The Visitation
[Begin Act I]
[Begin Scene I]
[The guests and family are viewing the casket of the boy who died, Alex. His best friend,
David, is sitting off to the left beside a window waiting for everyone to leave so he can
say his final goodbyes. Alex's mother sits beside David.]
Amy: I am so sorry, David. Alex was a great guy, and it won't be the same seeing you
without him following right behind you. If you need someone to talk to, give me
a call.
David: [Wryly] Thanks, Amy. Thanks for coming.
[Amy approaches the casket to pay her respcts to Alex.]
Mrs. Ashcroft: It's a very lovely service, David. We are so sorry for your loss.
Coach Ashcroft: Indeed, Margaret. And David, you know where my office is if you need
a buddy, got it? You don't have to go through this alone. We're a team, remember?
David: Thanks coach, Mrs. Ashcroft. [Smiles slightly and then looks away out the window]
[Coach and Mrs. Ashcroft approach the casket]
Ms. Fauré: [Discretely pointing and whispering] Oh, David! There's that Alison Frank! Alex
always did fancy her. [Smiling] Isn't she pretty?
David: Yeah, she's very pretty, Mrs. Fauré.
Mrs. Fauré: Alex always liked Alison - as long as I can remember. When they were in first
grade, he used to pull her hair and call her "pig face". It was love at first sight I think.
June: [To Mrs. Fauré] Deborah, I am so sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do?
Mrs. Fauré: June, thanks so much for coming. I'll be ok. Thank you so much for asking.
[Patting June's hands and smiling]
June: Well, it's the least we can do...
Ward: Yes, Deborah. After June lost her dad last winter we were so grateful for the wonderful
support from you and your family. If there's anything we can do, please, don't hesitate
to ask. [Leans over and sympathetically rubs Mrs. Fauré's shoulder]
Mrs. Fauré: Oh, don't worry about me. It makes the house a bit smaller, but things will work
out. They always have a way of doing that.
[Ward and June nod in agreement as they walk to the casket to pay their respects]
[Sighing] What awful people.
David: Aww, they were nice. How can you say that?
Mrs. Fauré: Oh, please. You want to know what kind of 'support' we gave them when June's
dad died?
David: [Shrugging]
Mrs. Fauré: We sent them a gift box of sausages and cheese.
David: [Laughing] Really?
Mrs. Fauré: Completely. Now they show up everywhere. How was I supposed to know that
we were the only people making such a gesture?
David: Well, you have to see the irony in all of this?
Mrs. Fauré: I'd feel better wth peace rather than irony. I don't need anything else to remind
me of those two. Still, it was nice of them to come by even if it was a continuation of
their stalker-like habits, wasn't it?
David: Indeed.
Mrs. Fauré: [Standing] Ok, this is it. This is the moment I was avoiding.
David: You mean you're not going to hide here in the corner with me anymore?
Mrs. Fauré:I'm sorry, David, but I have a son to grieve over now. [Pauses] I can see why my
Alex loved you so much, David. He was always looking for something....[Thinks for
the right word for a moment]...uncommon. I think that's the way I would describe
it. Come by and see me every once in a while?
David: Of course. [Stands and embraces her]
Mrs. Fauré: [Hugs him and kisses his cheek; turns and approaches the casket]
Mom: [Enters and crosses the room to her son, David] How ya' doing, kiddo?
David: I'm allright.
Mom: [Looking at Mrs. Fauré] That poor woman. [Daydreams for a moment
and then sighs] Well, I just wanted to check up on you.
David: I'm O.K. I'm about done here. Give me another ten to fifteen.
Mom: [Sympathetically] Ok, your father and I will be just outside in the car.
[Exit Mom]
[Exit Mrs. Fauré]
David: [Looks around] Well, buddy, looks like it's just you and me!
[Hesitantly approaches the casket and looks into it]
I do believe that's the first time I remember you not having a shit-eating grin
on your face. Well, that and the time coach caught you peeking in on the girls
dressing room. Grabbed you and lifted you in the air by your back belt loop.
Man, I don't think your eyes were never quite right after you pulled your
skivvies out of your ass.
[Chuckles]
On the other hand, you did get a rather intimate kiss from his daughter after
you recovered. So, I guess you got the last laugh,...
[Despondent and Persnickety] ...son of a bitch! [Pauses] I never got anywhere
with those girls...
Alex: Neither did I.
David: ...and yet you seemed to have this innate ability....
[Alarmed and confused, David pauses]
Is someone there? Hello?
[Dismissively] Yeah, well, even if I did actually hear that I'd be sure you were
full of shit as usual.Case in point, you know what Charleen Dempsey and I were
doing while you and Adele Reese were 'Bobbing for Cherries'?
Alex: No, not actually.
David: Yeah, well, we were playing Bomberman 64. And I was getting my ass handed
to me...OH NOW COME ON!! I heard you that time! Who's here?!
[Looks around the room frantically]
Alex: Whoa, buddy! Calm down! [Grabs David by the shoulders and stares him in
in the eyes] It's me!
David: [Staring] Alex? No...no this can't be? But you're dead? You're in that casket right
there!
Alex: [Looking in the casket] Damn! I look good, man. Why is it that I had to get hit by
a car walking down the street to get a nice suit?
David: You know all that stuff I was just sayin'? Yeah, well, I was just messin' around.
Alex: [Raises his eyebrow] Relax, man. I won't tell anybody, I swear.
