Words that I try hard to make sound dirty.

Perloined.

Gut.

Whistle.

Drain.

Underbrush.

Underbelly.

Planetoid.

Vinegar.

Slip.

Freeze.

Gardener.

Ham.

Fidget.

Wick.

Wax.

Wobble.

Park.

Error.

Vasectomy.

The Letter.

Ink runs thin.

Ink runs dry.

A permenant smear. The golden word.

For all of time to see.

Unless lost.

At the back of the closet. Or to the fire.

I never intend to see it again.

It's for their eyes only.

Whoever they may be.

Dragon's Sweat.

The sky spins around me.

I can't stand up. I'm flying.

The room around me spins.

The past is cold, the present is painful, and the future burns on my back.

I drank from the water in the cave... It was sour. Then sweet. Then nothing at all.

The walls shudder with warmth and cold together, meeting of the mediums.

I feel death on my chest. I cry out and grab for her.

She's with me. Feeling everything and the opposite of what I feel. And I her.

Plus and Minus making Zero. The light and shadow comes.

We fall back to earth, tied to each other.

We talk but nothing is said.

All we can do is think. Remember. Relive the trip.

I cry without feeling sad.

She crawls into me and begins to sleep.

I crawl into her, and we become the dragon.

We slumber and fly again once more before the sun ends the dark, thick night.

The fog of war pours across us. A battle won and lost.

Our wax becoming hard.

We try to fly again. We fail to capture the night before between us.

We slumber again.

We sleep like the dead.

And the cycle begins once more.

Fight Night.

THE MAIN EVENT OF THE DECADE... LITERALLY.

The Hannukah Dragon VS. The Spirit of Christmas

UNDERCARD.

Kwanza VS. TBA (Nobody is as lame as Kwanza.)

Ol' Saint Nick VS. A Saint Bernard

Silent Night VS. Holy Night.

MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Childish.

You ever think-

I try not to.

...You ever think that there's more out there than this?

Of course there is, I've seen it.

You have?

Sure. I've been across the oceans and under the earth.

What about the sky?

Of course. You can't go under and across without going up at some points.

What's it like out there?

Eh. Not too different to how it is here. Just a bit less colourful and a lot more dangerous.

Dangerous? How?

There were monsters, giants, and all sorts out there. That was ages ago though... I, uh, can't say if they're there now.

Like what?

The Goroblatt. That's what I called it. It was a huge bat, with a hundred horns, and instead of legs, it had a blob.

Wow... Then how did it fly?

Oh... It took a bit to get off the ground... But when it got up there, the blob sort of went stiff and turned into a spike.

Huh. Sounds... weird.

It was. I was lucky it missed me.

What else? What about the ocean?

Millions of fish. All sorts of different colours. Even some I'd never seen before.

What else?

I discovered an island, and a whole tribe of green and black people. I taught them how to read, speak our language, and I gave them Faith in each other.

And what did they give you?

They helped me build a ship, and they gave me food, shelter, cause, y'know - I was their god for a while and all that...

Hm. And the sky?

Outside of the horizon, there are men who fly in huge iron birds - Giant condors, Massive crows, and one even had a loud hummingbird that ran on garbage.

Wow...

Yup. It's a wild and wonderful world out there, Sammo. We just have to get away from it all occasionally.

How did you get out in the first place?

Uh... It was long ago... I don't fully remember.

Oh... And why did you come back?

I... I don't know...

Because, well... This isn't a nice place, Demma. You know it, I know it. This is...

Yes, well. Even a prison can be home to people like us...

An observation.

If a movie or series is hugely successful, documentaries are made around it explaining the science or philosophy behind it.

E.g. - The Dark Knight, Avatar, Jaws

Why does this happen?

1 - Cashcow. The makers hope to chime in on the success.

2 - Curiosity. People want to know about the reality of the situation.

Reason 1 is as old as the printed work or the birth of the moving picture.

To reason 2, I say this...

FUCK. THAT.

I don't watch a movie to think "Oh? How did these people make up the language on Pandora?" or "I wonder what motivates The Joker..."

It's fantasy. Fiction. You don't have to dissect something to enjoy it.

That's why reality T.V. is strong, and why people don't really enjoy T.V. drama and comedy anymore - They've been overexposed to reality.

