Sunday, December 26, 2010

Krismis, the after-shock

Lazy zig zag wispy flake crystals float past it on the sill. Glazed, drunk eyes enveloped in ennui track their progress. Bejeweled, bespeckled, beturkey-jizzumed, the formerly white mat of cloth rests like a dead cat atop the wooded, ancient table. Lynn dozes on the maroon leather couch. She clutches a frosty Yuengling in her mighty paws as the dogs attempt to rouse the ursine madre in our den. A trickle of the amber juice slides out of the corner of her mouth as a chuckle escapes from mine.
"Fuck!" I scream.
Lynn immediately and emphatically proclaims her consciousness. I walk away. Dumb found Id.

Krismis

-Clothes
-Boots
-I feel it in my fingers, feel it in my toes...
-Coffee card
-iTunes card
-Beer
-Sweaters
-Chitchat
-Foodfam
-Wax
-Race
-Gnarl Backnug
-Jingle
-Frack
-Boot
-Whistle mank
-Ruck
-Tankars
-March on the horizon, January and February too.

Thanks

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Two wild boars reported rising stock rat(capital)es from three suspected men


At the station:

I’ve dangled my boots upside down every day before I’ve walked into my house this week. It has been quite windy out. Danger: we’re fucking finally here at finals so what do you have? Orgo, chem, bio, french? What, Perry? (Aside?: Make it quick, you're not welcome here.) You have two boots of mine stuck to your face. Thief? Nope, because after dinner my professor said we live in “a schizophrenic world.” She’s a real piece of work that one(in the most neutral way). Yeah, I would say nine times out of ten someone is going to work, but heck that’s no business of mine.
On to the news:

Today we Snowshot. Snowshooting is a new activity I made, consisting of punching snowballs and then immediately shooting them with lead bullets. Four candles have been accidentally punched in the process. Mmmmmm, oh yes, the practice is quite outdated by now.

What are they reporting in the orchards?

Yes, good morning everyone. I’ll remember this week for at least 3 days after this week. I’m living a life, I guess. The fruits don’t yet exist, but we’re expecting them to come in the next millennium. Yep, what a sight that'll be. O golly...

Now to the aquarium?(Aside: Did we give him something to report on?)

Oh, am I on? Uh, does that means yes? Uh yeah, there was a pretty good whale watch a couple of miles from here today. I'm not sure why i've been sent to the aquarium, but i'm told there will be copious amounts of donuts after I finish up. My mom never seems to buy me donuts because I keep losing these news jobs, but i'm just like "Fuck you mom!" and she's like "Yeah...no". Our relationship is strained. Well, hey guys my friend Mike is having people over tonight if any of you guys in Scarsdale wanna come over (insert embarrassed muffled laugh from aquarium goers). The addy is 33 Beingaudited. Just pass the sign we're gonna put up, it's down stairs in the basement. Seriously guys, no one came last time.



Thanks everyone for joining us. This has been Disorder(?) news station reporting to you for 350 wonderful seconds. Kisses.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

The Fan

idly, it sits. Lodged beneath its flimsy base is a thick book on European politics--something I took from a brother at a frat house last year. Books are the leaves of the tree of a semester. If a semester's a season, all the books must be shed. Seekers of homes for the bound bastards are like sexing rabbits. fruitful. And the shedding of a season's syllabi is what lead to the awkward angle at which my fan sits. the fan is in disuse. dormant. directed toward my face though. a crooked pentagram of wings sprouts from the dusty nucleus of oil and molten synthetic material. When the fuck will this fan be turned on again. I have no clue. How the fuck does it feel. A coiled, silver-buckled cinturĂ³n rests on a bed of books near the white, caged frame. I fear its asphyxiating powers. Wrap it around a lung, however and you get air. Unbuckle, rinse, repeat. This synthetic pump. I gaze at the arterial chords and the house is alive. It'll be gone before I fin