David: Ok, so what now? You just hang around and torment me and make me crazy until
I join you in the alternate dimension? Is that your plan?
Alex: Sometimes you can be a real dick, man. Can't you see that I don't know why I am
here? I was floating along a few minutes ago when everything dissolved around me
and I saw you. Then after another minute or two I dropped out and into the room.
So, quit with all the love for God's sake.
David: Damn, man, my bad. It's just...I don't know what to say! Am I supposed to be all
like, 'Welcome back' or should I be shitting myself. I'm just really confused right now.
Alex: Tell me about it. Hey, you really want to know what Adele and I were doing? We
were doing push-ups, man.
David: Bullshit. You were not.
Alex: I swear to God, man. I get into the back room with her thinking I was about to
bury my face into that gorgeous set, and all of a sudden she starts talking about
how she's stronger than I am. Naturally, I have to defend my honor, so we end up
doing push-ups for fifteen minutes or so.
David: How many did you do?
Alex: I don't know...57? 58? It's not important.
David: How many did she do?
Alex: Listen! It's not important.
David: No, seriously, how many did she do?
Alex: Man, I don't know...I don't remember!
David: She beat your ass didn't she?
Alex: Me? Naa! Man, I totally took care of business.
[Looks at David and starts laughing] Ok, yeah, you got me. She beat me by
like eight or nine. But if you tell anyone, I swear I will haunt your ass until eternity.
David: Ok, man, I promise! But you're telling me you didn't even get a peek?
Alex: Not a stitch, man.
David: Damn.
Alex: Meh.
David: Oh, hey, you should've seen Alison Frank today. Man., she was lookin'
F-I-N-E fine!
Alex: Oh, well, that was cool that she came. Hey, did her brother happen to show up?
David: Tom? I don't think so, no.
Alex: Oh. I would've thought he'd have shown up.
David: Why's that? It's not like you two were friends or anything.
Alex: What do you mean? Tom was cool, and we were friends.
David: Nothing. I just meant that I never saw you guys hang out. Besides, his kind doesn't
mix well with the football players.
Alex: His kind? Dude, that guy is way smart. If it wasn't for him, I'd have never gotten
that scholarship to play ball at Michigan State. And who knows? Maybe on to
the NFL! And I'd have him to thank for it.
David: Damn, sorry! [Sarcastically] I didn't realize he was your fuckin' boyfriend.
Alex: Yeah, well... I have a pretty good idea there's a few things you don't know.
David: Try me - you aren't that complicated.
Alex: Ok, asshole. You remember Bethany Hargrove?
David: The brunette with the pointy witches' nose and the heart-shaped ass?
Alex: The very one. Well, we got drunk one day out by her pool, and she starts coming
on to me. The only thing, I was not interested. She gets pisssed off and starts
yelling and telling me I'm gay and shit. You know how I got that scar on my leg?
That happened when she threw te vodka bottle down at my feet.
David: Damn...
Alex: Anyways, her brother comes out to see what all the commotion's about and sees
his drunk sister, a broken bottle of vodka, and some guy with three inches of glass
sticking out of his ankle.
David: [Laughing] But i thought you hooked up with her! I didn't know she beat your ass
with a vodka bottle.
Alex: No, it wasn't her.
David: [Stops laughing] Then who did you hook up with? Who else was there?
Alex: No, it was her brother.
David: Oh, fuck you, man. [Laughs] You came all the way from the grave to punk me?
You never could resist the chance, you sunuvabitch.
Alex: No, seriously, man. I hooked up with her brother.
David: [Shocked] ...
Alex: [Jokingly smug] See? Told you that you didn't know everything about me.
David: But everybody said you guys hooked up!
Alex: No, Bethany said we hooked up. The bitch walked in on me and her brother, still
drunk on vodka and pissed at me. I didn't know what to do! I had ever been in
that situation before. I panicked. She threatened to tell everyone! Man, I didn't
want to get kicked off the team. I didn't know how my friends, my family would
react to that. I was afraid, Ok? Bethany made me promise to let her tell everyone
that we hooked up and she agreed not to tell anyone.
David: You're right. You would have been thoroughly ostracized. I know mom would have
been upset. Dad would have me washed with steel wool just make sure it wasn't
catchy or something. It would have ruined Thanksgiving.
Alex: Well, you are taking this much better than I imagined.
David: I think you underestimate me, man. You're my friend, my bud, my...my bro'. Plus I
trust that you didn't want me that way.
Alex: Well, you're right there. You have no idea what it's been carrying that around with me
all these years. It's like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest.
David: What do you care now? You're dead.
Alex: Thanks for the reminder...dick!
[A comfortable silence lasts for about thirty seconds]
Hey, do me a favor?
David: Sure, man. Name it.
Alex: I have to go in a moment. When you remember me, try to remember me as simply
'Alex' - not 'gay Alex', eh?
David: Ok, now who's being the dick? [Smiles mischievously]
Alex: [Chuckles] Ok, fair enough. Hey? Buds?
David: You bet, man. [Extends his hand to shake Alex's hand]
Alex: That's all I get, you punk? [Smiling]
[David and Alex embrace, Alex patting David on the back]
Well....[Sighs]...take it easy, bro'
[Exit Alex]
[Enter Mom]
Mom: David? You coming? At this rate, we'll miss our reservations for dinner!