T.V. is a way of escaping reality! Like books and radio. Reality T.V. was fine and dandy for a while, but it just becomes a background to civilisation and a show of how utterly awful life truly is! You'll never be famous, or experience things such as this!

You. Are. Dead.

Dead from the neck up! You switch on and tune out. whatever happened to imagination?! It's all cookie cutters and plastic fantastic. People don't give a shit anymore.

Radio plays... Sci-fi... All dying - because the people in charge of the studios want easy money!

WORK FOR IT! Scratch! Climb! Fight!

All you'll have to go to the grave is a legacy built off of the misery and suffering of others, cast in gold.

Wake up! People of the world! Think! Imagine! Dream!

Once More Into the Shadows, We Find a Young Man Crying.

Haah... Huh...

Fucking... God!

I can't take this... It's too much.

Too soon.

...

Whatever happened to me? To my life?

Fuck my life!

Urrgh.

All it was... It was that girl... And the guy.

They did this to me...

...

I was... I was happy.

...

Adrian?

Hm? Excuse me?

You're Adrian?

Yes. Who are you?

I'm Mallory. I'm sorry, I've only heard about you from Kendra.

Oh! You're one of her friends?

Yes.

Pleasure to meet you then... But I've got to ask...

Yes?

If you've only heard about me, how did you know who I was?

...A fair point. I've seen some pictures.

Ah. So how do you know her?

Mind if I sit down?

Oh, god, yes. Of course, sorry.

Nah, it doesn't matter. I did kind of startle you. And to answer your question, we're friends through work.

Ah...

Do you know much about what she does?

No actually... I asked her a few times before and she glazed over the question.

I see. Would you like to know?

...Yes.

She's in personel relations.

...Which is?

A manager, basically.

Ah. Sorry, again... But why are you telling me all this?

Well... In her line of work... Our line. There are some... Risks.

Like?

Well... Getting shot at. A lot.

...Am I being punked?

No. I'm sorry. She's missing and we wondered if you knew where she was. Last I saw of her personally was her taking a bullet to the chest.

...You what?

Did she say anything to you? Has she been in contact with you?

I think I have to go...

[I wouldn't do that, sir.]

Max, stand down.

Who the hell are-

[I am Max. Do not be alarmed. I currently have a silenced pistol aimed at the lower portion of your spine]

...What?

You heard him. All we want to know is if Kenda Jerode has been in contact with you in the past week.

Jerode? Her name was Hall!

To you, maybe.

And no as a matter of fact, she hasn't.

Oh...

[We must go]

You realise as soon as you go... I'm calling the police.

[And you will be arrested for wasting police time. Mallory]

Right. Goodbye Adrian. You won't see us again.

...

...

Those two...

My life...

I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Just you wait.

Harmonics.

*PHROREEN! VREE-VREE!*

Good God! What are you doing, Joyce?

Nothing... Just me and my harmonica.

Well... Stop it... It's scaring the birds...

We don't have any birds...

I mean the pidgeons on the roof... When they get scared, things turn white and yellow.

Oh. Well, I have to practice. I have a concert on Friday.

A concert?! Where?!

Leonard's coffee place. He's doing an open music and poetry night.

But you can't play a damn thing!

Playing something doesn't make it music, Don. You can make noise and it could be a song of the soul.

Eddie... Have you been sniffing glue again?

No! I've just been out with some people that Leonard knows from University...

Students... that frequent a coffee shop...

Yeah. What's wrong with that?

HIPSTERS.

For god's sake...

They. Are. Hipsters! You're too easily swayed by the wrong people!

They're a good bunch of people!

What are their names?!

...Cody, Zach, Miriam and Cassie.

Which one do you like?

...Miriam.

She hot?

I like her for her mind...

Give me your phone.

No!

Fine, I'm going to check your facebook!

Wait!

...

Yes... She's smoking hot. But smart too.

I get it.

They're going to help me practice, and we're going to put together a group. Cassie plays bass, and Zach can drum pretty well.

Uh-huh...

And we'll make records out of Cody's studio. It's in his van... But it's all good.

Get in your box, Edward Joyce.

...No...

Get. In. Your. Box.

...Can I take the harmonica?

100.

What have I learnt from 100 posts?

I can't write prose text on the fly.

I have real trouble producing coheasive stories if I haven't really thought it out. If it comes from a pre-existing idea, I'm fine though.

I like to haiku. It's really ridiculous. How much I like it.

I can produce some awesome fantasy stories. Especially for the right people...

