Saturday, September 29, 2007

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I had a dream about a whole new group of protesters. They dress up in British wigs and Revolutionary War era jackets. What did they protest? The most ridiculous things. RELEASE MAD MAX ON DVD! They were screaming it. Some of them just had ads oe people's home phone numbers. They were a huge problem, as they would show up at all sorts of public events and cause mischief. They were pretty awesome, if you ask me. They threw a fire extinguisher at a fire truck for no reason and when it bounced, a fireman tried to kick it back and hurt his foot. Which, for some reason, made me wake up laughing,

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Today was the homecoming dance.

I never went to dances. I was one of those wannabe burnout kids who only wanted to hear Slayer or The Misfits.

If you're into music like that, you are just about admitting that you don't want to get laid.

It was still fun to see the young adults, what a silly word, line up next to the gazeebo with their fancy cars. I'm sure they have life all figured out. Maybe I should ask them for advice.

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I had a dream that I was in a nightclub under the city, like the places the Beatles played in Germany or a place Rick in Caslabanca might own. Loud, banging, clanging world music played as I ate a burrito that tastes like honey and chocolate. They told me to eat fast, as the police could arrive at any moment. They did. Everyone ran but me, because that burrito tastes so good. I was hit with clubs and ran into the street, realizing I was in front of my old church.

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Friday, September 28, 2007

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My goal is to always wear an outfit like Daft Punk. I want to be a robot.

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Salt used to be expensive and used only for medicine. Spilling it was a sin.It could also be considered bad because Judas spilled the salt during the Last Supper. He did a lot of other dumb shit that night, too.

So why do we throw it over our left shoulder when we spill it? Because the left side is evil. Evil spirits are on our left side, so if we throw it there, it gets in their eyes.

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I love wearing jeans. I mean, I'd rather wear shorts.

But I do love wearing jeans. They make me feel better about myself.

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The only thing leaves are good for is being raked into piles and jumped into.

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Someday, the ocean and the desert will wise up.

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I hate cleaing bottles from parties. I'm the kind of person who drinks every last sip from a bottle. I hate when I find a half empty bottle of beer. Do you know how many times I wanted a beer, was dying for a beer, and the person who drank this wasted it?

Here's to people who drink the whole beer.

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Thursday, September 27, 2007

An Important Announcement

Next week is the first theme week on this blog.

Yes, next week, If, Then, What becomes If, Then, Bock Bock. That’s right. It’s Chicken Week. Fried, raw, frozen, pictures of chicken, playing chicken, being chicken, what came first – the chicken or the egg, eggs, rubber chickens…it’s open season on chickens.

It’s a challenge. Can I write about nothing but chickens for a whole week? How many pictures of chickens can you take?

We’ll find out! Starts Monday!
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Black top

Radio waves

Wind in my hair

150 miles to go.

Rush of energy

Hands on the wheel

Singing loud

Stella barks along.

We are the road warriors.

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I have had hair this long since I was a little boy.

I wish I had a beard then.

I almost wrote, I wish I had a bear then.

I also wish I had a bear now.

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You know that song "Blinded by the Light?"

The real lyrics are
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night

I always thought they were
Blinded by the light,
ripped up like a douche
and thrown out in the night.

I guess I was wrong.

I also realized I used the same pic twice in a row. But I had this in my head.

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Wednesday, September 26, 2007

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Can you imagine a world without lightbulbs?

It used to be.

What is left to invent?

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As intimidating as a ten pound cat with no claws can be, he does his best.

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The skyline has changed as the building fell. Soon, no one would remember what was here. A building was. It seems like only a few people are left to remember when things get destroyed that something once lived there.

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Sunday is the last mass at my old church.

It is where I was baptized. Had my first confession and communion. My dad made all of the art inside it. He handed out communion here. And now, everything holy will be taken out and it will become just a building. Once the holy is removed, that's it. Can you do that? Just remove the God from a building?

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Every morning, he watches the traffic. He loves it. He waits for us to come back home.

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Tuesday, September 25, 2007

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I hate when spider webs get destroyed.

I have seen so many this week. Maybe I am just on the look for them. Maybe the spiders know that its almost Halloween.