David: Yeah, on my way, Mom; right behind you.
[Exit Mom]
[David takes one last look in the casket, and then exits through the
same door as his mother.]
[End Scene I]
[End Act]
[Fade to black]
Invino Veritas
10/21/11
EOF
Friday, October 21, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The Rapture And The Pride
I thought I would contribute to the conversation once.
They told me I shouldn't engage in things of which I had no knowledge.
So, I decided to engage in the activity of which they spake.
They told me I should stop because I wasn't good at it.
They thought I was stupid for trying.
They said I couldn't have known what I was thinking.
So, I listened to them talk about it.
I listened to the haters.
I listened to the likers.
I listened to those who didn't care.
I listened to the subjective critics.
I listened to the objective critics.
I formed my first opinion.
I joined the conversation again.
They said my conclusion wasn't logical.
So I studied logic.
I learned how to argue.
I learned to think critically.
I learned to research information.
I learned how to construct sound conclusions.
I formed my second opinion.
I joined the conversation again.
They told me I didn't live in the real world.
They told me I didn't know of which I spake.
I told them I had experience.
I told them I had logic.
They told me I had no skill.
So, I did it again.
And I worked at it.
No matter how bad I was.
No matter how I hated it.
No matter how much effort it took.
No matter how it made me feel.
No matter how it changed my attitude.
No matter how angry it made me.
Then I joined the conversation again.
I used my logic.
I used my experience.
I used my skill.
They told me I had no talent.
They told me I had no perspective.
I went to find perspective.
I altered my perspective.
I was still angry.
I was still tired.
I was still fruitless.
Things didn't look the same.
I didn't react the same.
I couldn't sense it the same way anymore.
But I had perspective.
And I didn't care anymore.
I had no more opinion.
But I joined the conversation anyways.
They said I was better.
They said they would teach me.
So I listened to them again.
I watched them some more.
I did what they did.
I did it like they did.
I cared again.
I gained perspective again.
I gained experience.
I gained skill.
I set logic upon the shelf.
They said I had some talent.
They invited me to join the conversation.
I was one of them.
Then the new kid came.
The new kid joined the conversation.
We told him he shouldn't engage in things of which he had no knowledge.
Wetold him he wasn't good at it.
We told him he was stupid for trying.
We told him he couldn't have known what he was thinking.
We told him he wasn't being logical.
We told him he didn't live in the real world.
We told him he didn't know of which he spake.
We told him he had no talent.
We told him he had no perspective.
He became angry.
He became tired.
He became fruitless.
He didn't react the same way anymore.
He didn't care anymore.
We told him we'd teach him.
He worked at it.
He began to care.
He had talent after all.
We invited him to the conversation.
He became one of us.
Together we were content for a while.
My mind wandered.
I found things didn't make much sense.
I tried to figure out why things didn't make sense.
Something was off.
Something was out of place.
Something was unbalanced.
I couldn't remember my logic.
I couldn't deconstruct the relationships.
I couldn't identify the causes.
I couldn't identify the results.
I couldn't think about anything but the conversation.
I couldn't remember what I used to do.
I couldn't remember who I used to be.
I couldn't remember...
Anything.
They told me I shouldn't engage in things of which I had no knowledge.
So, I decided to engage in the activity of which they spake.
They told me I should stop because I wasn't good at it.
They thought I was stupid for trying.
They said I couldn't have known what I was thinking.
So, I listened to them talk about it.
I listened to the haters.
I listened to the likers.
I listened to those who didn't care.
I listened to the subjective critics.
I listened to the objective critics.
I formed my first opinion.
I joined the conversation again.
They said my conclusion wasn't logical.
So I studied logic.
I learned how to argue.
I learned to think critically.
I learned to research information.
I learned how to construct sound conclusions.
I formed my second opinion.
I joined the conversation again.
They told me I didn't live in the real world.
They told me I didn't know of which I spake.
I told them I had experience.
I told them I had logic.
They told me I had no skill.
So, I did it again.
And I worked at it.
No matter how bad I was.
No matter how I hated it.
No matter how much effort it took.
No matter how it made me feel.
No matter how it changed my attitude.
No matter how angry it made me.
Then I joined the conversation again.
I used my logic.
I used my experience.
I used my skill.
They told me I had no talent.
They told me I had no perspective.
I went to find perspective.
I altered my perspective.
I was still angry.
I was still tired.
I was still fruitless.
Things didn't look the same.
I didn't react the same.
I couldn't sense it the same way anymore.
But I had perspective.
And I didn't care anymore.
I had no more opinion.
But I joined the conversation anyways.
They said I was better.
They said they would teach me.
So I listened to them again.
I watched them some more.
I did what they did.
I did it like they did.
I cared again.
I gained perspective again.
I gained experience.
I gained skill.
I set logic upon the shelf.
They said I had some talent.
They invited me to join the conversation.
I was one of them.
Then the new kid came.
The new kid joined the conversation.
We told him he shouldn't engage in things of which he had no knowledge.
Wetold him he wasn't good at it.
We told him he was stupid for trying.
We told him he couldn't have known what he was thinking.
We told him he wasn't being logical.
We told him he didn't live in the real world.
We told him he didn't know of which he spake.
We told him he had no talent.
We told him he had no perspective.
He became angry.
He became tired.
He became fruitless.
He didn't react the same way anymore.
He didn't care anymore.
We told him we'd teach him.
He worked at it.