And I can't stick a full week now. It's odd - daily became frequesntly quickly. I will endeavour to do a full week now and again, more often than not.

I just plain enjoy writing.

Entry 16. Cardinal, TX. "Skipper".

22/03

I talked to Candice Starr (Real name: Candice Staroski) about the "Incident" In '87.

She looked tired. Worn down and out. We sat in the back room of "The Free Letter Word", the club that promises "The cheapest action in Cardinal, TX!".

CS: As soon as you said about the diner... I knew what you wanted. Plus, you don't look like the type of guy who normally comes in here.

FV: I try. Now, for the record, how old were you back then?

CS: It's rude to ask a lady her age... But since this is for the "You know who", I was 28.

FV: You don't look a day over 35.

CS: Flatterer...

FV: No, I'm serious. You really don't.

CS: Oh. Hm. You're right of course. We all changed that night.

FV: You're still in contact with the others?

CS: Oh yeah... I talk with Joanie and Kal a lot, by phone. Sometimes Jerry pays a visit...

FV: Jerry Holland? The changing man?

CS: Is that what you call him? ...I call him slime. Always comes in here, oozing with sweat, asking to spend some "Quality time" with me. He has to pay like every other guy, I always tell him... Poor schmoe never has any money though.

FV: And what about Joan and Kaleb?

CS: They live in Maine. Quiet little place. If I ever get out of this town, I'm going there.

FV: What's stopping you?

CS: I'm good at what I do. Harry, my boss hasn't realised yet that I've been here for 32 years. Not the type of guy to look over records too often... Or file his taxes correctly. Can we... Uh... "Strike that from the record"? I don't want him to get in trouble...

FV: We have no relation to the IRS, Candice. He's not going to be in any trouble.

CS: Good. That's a relief.

FV: Did the other two... Develop, as you and Jerry did?

CS: You mean did weird shit come out of them too? Yeah... They went through it, we all did, so they said. 

FV: I meant the after effects of exposure.

CS: Oh, right. Sorry Hon'. You didn't ask them yourself?

FV: They weren't... Open with the information. They just said "Yes." and left it at that.

CS: Hell, If I'd have known that, I'd have been more careful.

FV: It's noticeable on you. I'd be an idiot not to see it.

CS: Hmph. Well, yes they did get... aftereffects. Joanie can read minds if she touches you. Kaleb... Well, I'm not sure about him.

FV: I see. 

CS: I've got a theory though.

FV: Go on.

CS: It's... Personal. I can't think of the word. Like depending on who you were at the time and all that shit... 

FV: Subjective?

CS: Yes! That's it. Subjective. Like Jerry was a con-man, still is from what I can see. Always pretending to be someone he wasn't.

FV: I see.

CS: And Joanie? Well, before she was trying to see why her boyfrie-

FV: What about you?

CS: ...Me?

FV: Sorry to interrupt. I need to keep this about you.

CS: Nobody ever cared enough to hear my story...

FV: Just the particulars, please.

CS: ...I wanted to live forever. Be worshipped. Be loved. I wanted to be an actress, I stopped at the diner to call my "Agent" and tell him I was on the way down to California for an audition.

FV: And it happened.

CS: Yeah... Of course, that isn't when it happened.

FV: Sorry?

CS: The sleezeball agent? He told me the audition was in "Silicon Valley".

FV: ...

CS: Oh boy. It's the name for the then small porn company. Now it's a huge place, hence the name.

FV: I see...

CS: I didn't want to be that kind of actress. I wanted to be in movies. I went out to my car and cried... And there he was...

FV: Who?

CS: Sam.

FV: Sam?

CS: Sam... Sam Albright. Slip of a boy. Just 18, so he said. He asked what was wrong and... We talked and... You know...

FV: I can guess.

CS: He was wonderful... Not a virgin by any stretch of the word. He knew how to treat a lady...

FV: Did it happen after that?

CS: During... 

FV: ...

CS: All we saw were the bright lights and the smell of burning rubber and wood. When I woke up... I was in the hospital, and Sam was gone. 

FV: He isn't on my list.

CS: But you know about us... What we can do and how we know each other.

FV: Yes. A dozen minds pushed together for god knows what reason and put back.

CS: I can feel him... Just now and then. He blinks onto the map and gone again before I can figure out where to turn.

FV: I see... 