Who knows?

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In the cemetary are the bodies of the steelworkers who died in the Battle of Homestead. Violent union battles in the late 1800s. Here they rot, surrounded by ice cream shops and convenient stores.

And no one knows.

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They used to say put a tiger in your tank.

They used to also clean your window and check your oil.

The world is too fast and doesn't want to help you at all.

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Monday, September 24, 2007

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I love light through curtains.

I love sleeping in late.

Playing hooky.

Laying on the couch when I should be at work.

It is the best.

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Shadow boxes.

This church has them outside.

I wonder what is inside?

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Sounds you never heard.

I have tried to get this radio station to work.

It does not exist.

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My uncle used to tell this story.

Every day, a guy came home from work and brought a brick in his lunchbox. It wasn't really stealing. He just took one brick. When he retired, he used all of the bricks to build a house. When he was done, he had one brick left. He threw it over his shoulder.

He also used to tell this story.

A man, a woman and her dog were in a car. The man was smoking a cigar and she asked him to put it out. He refused, saying her dog smelled worse. She took his cigar and threw it out the window. He took her dog and threw it out the window. She screamed for him to stop. They waited for the dog. When the dog got there, he had the last brick in his mouth.

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My brother and I used to get to church late. We would stand on these steps and listen, sneak in for communion, then leave.

It was church from behind a door. We could hear, but we could see.

If that isn't faith, what is?

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Sunday, September 23, 2007

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These four beers can cause such mischief.

They make tongues much looser than they should be.

They make things that should not be said easier to say. Even when they, again, should not be said.

Be on the lookout for these four beers.

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Saturday, September 22, 2007

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I feel like I got a lot of miles on me. But I will still let you kick my tires.

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Irony. You have made bitches of us all.

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Friday, September 21, 2007

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I opened the bible to a page hoping to get a sign.

Nope, no sign.

Maybe that's a sign.

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Every time I see Robot Roundup, I imagine a rodeo of robos.

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The railroads are all closed. Too bad, because we'd make awesome hoboes.

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Ordinary Life Does Not Interest Me

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Around the monitor are these sayings:

When things go wrong don't go with them.

Your smile makes everyone realize that the world is a lovely and beautiful place.

For insight on any quandry turn to the people with firsthand experience.

This could be an almost perfect day enjoy it.

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Every time she drives home, she sees this. And wonders, who made it? How long did it take to make? Why?

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There's a fountain that I can't find but I can see from my balcony.

Someday, I want to jump in a fountain and dance.

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Thursday, September 20, 2007

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These are the books I was given to read.

Not the best light reading before bed.

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No matter what your fear, in a hotel room, those Gideons got you covered.

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In my hotel room, I was half awake and dreaming. This painting reminded me of the Arabian Nights in Sandman. It was moving, I thought it had layers, like a cel from a cartoon, and people were living inside it. The painting seemed like it should champion sleep, but here I was, staring at the clock at 2 AM in an umfamiliar bed, sleeping alone.

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Tuesday, September 18, 2007

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Unfamiliar city greets me without question.

Hello, new city.

You feel nice.

I hope I never get sick of your newness.

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The longest time in your life is when you taxi down a runway and can't take off your seatbelt.

I wish I could bottle that time for when I need it.

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At night, I want to just plant roots here. Just sit down and watch the sun set.

It's such a long haul when all you want to do is nap.

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In another dimension, I'm a rockstar. I'm passed out in the back of the bus. You? You're passed out somewhere in the front of the bus. We're on our way to Tulsa, where the religious peoples are up in arms over the inherent themes of free will in our music. Join me now in drug addled slumber, why don't you? Rock and roll.

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From 14 to 24, I spent my holidays here.

From Thanksgiving to Christmas, every weekend was here.

I was part of a play, but it wasn't really a play. It was a celebration of the holiday and it meant more to me than any church. It was a recreation of a boar's head dinner, where the king would send his greatest hunter into the woods to kill the deadly boar and then, all the townspeople would be invited to a giant dinner.

I watched kids grow up into their roles. I was a wassail for the first part. We would come running out and jump around, kiss ladies, shake hands and sing loudly. It was so much fun. Then, later, I was a shepherd for the second part of the play, which showed the first day in the life of Jesus.