He began to care.
He had talent after all.
We invited him to the conversation.
He became one of us.
Together we were content for a while.
My mind wandered.
I found things didn't make much sense.
I tried to figure out why things didn't make sense.
Something was off.
Something was out of place.
Something was unbalanced.
I couldn't remember my logic.
I couldn't deconstruct the relationships.
I couldn't identify the causes.
I couldn't identify the results.
I couldn't think about anything but the conversation.
I couldn't remember what I used to do.
I couldn't remember who I used to be.
I couldn't remember...
Anything.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Random Mental Purgings
It's shaping up to be one of those crazy days, therefore I submit for your viewing pleasure and because I have to get this stuff out of my head somehow:
1. When chickens eat meat, what do they compare it to?
2. Despite what you may think, the seaside community of Phuket, Thailand is not
pronounced as "fuck it" contrary to popular belief. I was verily enlightened last
night at the Thai restaraunt.
3. So there's this 8 track car stereo for sale in the state for 50 bucks. I'm tempted
to buy it and roll up into work one day blasting some hi-fi goodness in the form
of something like Chicago IX or some classic KISS albums. Can you imagine
that? "Hey man! What's wrong?! You don't like the BEE GEES?!"
4. I shouldn't feel this good. Maybe it's the thai food I had last night because it sure
as hell wasn't the three shots of tequila, six beers, two shots of Jagermeister and
a shot of Rumplemintz that is making me feel this good today.
5. By the way, the answer to the followup question resulting from the above entry
is "No."
6. Is there anything else that comes in pilafs? Is rice the only thing that can be
described in terms of a pilaf? I don't ever recall having a pilaf of bean curd, or
maybe a pilaf of iron ore. In this case, if we just shortened the term 'rice pilaf' to '
pilaf' then, by default, it should uncondtionally refer to rice, right? In other words,
using the word 'rice' to describe a pilaf is really superfluous and even wordy.
7. Paging Mr. Orwell: white courtesy phone. Mr. Orwell, white courtesy phone.
8. It's comical to me how supposedly educated and intelligent people can describe
things or even interpret events and elements in their environments. For example, I
get into work today and the first service call I receive is to replace a tension spring
on a receipt printer. Ok, that's easy, but each service call should come with a
description of the problem from the client's own technician. The technician's
description is as follows: "Tension spring is missing and broken." Now, how in the
hell does he know the spring is broken if it's missing? He can only assume that it's
broken, but he cannot know for sure unless the spring was a.) not missing at one
time at the time it was no longer part of the printer, and b.) if he observed the
spring at that moment as being broken. For now, we'll ignore the other minor
assumptions.
9. People automate their thinking too often, methinks. Perhaps that's what makes it
so easy to pass the buck for some people. It's too easy to avoid the tough things
or the things that require higher or even greater amounts of mental effort. In all
fairness, though, you cannot be expeced to know and do everything. But a common
problem with this practice is we often miss crucial bis of information because we
mentally skip ahead to what we think is the next step. For example, in performing
repetitive or common tasks, it's too easy to stick an extra link in the chain of events.
doing this upsets the timing or the process of getting from one end of the chain to the
other. Imagine, if you will, that day after day you drive your car to work the same way.
After a few weeks, you may begin to not even remember certain points of the route
only because it has become so common place that your brain has filtered out the details
it feels is necessary. Ok, now the next day a cow walks across the road in a random act
of universal chaos. You are in your state of assumtion or automation, and BLAMMO!!
You hit the car because you weren't really paying attention. Is that your fault? Probably
not. You didn't consciously decide to filter out information. On the the other hand, you
weren't exactly spending the extra effort to delay, if not turn off, your filters. In that
respect, yes, it's your fault.
10. Ow! I just stuck a flathead screwdriver through the tip of my middle finger. I imagine
it will be fine with the amount of alcohol we use around here.
11. I have transcended mere mashed potatoes and gravy. In using french fries with gravy,
I have better control over the flow of the gravy while keeping with the time honored
tradition of potatoes and gravy. This could very well be the start of a beautiful
friendship, as it would be. This could be the beginning of a storied duet of epic
proportion, a mountain of power, an idyllic reprise of faith and devotion to all that is
tasty, a marriage made in heaven, or equivalent to a gallon of awesomesauce.
12. Yes, I just said 'awesomesauce'. Can you dig it?
13. Nope, we can't end on #13. Must move to #14 here.
14. And The Lord said, "14 shall be the number and no more nor no less shall the
number be. Wait I've got to take this. Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Yes. Yes. Not yet. Ok.
I got it. Ok, love you, too, Mom. Buh-bye. Ok, everybody, we're going to keep
going. Thanks for all your patience!"
15. I think the guy who played Bill S. Preston, Esquire in Bill & Ted's Excellent
Adventure should have had (more) lines in the movie The Lost Boys. Maybe.
1. When chickens eat meat, what do they compare it to?
2. Despite what you may think, the seaside community of Phuket, Thailand is not
pronounced as "fuck it" contrary to popular belief. I was verily enlightened last
night at the Thai restaraunt.
3. So there's this 8 track car stereo for sale in the state for 50 bucks. I'm tempted
to buy it and roll up into work one day blasting some hi-fi goodness in the form
of something like Chicago IX or some classic KISS albums. Can you imagine
that? "Hey man! What's wrong?! You don't like the BEE GEES?!"