CS: But he'd never find me again. I'm too old now... No matter how I look. And he wasn't the type of guy to come here either...

FV: Then why stay?

CS: It's all I know. And I'm useful to Harry. I can't get pregnant.

FV: We got reports of sterility from the others, some of them at least. It's not normal but... I'm sorry.

CS: No... I can't be pregnant... I have been for years now. Must be around... 3 months, if I've worked it out right.

FV: ...That's... That's incredible.

CS: Mhm... That's our child in here... Mine and Sam's. We made a miracle... When it felt like the end of the world.

I left after that. Candice is good at what she does. But for how much longer?

And this "Sam" - skipping all over the world... I'll have to remember him.

And I'll have to look after his baby. The baby AND Candice of course. Requesting a welfare check to come out of the Marrow Fund. God knows she needs all the help she can get.

End Log.

My Pledge to You.

I swear to always be true.

I swear to be there for you when you need me.

I swear to put aside my work and listen to you talk about your day.

I swear to help you wherever I can with all of my body and soul.

I swear to satisfy your every need, whim and desire.

I swear to never complain in the face of bad times and punishments.

I swear to defend and honour you.

I swear to provide for you at all times.

I swear I will never keep a secret from you.

And I swear, should you ask me to, to break any of those rules.

I love you.

Following the River...

The Rat and Mole was nice...

Yes...

Nothing changes... Every year we go in there and it's the same old faces behind and at the bar.

True... But that isn't a bad thing is it?

No! Not at all...

Hm.

And now, this. This was a good idea, babe.

I do try, love. I love boating, and I'm surprised we've never done this before...

And what a day to do it. Perfect. Sunny blue skies...

Yeah...

Shame Angus could join us... Wonder what was wrong...

Yes... He sounded quite far gone.

How do you mean?

Just sounded off, that's all.

Ah. Don't think it's *The* flu, do you?

Nah... He's too careful.

You think?

I've known him all my life... He's a stickler for hospital corners and the like...

Ah. Strange.

What is?

Why is he going out with Gerogie then?

Cause she's the opposite - you know how that is. Magnetic.

True... Though we're not like that...

That IS true...

Hm...

Where has the time gone?

Is it late?

No... I meant between us. It seems like yesterday when we met...

Heh. I remember it too.

We've just... flown along.

Flown? As in flying?

Yeah...

What makes you say that?

I know, Tom.

...About what?

I saw you.

...I'm not going to be able to get out of this one, am I?

Not unless you fly.

Keep your voice down.

Or what?

...Alright, yes. I can fly, what of it?

Nothing... Just you kept such a HUGE FUCKING SECRET from me!

I'm not proud of it...

Why not? Isn't it wonderful?

No! It's a means to an end! I get sick from the rush of adrenalin and oxygen! I get bugs in my eyes! I-

Goggles.

Huh?

Get some goggles, silly.

Ones that DON'T crack for atmospheric pressure? Those are expensive...

Then don't fly so high!

And risk being seen? Do you know what people would do to me?

Well... No.

Exactly. I'm sorry I kept it from you but it was for both of our sakes.

Hm...

And I suppose you've been honest with me?

Yes!

Fully?

...Yes.

Ah?! I sense hesitation.

Well... We have to have some secrets, and being able to fly isn't even on the level of what I keep from you.

Quid pro quo.

I don't have anything even like-

Anything.

...I like being spanked.

I know that one...

Fine! ...I once gave a blowjob to a 32 year old man.

That's not so... How old were you?

14.

Ah... Alright, we're even.

Aren't you-

Nope. I'm not even going to ask. Asking questions leads to answers I don't need to hear.

...

...

Here comes the dock.

Hm. We should-

Yeah.

What Will It Take?

Imagine if someone showed up at your door. All this person, always female, has with them is a suitcase and a smile. It's a man's world. Women aren't stupid enough for this type of situation.

"Hi!" they say. "You once asked for a girlfriend, a lover, a wife?"

Now, every guy at some point has been in this position. They hit rock bottom and the only way up is carnal. Some try to say it's "Emotional companionship", but really... They need to get laid.

Anyway, You can't shut the door on this person, and if you try, they're either already inside or they stick their foot in the door. They're your guest.

They come on strong. They seem perfect, or caustic enough to make you hot and bothered. Either way, you're reacting - the blood boils, the pulse quickens, pupils dilate, and in a good few cases, you get wood.