I stared at this painting of Jesus until I memorized every single stroke. I'd stand on that altar, covered in pancake makeup. I was one of the only Catholic boys, but I never felt like I did not belong. In fact, in those moments, I felt closer to God than I ever would again.

When I stopped being in the play, Christmas stopped meaning so much. I missed the nights of makeup and cleaning my skin with the bracing cleanser, walking into the cold night and feeling like I actually did something good for the world during the holiday. I did more than buy gifts or open wrapping paper. I tried to show people something.

Every night, I would draw for all the kids. They would ask for anything and I would try and draw it. I drew so many Power Rangers, so many X-Men. It helped me be a better person, too, helping these kids. And talking to old people. Talking to people so much older than me is a passion of mine. I learned about my town and about God from these people.

There was always such a rush to come back home in October for when practices would start. And now, there is an emptiness that I never really sat down and examined. When I saw the church this morning, it reminded me.

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Above the parkway, there is a shrine where every day, people pray for the souls of drivers. Each day, they make their way there so that the road remains safe. I think of them each time my wheels move across the blacktop.

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Monday, September 17, 2007

You'll understand

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I have zombie preparation plans.

Everywhere I live, I have had them. When I first move in, I scope my house. Are there enough exits? Can I easily get in and out of the cellar? How many windows are at ground level?

My current house? Quite zombie proof. I made sure of it. I'm ready for them, trust me.

Scoff all you want. When hell is full, the dead will walk the earth and you will all be like, "Oh, Sam, I should have listened."

Yes, you should have listened. Because now, flesh eaters are going "Ahh" and "Uhh." And look at you, you were all like, "Sam lives in movie world." Well, yes, I do. Just because I find sniper scenes in movies fake, because the hyperbolic pressure of a sniper bullet wouldn't just make a little hole but tear a person apart, look, I trust what I see in some movies.

To answer, yes, I have a zombie plan. I know that N does as well. You have to be serious. We will not share these plans. Very few people will be saved or clued in. Actually, if you are reading this and say, I want to be clued in, you haven't been clued in. You're meat for the undead, sorry.

Man, I want to tell you all about where my apocalyptic base is. I plan on slowly moving it. It's great because there are bridges I have to dynamite, so I get to live out several dreams. Blowing up a bridge. Shooting numerous zombies in the face. Driving a car off a ramp. I don't know why I have to drive a car off a ramp. Indulge me that much. I mean, you have followed me this far. I assume at some point, we will have to throw someone through a window, as well.

Let's sum it up.

Soon, very soon, something will happen that will cause the newly dead to come back to life.

I recommend sawed off shotguns and chainsaws. We better start saving our money now.

If you don't like canned vegetables, well, it might not be so fun for you.

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Goats get a bad name because they are ornery and like to eat everything. They are generally depecting eating cans. In truth, they eat the glue and label off the cans. My friend has many goats and they all have names. They all chill out and listen to old black metal outside his barn. He treats his goats like I treat my cats.

I think I would like a goat of my own someday.

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Fujiyama Mama

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love like an atom bomb. tick tick tick boom. they say mushroom clouds are quite beautiful from far away. the light filters through the particle dust. and it looks like day break in the middle of the night. world shaking, life changing, exquisite destruction. sometimes you have to tear everything away to get to the heart of the matter.

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Sunday, September 16, 2007

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Can frames in and of themselves be art?

I believe so.

They hold art like a man would hug a beautiful woman.

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My grandmother has had a concrete donkey in front of her house for years. It's been painted all sorts of colors. I think for a time, it may have even been red white and blue. I'm not sure what color it is now. However, this donkey? He doesn't want painted.

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I feel like we are living in the era of revelations. Changes in pattern, changes in thought, changes in how we feel, changes in the weather.

My house is cold, my feet are cold.

I snuggle them under an envelope of covers.

Warmth is so far away, at times.

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Buddha was $2.50. But he is worth more. Especially with a fresh coat of paint.

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You see it as urban blight.

I have found the beauty in it.

There is art in rust, in smoke, in dirt and in filth.

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