4. I shouldn't feel this good. Maybe it's the thai food I had last night because it sure
as hell wasn't the three shots of tequila, six beers, two shots of Jagermeister and
a shot of Rumplemintz that is making me feel this good today.
5. By the way, the answer to the followup question resulting from the above entry
is "No."
6. Is there anything else that comes in pilafs? Is rice the only thing that can be
described in terms of a pilaf? I don't ever recall having a pilaf of bean curd, or
maybe a pilaf of iron ore. In this case, if we just shortened the term 'rice pilaf' to '
pilaf' then, by default, it should uncondtionally refer to rice, right? In other words,
using the word 'rice' to describe a pilaf is really superfluous and even wordy.
7. Paging Mr. Orwell: white courtesy phone. Mr. Orwell, white courtesy phone.
8. It's comical to me how supposedly educated and intelligent people can describe
things or even interpret events and elements in their environments. For example, I
get into work today and the first service call I receive is to replace a tension spring
on a receipt printer. Ok, that's easy, but each service call should come with a
description of the problem from the client's own technician. The technician's
description is as follows: "Tension spring is missing and broken." Now, how in the
hell does he know the spring is broken if it's missing? He can only assume that it's
broken, but he cannot know for sure unless the spring was a.) not missing at one
time at the time it was no longer part of the printer, and b.) if he observed the
spring at that moment as being broken. For now, we'll ignore the other minor
assumptions.
9. People automate their thinking too often, methinks. Perhaps that's what makes it
so easy to pass the buck for some people. It's too easy to avoid the tough things
or the things that require higher or even greater amounts of mental effort. In all
fairness, though, you cannot be expeced to know and do everything. But a common
problem with this practice is we often miss crucial bis of information because we
mentally skip ahead to what we think is the next step. For example, in performing
repetitive or common tasks, it's too easy to stick an extra link in the chain of events.
doing this upsets the timing or the process of getting from one end of the chain to the
other. Imagine, if you will, that day after day you drive your car to work the same way.
After a few weeks, you may begin to not even remember certain points of the route
only because it has become so common place that your brain has filtered out the details
it feels is necessary. Ok, now the next day a cow walks across the road in a random act
of universal chaos. You are in your state of assumtion or automation, and BLAMMO!!
You hit the car because you weren't really paying attention. Is that your fault? Probably
not. You didn't consciously decide to filter out information. On the the other hand, you
weren't exactly spending the extra effort to delay, if not turn off, your filters. In that
respect, yes, it's your fault.
10. Ow! I just stuck a flathead screwdriver through the tip of my middle finger. I imagine
it will be fine with the amount of alcohol we use around here.
11. I have transcended mere mashed potatoes and gravy. In using french fries with gravy,
I have better control over the flow of the gravy while keeping with the time honored
tradition of potatoes and gravy. This could very well be the start of a beautiful
friendship, as it would be. This could be the beginning of a storied duet of epic
proportion, a mountain of power, an idyllic reprise of faith and devotion to all that is
tasty, a marriage made in heaven, or equivalent to a gallon of awesomesauce.
12. Yes, I just said 'awesomesauce'. Can you dig it?
13. Nope, we can't end on #13. Must move to #14 here.
14. And The Lord said, "14 shall be the number and no more nor no less shall the
number be. Wait I've got to take this. Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Yes. Yes. Not yet. Ok.
I got it. Ok, love you, too, Mom. Buh-bye. Ok, everybody, we're going to keep
going. Thanks for all your patience!"
15. I think the guy who played Bill S. Preston, Esquire in Bill & Ted's Excellent
Adventure should have had (more) lines in the movie The Lost Boys. Maybe.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Siena Root's Far From The Sun (2008) : A Review
The past week or so has been quite uneventful to the point of being a lull. When this happens, (and it happens occasionally), I can feel the very soul of my creative outpouring quiver and pass out like a junkie who just climaxed. In fact, that may a more accurate description than I care to accept at this point. Creatvity is addictive, and should you find yourself in the auspcious position to create something that is, indeed, pleasant to yourself (if not someone else) then I invite youto pause right before that highpoint and simply enjoy the moment before you crash like a skier rolling over a slope of moguls. If you do that, I have no doubt that you will become addicted to your own creativity. Anyways, this "lull" has lasted for a couple of weeks thusfar, so when I woke up this morning it was no surprise that I felt pretty uninspired. As my head loosened itself from the over-squashed lump of fluff that is my pillow, I rose to meet the day at the halfway point. (As of late, me and the day have an understanding: I don't mess with it, and it doesn't mess with me.) I reconfimred my agreement with the impending day, and soon got ready for work, keeping in my mind the time table under which I was bound. I soon found myself running late, and stretched across my face was this Charlie Brown-esque grimace at the memories of sleep and the anticipation of having to do work. As I cleared the umbrella of interference from the local radio waves, I turned on my little Sony MP3 player and let it build its library. I then powered up my cheap-o RF transmitter connected to my MP3 player. I then tuned the radio accordingly. As not to loose my understanding of where I was while driving, I quickly allowed my consciousness and eyes dart back up to the road like a horny hummingbird as I waited for the library creation of my toys to take place. I breathed one hard sigh as fruition was realized, and punched the play button. After a short delay, sweet music rang. Ahh, and what's better is it was good music, too.