They ask to stick around for a while, offer to pay rent, help out, clean up - and if you still refuse, they skip ahead of their gameplans.

If you're "Happy" with them being a part of your world, it starts.

You get along. You start to know each other inside and out. You have fun.

You don't get on. Tensions rise, inconveniant misunderstandings, walk-ins. You're getting warmer, hotter.

They don't leave. They go out, sure - out to work, out to get groceries, out to get... other things. But they never leave fully. Even after they said they'd be gone after 2 weeks, 3 weeks. But they DO go out for hours at a time.

You like her. You worry she's being fucked in some alley, or being piledriven by multiple suitors who she met at some bar. Hell, you just worry she's been hit by a car.

You don't like her. You start to hate the silence. You miss them. You miss the conversation, as well as the arguements. You worry just as much as the last guy.

But she always comes back. Alone. Tired, or even strangely refreshed.

You grow together. She sells you some sob story about being fucked by Uncle Charlie, or being a drifter, going from town to town. She stopped drifting, or running, because she likes you. She's fallen for you.

You cry. You both cry. You hug. For hours. And then you kiss.

You feel pity. Sorrow. Maybe something bad happened to you as well. A kindred spirit. In need of comfort. You kiss.

No matter how you felt before, you don't feel anything.

You're in too deep. You're in the embrace. Bodies fused. Fluids mix. Cries in tune. You feel everything and nothing but each other. It goes for hours, even days. You change positions in scale and grandeur. You become the other. And then back to Earth.

Too deep.

After that, nothing changes, but so many things do.

She goes out for longer. You worry more. She comes home looking ruffled or disheveled. Blood under her fingernails as you suck on them. Dirt in her hair as you smell it. A growl in her voice as you bite her, and she bites you.

She changes the house. Whole rooms move in a night. She has so much energy at night, or after carnal affairs. You can't help but like the change. But whole rooms are left empty, nothing but the carpet and something you've never seen before in the centre of the room. Some kind of statue.

the embrace becomes dangerous. She likes to tie you up. Cut you. Her screams become... primal. Yours do too. She chains you to the wall, milking you dry. It's... Incredible. There's nothing like it. On Earth. You often black out, later waking to bitemarks and fingernail marks all over your body. You're drained.

So tired. You start to resent her. You try to ask her to slow down. But she either doesn't listen or just flat out scares you. She smiles all the time. You never noticed until now, when you're looking for fault. She just agrees with you... and nothing changes.

She starts staring at the moon, from the garden. Just stood there looking at it like some sort of mirror.

A dark reflection.

And nothing changes. You wait for anything to happen. You don't need to work, she brings in the money, you just wait. Wait for the boom to drop. Nothing changes. You just wait.

Always waiting. You know she isn't human. You piece it together. Succubus. Siren. Demon. Anything you know gets thrown in. But it's the smile... the moon... the screams... the tormented and twisted statue she ritualisticly cleans. It's almost phallic, and worshipped. Like you.

You wait for her to snap. For her to go full evil and tell you what she is. But she never does. You live. It's the worst torture. Death is better. You just wait, and eat, and sleep, and fuck. You never leave, you're in too deep. Too damn deep for anyone to save you.

You never know when it'll happen, and that's just as bad as waiting and living.

It just smiles. And loves you. And the moon. And the statue.

I... Love her. I think.

Like she loves the moon.

Always staring.

Waiting.

Were you expecting a post?

God no... Just be happy like this big fella. Maybe I'm having an off week for poor writing. See ya!

The Crapsack Was Taken!

Hey, Joey?

Yeah.

I've got a load of, like, vegetable waste and that to toss out, is there anywhere special I should put it?

Oh, yeah, just sling it in the cornhole.

Right.

...

...

What?

What's wrong?

What's the cornhole?

Oh, right. That white china thing in the kitchen, we use it for organic waste.

Okay... But why is it called the cornhole?

First thing we put into it was a shit load of corn. We brought a sack of the stuff, don't remember why, maybe popcorn? Anyway, we had it all left over and there was a huge mess. So we got the cornhole for future emergencies, and to make our own compost.

We live in the city... Why do you need compost?

You never know when you'll need compost.

Right. Fine. Whatever. Is there anything else camply named I should know about?

Uh... Oh! There's the poopchute.

And what's that?

My ass. You got your half of the rent yet?