I suppose I drifted off there for a bit. Life is currently taffy being pulled on a hook—sometimes I'm piled on, stuck in place and frozen between layers just right on the hook, and sometimes I'm on the stretchy bit and time slips away into distance. Something I feel I need to voice is this … Continue reading 42 V
death
Day Thirty – Quality Stock Tips From an Okapi (or, Mr. China Has Seven Splinters)
--- TRecTm5.2218.14.11.x.x Rprt -22.22.511.5.5.167.3.7.vv.20491 Earth Interplanetary Logistics and Colonization - Robotic Recon Team - Report - Assmt. 17501.R.TR73 ||\\|| BEGIN REPORT ||\\|| WRECKAGE OF ARTEMIS LANDER : MSN TtnRcn2203 : CONFIRMED ENVIRONMENT SEALS BROKEN ID OF FOUR OF FIVE TEAM MEMBERS CONFIRMED DOCTOR ABRAHAM TOLLE: DECEASED, BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA PTY OFR RAYMOND GILFREY: DECEASED, CAROTID … Continue reading Day Thirty – Quality Stock Tips From an Okapi (or, Mr. China Has Seven Splinters)
Day Twenty-Nine – Papercut Moseby’s Left Withered
There is darkness and sound--a repetitive thud and scraping of metal. I feel heat radiating around me, and I feel trapped and claustrophobic. I cannot move my body more than a few inches in any direction. There are walls surrounding me, lined with soft silk. I feel myself pressed against a cushion to my back--laying … Continue reading Day Twenty-Nine – Papercut Moseby’s Left Withered
Day Twenty-Eight – A Message Written in Mustard Beneath a Park Bench in a Secluded Spot Near the Lake Where Maddie Gantt Found the Possum With the Eye Infection
If you were to find yourself so inclined to dive into that mirror, you would likely find me halfway through that diamond maelstrom, regarding you with disdain from some reflective abode - perhaps a corner of shattered glass, an edge, a wink of light among thousands. That's what you want, and you know it - … Continue reading Day Twenty-Eight – A Message Written in Mustard Beneath a Park Bench in a Secluded Spot Near the Lake Where Maddie Gantt Found the Possum With the Eye Infection
Day Twenty-Seven – We Who Are About to Sigh, Salute You
What follows is a list of things no human knows about me. What follows are instances in the great effluvia of creation in which I have found myself directly in control of God's hand, like a golf instructor reaches around his student as their hips swing in unison. What you are about to read is … Continue reading Day Twenty-Seven – We Who Are About to Sigh, Salute You
Day Twenty-Two – All Aboard for Stenotrophomonas maltophilia and Pancakes
"Yes, Chef," Remi Grismain barks. Chef Garret departs the kitchen to attend to something in the dining room. Remi watches him go, then sighs. With the last of the tomatoes cored and skinned, the apprentice dumps them unceremoniously into a blender and sets it for purée. He takes a moment, as the tomatoes turn to … Continue reading Day Twenty-Two – All Aboard for Stenotrophomonas maltophilia and Pancakes
Day Twenty – The Last Vestiges of an Inappropriate Man
As is typically the case with events that can be considered to have changed the course of history, through intense and diligent research, and by deconstructing the progression of individual tributaries that, as a whole, make up the entirety of the catastrophic or productive event in question, one can trace the series of cause and … Continue reading Day Twenty – The Last Vestiges of an Inappropriate Man
Day Nineteen – Andrew Lost His Keys While George is Engulfed in Flames
On the third day, the grand and omnipotent entity known as Va'alamyr walked the grounds of his creation. He reveled in the squeakiness of the wet grass beneath his bare feet. He turned his eyes to the blinding sun he had created two days earlier and saw that it was good. The trees were coming … Continue reading Day Nineteen – Andrew Lost His Keys While George is Engulfed in Flames
Day Seventeen – His Most Holy Purveyor of the Remedy to My Madness
"Lift your eyes to the light above you. The cleansing god of ages descends to this mortal coil in fury, and, for our future, he brings tidings of empty joy. This ground upon which we quiver, cowering on bent knee, praying for deliverance is not ours. We came to this land, and toiled in its … Continue reading Day Seventeen – His Most Holy Purveyor of the Remedy to My Madness
Day Fifteen – A Public Apology for Events That Occurred on Easter 1993, Wolverhampton, UK
Time is running out and this is the zero hour. For you, the reader, it takes just a few seconds to make a lifetime of difference in the life of someone else, and I am politely asking you, if you are a fan of mad science, cacophony, and imminent destruction, to please donate even a … Continue reading Day Fifteen – A Public Apology for Events That Occurred on Easter 1993, Wolverhampton, UK
Day Fourteen – Counting Backwards From Zero While Drowning
Defeat. Breath stutters. Fingertips tickle snow. Just beside, a body. Not deceased, no, not yet. Depressed perhaps, and languishing in doubt. He sees his reflection in skies above. Like the stone he is, he remains patient. A spear extends from his chest, a war wound. As he breathes shallowly, he hears the sound of battle. … Continue reading Day Fourteen – Counting Backwards From Zero While Drowning
Day Eleven – Supplementary Notes on Gergot Maxim’s 352-Minute Film Entitled “Though Babies Wept and Wretches Bent” As First Orally Related to Kimberly, His Wife, Over an Excessive Third Cup of Lapsang Souchong
Andrew Offal, a businessman of some repute - ill in some circles, vague in others - had excessively high hopes for his eldest daughter. This was evidenced in the fourteen million dollars he had spent on genetic optimization while she floated oblivious to his desires in the womb. Offal had also put at least three … Continue reading Day Eleven – Supplementary Notes on Gergot Maxim’s 352-Minute Film Entitled “Though Babies Wept and Wretches Bent” As First Orally Related to Kimberly, His Wife, Over an Excessive Third Cup of Lapsang Souchong
Day Nine – Biggles Splits the Atom and Other Quaint Tales of Death
Daphne rises out of bed, leaving it still occupied as she does so, and drags her toes in graceful steps towards the bathroom. The light was left on through night, and she cannot recall if it was herself--perhaps the scotch-drunk male in her bed--who had last visited the tiled closet. She kicks a pile of … Continue reading Day Nine – Biggles Splits the Atom and Other Quaint Tales of Death
Day Eight – The Dangers of Navigating Safety Nets With Ice Skates
When I was younger, long before the trauma of being devoured whole by the swamp god who protects us had worn off, I had a disturbing dream. I remember how I was situated in my makeshift bed that night. I had found a nice mossy patch to act as a pillow as I rested my … Continue reading Day Eight – The Dangers of Navigating Safety Nets With Ice Skates