By this time, you're probably wondering, "What's so special about the music this time?" I have to admit I wasn't really just pumped about driving and listening to music as I do it almost everyday, and my head was filled with things that weren't terribly pleasant. It was pretty hard to get myself motivated. One might expect somebody in my frame of mind to listen to something, perhaps, a little more emo or whiney (if there's even a difference). But, no. Not at all. In fact, I had been listening to Siena Root's Far From The Sun. Now, let me tell you about this album. I guess I decided to write a review about this album when I first heard the album's fourth track, Almost There. I was floored at such a soulful piece of elegance and fond remembrance of an earlier time. The song was like that first time I ever had a beer with my grandfather or how I remember that first cigarette felt, that cherry buzz. I think I felt my fingertips tingle for a moment. Almost There transported me on a cloud of mushroom gas back to the stoner rock of the late 1960's. (Let's face it, even though it wasn't called "stoner rock", that's what it was. Admit it.)
Far From The Sun begins with a cowbell and with a traditional rock riff straight out of 1974, and never looks back. The entire album is game for several instruments from guitar to organ to even sitar and flute. As the songs roll over and over one another, I feel like I got kicked in the balls by Jethro Tull and Jimmy Page as they each told me to wake up and smell the mushroom vapor I rode in on. Siena Root's Far From The Sun is a wonderful medley of aparent influences like Jethro Tull, Led Zeppelin, and The Beatles. The instruments are raw like their sound. The texture of each song runs several layers deep. For example, by the time the second song, Waiting for the Sun rolls around, the listener is taken to a caravan in India with a long intro jam and a sitar as its highlighted instrument. Climaxing with a stutter, the jam turns into simple, yet fun, rock groove. Tieing the groove together like a brand new pair of moccasins is the soulful voice of Sartez Faraj drifting on a current of psychedelia an extra two or three miles long.
By the time we get to the third song of eight, Time Will Tell, we really begin to understand Siena Root as an artist. Starting at first simple, this song is peeled back like an onion, layer after layer as the journey continues in a line sort of like a wormhole. The journey appears to be in a straight line, but there is no guarantee of any such thing. The world of rock dissolves after a moment into a breakdown and change drifting off into the great unknown, and then vaulting the listener into a reprise. As the third song is cleared leaving us shaking our head in agreement and acceptance, Almost There smacks us in the face to remind us that the best is yet to come. This tune is thickly layered with great, fat organ sounds and a gritty, raw psychedelic guitar slicing through everything like a snake over the surface of the water. Somewhere in the middle of Almost There, even the band realizes they must lay back and enjoy the moment and let the groove sit on top of things for a moment like the fog over a Scottish lake. But just to keep things honest, the moment clears with a spike of rock and roll riffwork leading into a solo made of grass and a vial of blood summoned from the veins of Ritchie Blackmore.
To let the listener recover from the overexposure to so much rock, Siena Root puts the bus on cruise control with their fifth song, Two Steps Backwards. This song is an "f'n rock song". Sit back enjoy the fat analog sounds of the 60's and 70's erupting into your front seat like a hot dog in your microwave as it leads you to pick back up on the rock journey. Then, Wishing For More breaks through to give you some lovin' with a catchy rock riff to carry the backbone of the tune along with the bass. Just out of the range of normal consciousness is the harmonica accompaniment that at first my mind actually said, "What hell is that? Oh, well that was unexpected." At this point, I looked down at my speedometer, and saw that it was a bit elevated. "This song is a lot of fun" I remember thinking. With a warm fuzzy feeling, the next song broke into the air with a depth and fat not yet heard on Far From The Sun, giving way to a soft medley of vocals and great accompaniment from a lone flute. Offsetting the strangely "gaelic rock" mood is what I will call "The Siena Root Rock Yo' Father's Face Off" sound. Faceless and content, I wander, dazed from the seventh song, The Summer Is Old, to the eighth which starts with an honest groove. In The Break of Dawn, the flute and guitar come together as if taunting each other, vieing with one another for the spotlight, evenutally compromising in a strange dance together. And then, suddenly, the album ends as the two instruments seem to leave off into the sunset together.
Siena Root's Far From The Sun is a marvel and a pleasure to which I enjoy listening. Their comprehensive walthrough of psychedelic rock and attention to detail is second to little outside of those icons of the 60's and 70's that set the stage for people like you, me, and Siena Root to do what they do and discover. This album is completely chock full of instruments, too. Generally, a rock album of this type will be limited to drums, guitar, bass, and some vocals. You might get a miniscule amount of keyboards, but that really is usually no more than a bit of CGI work in modern action movies. But with Siena Root, you get a large collage of sounds and instruments from around the world including, but not limited to, the sitar, the flute, the hudy-gurdy, the organ, harmonica, and bansuri (another type of flute from Bangladesh, India, and Nepal). So, if you decide, go grab yourself a couple of purple and green party lights, and a lava lamp. Find a nice, dark, smoky room and slip into some colored sunglasses. Bring out the tweezers, lay back and grab a beer. Press play, and enjoy the ride. This is a good album for it.
