound. “What?” he said. “I was just wondering.”

Jacob told Charles a joke. “But then she wouldn’t have tried to break up with you!” he said. Charles’ face dropped, and he was suddenly very disappointed in his friend. He’d had a rough day, a few drinks at the end that didn’t help. He gave Jacob a look that told him he was not happy. “Oh, don’t be a baby. I was just kidding.”

“So if you’re kidding, I shouldn’t take it seriously?” Jacob thought for a moment. “Yeah.” Charles: “And then it wouldn’t hurt.” Jacob again answered, “Yeah.” “Okay, well, you promise not to take this seriously?” Jacob shrugged. Couldn’t see the harm. “Sure.”

Charles told Jacob a joke. He promptly punched him in the face with a fist like a rock. Jacob reeled in his stool, grabbed hold of the counter to keep from falling. “What the fuck?” he yelped. “Oh, don’t be a baby,” said Charles. “I was just kidding.”

 


SCAN. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 7th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »


COMMENTARY. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 6th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »


DIAGRAM. [GMT-7 LOS ANGELES]

Posted: August 4th, 2011 | Author: | No Comments »

Greg Tully realized he really should’ve read more of the report. He’d only skimmed, beer in hand, Stewart on the TV. Only perused. Actually, he didn’t peruse, because of course peruse means the opposite of what most people think it does; it means to delve into something, it means to read it carefully. It means to do what he should’ve done. Now, he’d left himself with no idea what’s on the report, and way too much of an idea about what peruse means. Worthless, worthless, worthless.

“Go ahead, Greg,” said Craiger, sitting on the couch, relaxed in the eyes yet leaning forward intensely. “Show us. On the board there.”

Greg was standing with the marker. He’d hope his shaking was masked by the cloying, oversized blazer he made himself wear for this one meeting. Did he even hear the question right. Holy shit, what was the question? He was going to have to ask.

“…What would you like me to show?” Craiger sighed. “A chart. A diagram. Whatever it is you guys do.” Greg waited a few moments, hoping for more. When nothing came he dazedly turned back to the board. Did someone just punch him in the gut? It felt like someone just punched him in the gut.

He brought the market to the paper. First step: draw something. Draw something, draw something, draw something. His hand moved. It bent downwards, paused for a second, and wrapped around. It was a circle. He thought hard for a moment, holding the marker back, at his side.

“Excellent!” The outburst came from Craiger. “Genius!” The other men in the room looked at him, confused, but intrigued. “I knew I could count on you.” Greg stammered, “Thanks.” Craiger stood up. “All right, everyone, let’s clear out and get to work. A lot of things to do now, a lot of things to plan.” He ushered the other men on with his hands and everybody cleared out of the room. Greg wanted to follow but felt no strength in his legs. So he stood in the now peaceful room, and he gazed at his drawing alone. His circle, his solution. What was it?