By this time, you're probably wondering, "What's so special about the music this time?" I have to admit I wasn't really just pumped about driving and listening to music as I do it almost everyday, and my head was filled with things that weren't terribly pleasant. It was pretty hard to get myself motivated. One might expect somebody in my frame of mind to listen to something, perhaps, a little more emo or whiney (if there's even a difference). But, no. Not at all. In fact, I had been listening to Siena Root's Far From The Sun. Now, let me tell you about this album. I guess I decided to write a review about this album when I first heard the album's fourth track, Almost There. I was floored at such a soulful piece of elegance and fond remembrance of an earlier time. The song was like that first time I ever had a beer with my grandfather or how I remember that first cigarette felt, that cherry buzz. I think I felt my fingertips tingle for a moment. Almost There transported me on a cloud of mushroom gas back to the stoner rock of the late 1960's. (Let's face it, even though it wasn't called "stoner rock", that's what it was. Admit it.)
Far From The Sun begins with a cowbell and with a traditional rock riff straight out of 1974, and never looks back. The entire album is game for several instruments from guitar to organ to even sitar and flute. As the songs roll over and over one another, I feel like I got kicked in the balls by Jethro Tull and Jimmy Page as they each told me to wake up and smell the mushroom vapor I rode in on. Siena Root's Far From The Sun is a wonderful medley of aparent influences like Jethro Tull, Led Zeppelin, and The Beatles. The instruments are raw like their sound. The texture of each song runs several layers deep. For example, by the time the second song, Waiting for the Sun rolls around, the listener is taken to a caravan in India with a long intro jam and a sitar as its highlighted instrument. Climaxing with a stutter, the jam turns into simple, yet fun, rock groove. Tieing the groove together like a brand new pair of moccasins is the soulful voice of Sartez Faraj drifting on a current of psychedelia an extra two or three miles long.
By the time we get to the third song of eight, Time Will Tell, we really begin to understand Siena Root as an artist. Starting at first simple, this song is peeled back like an onion, layer after layer as the journey continues in a line sort of like a wormhole. The journey appears to be in a straight line, but there is no guarantee of any such thing. The world of rock dissolves after a moment into a breakdown and change drifting off into the great unknown, and then vaulting the listener into a reprise. As the third song is cleared leaving us shaking our head in agreement and acceptance, Almost There smacks us in the face to remind us that the best is yet to come. This tune is thickly layered with great, fat organ sounds and a gritty, raw psychedelic guitar slicing through everything like a snake over the surface of the water. Somewhere in the middle of Almost There, even the band realizes they must lay back and enjoy the moment and let the groove sit on top of things for a moment like the fog over a Scottish lake. But just to keep things honest, the moment clears with a spike of rock and roll riffwork leading into a solo made of grass and a vial of blood summoned from the veins of Ritchie Blackmore.
To let the listener recover from the overexposure to so much rock, Siena Root puts the bus on cruise control with their fifth song, Two Steps Backwards. This song is an "f'n rock song". Sit back enjoy the fat analog sounds of the 60's and 70's erupting into your front seat like a hot dog in your microwave as it leads you to pick back up on the rock journey. Then, Wishing For More breaks through to give you some lovin' with a catchy rock riff to carry the backbone of the tune along with the bass. Just out of the range of normal consciousness is the harmonica accompaniment that at first my mind actually said, "What hell is that? Oh, well that was unexpected." At this point, I looked down at my speedometer, and saw that it was a bit elevated. "This song is a lot of fun" I remember thinking. With a warm fuzzy feeling, the next song broke into the air with a depth and fat not yet heard on Far From The Sun, giving way to a soft medley of vocals and great accompaniment from a lone flute. Offsetting the strangely "gaelic rock" mood is what I will call "The Siena Root Rock Yo' Father's Face Off" sound. Faceless and content, I wander, dazed from the seventh song, The Summer Is Old, to the eighth which starts with an honest groove. In The Break of Dawn, the flute and guitar come together as if taunting each other, vieing with one another for the spotlight, evenutally compromising in a strange dance together. And then, suddenly, the album ends as the two instruments seem to leave off into the sunset together.
Siena Root's Far From The Sun is a marvel and a pleasure to which I enjoy listening. Their comprehensive walthrough of psychedelic rock and attention to detail is second to little outside of those icons of the 60's and 70's that set the stage for people like you, me, and Siena Root to do what they do and discover. This album is completely chock full of instruments, too. Generally, a rock album of this type will be limited to drums, guitar, bass, and some vocals. You might get a miniscule amount of keyboards, but that really is usually no more than a bit of CGI work in modern action movies. But with Siena Root, you get a large collage of sounds and instruments from around the world including, but not limited to, the sitar, the flute, the hudy-gurdy, the organ, harmonica, and bansuri (another type of flute from Bangladesh, India, and Nepal). So, if you decide, go grab yourself a couple of purple and green party lights, and a lava lamp. Find a nice, dark, smoky room and slip into some colored sunglasses. Bring out the tweezers, lay back and grab a beer. Press play, and enjoy the ride. This is a good album for it.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
How I Got Punked By David Coverdale
It all started on a pretty normal Wednesday is small town USA. I finished the work day at the normal town on a normal day and drove my normal way to go vsit and a have an evening beer or two at the normal watering hole. Generally, I try to get out of there at aout 8:00 p.m. to give myself enough time to eat, get a few things done if need be, and wind down to ed my night. By my second beer, I was having a pretty good conversation or two with an old friend of mine regarding fantasy football. 7:30 rolled around and another friened of mine showed up and I began tlaking to her. I don't think she meant to be there for more than a few minutes, so we were both procrastinating pretty well. After a few shots and a few more beers, the track of time was lost and 9:00 was soon upon me. I said my goodbyes and went home.
I got home about 9:15 and skipped my evening meal. I decided to simply grab some Netflix and some couch time as the night was drawing to a close and I needed to wind down a bit before I hit the sack. I flipped on over to the remainder of Airplane! from the other night and watched that until about 11:15 after messing around on the internet for about thirty minutes. Within about ten minutes I was fast asleep.That night, I dreamed. I must have been dreaming the entire time but it's really difficult to say. I don't generally dream that I remember. But then again, in order to remember my dreams I must wake up in the middle of them. As fate would have it, that's exactly what happened.
At 4:35 a.m. I awoke suddenly from a deep alcohol ladened sleep, confused and momentarily energized. After a brief delay, my mind was flooded with memories of the dream in which I was involved just momens before. In my dreams and for some strange, unknown reason, I was in a hospital bed complete with a hospital garb. There was a faceless attendant at my side and the hospital was dark execpt for the ight around me. As I looked over to my left, the "camera" panned to the front of the home where my grandparents lived for years - the same home that my grandfather built with his own two hands. I could see the side door and the carpot, and the driveway that led from the house to the outside world. Emanating from the scene was some sort of indistinguishable music not unlike that of a rock concert. At that point, the person in my dream who was me began to remember something that supposedly happened in the past relative to the setting of the dream. At one time, I must have tried to get in to see Whitesnake but was denied by this woman ticketeer who said I couldn't get n because I didn't have tickets. Well, the music I heard was Whitesnake, and when David Coverdale began to sing "Slow and Easy" he magically appeared on a second stage between me in the hospital bed and the dor to my grandparents' home. Now, David Coverdale was rocking. He had the mic and he was twirling it around and belting out mad tunes. He was the epitomy of 80's glam metal. But strange to this scene was that his band members were non-existent. Whitesnake's music just seemed to push through from some other dimension and follow him around to accompay him wherever he went.
As soon as David Coverdale began rocking the mic on the other stage, all the people from the concert began flooding the front of the stage to continue whatever concert he was holding at the time. I took this opportunity to appear a few meters from the stage to run over there and join the oncoming crowd. After all, I wanted to go to the concert too and rock out with Whitesnake and David Coverdale. But as soon as I got up to the crowd's edge, that same ticketeer confronted me asking "Where's my tickets?". She barred my entry into the festivities. All of a sudden, David Coverdale stopped and yelled over the microphone. "Hell No! If that little fucker didn't pay, get him te hell out of here!" /I could see my face lit up with suprise ad embarassment as te entire crowd and the ticketeer looked at me with accusing stares. I was punked by David Coverdale. That sunuvabitch.
The dream ended there. I woke up. I guess, in some sort of strange way, David Coverdale got his wish. I guess in some crazy manner, the ticketeer had mystical power. Together, tey jetisoned me out of my own dream. For a brief moment, I grinned while I sat up in bed. When I realized what had happened, I became a tad bit miffed. I said to myself, "Just for that, David Coverdale, I'm going back to bed and I'm going to dream your ass into a dark alley!" A tiny manical laugh escaped my subconscious as I layed my head back on the pillow. That's the last thing I remember before I woke up to get ready for work.
Now, I'm sure Freud would probably have a field day with this one. I don't really take much stock in dream inerpretation, however. But if there was anything to gather from this experienct it's that we don't have as much control over our dreams as some of you may think. Once your consciousness subsides, you are no longer master of your own domain. Second, don't mess with David Coverdale. If you do, he will punk you too. I n order to combat David Coverdale, I will have to do research into what character should be manifested in the dream to combat David Coverdale. In the meantime, t's best to stay clear of him. Finally, if you're going to pass out after a night of beers and friends, make sure you have nounresolved issues with legalities, moralities, and your conscience. I for one can't really pinpoint the whole not having tickets issue that seemed to pop up at the concert in the dream, but I like to think it probably had something to do with my subconsciousness tapping into my conscience.
Oh, and if you see that ticketeer, tell her I'm looking for her and I got her tickets.
Invino Veritas
9/29//11
EOF
I got home about 9:15 and skipped my evening meal. I decided to simply grab some Netflix and some couch time as the night was drawing to a close and I needed to wind down a bit before I hit the sack. I flipped on over to the remainder of Airplane! from the other night and watched that until about 11:15 after messing around on the internet for about thirty minutes. Within about ten minutes I was fast asleep.That night, I dreamed. I must have been dreaming the entire time but it's really difficult to say. I don't generally dream that I remember. But then again, in order to remember my dreams I must wake up in the middle of them. As fate would have it, that's exactly what happened.
At 4:35 a.m. I awoke suddenly from a deep alcohol ladened sleep, confused and momentarily energized. After a brief delay, my mind was flooded with memories of the dream in which I was involved just momens before. In my dreams and for some strange, unknown reason, I was in a hospital bed complete with a hospital garb. There was a faceless attendant at my side and the hospital was dark execpt for the ight around me. As I looked over to my left, the "camera" panned to the front of the home where my grandparents lived for years - the same home that my grandfather built with his own two hands. I could see the side door and the carpot, and the driveway that led from the house to the outside world. Emanating from the scene was some sort of indistinguishable music not unlike that of a rock concert. At that point, the person in my dream who was me began to remember something that supposedly happened in the past relative to the setting of the dream. At one time, I must have tried to get in to see Whitesnake but was denied by this woman ticketeer who said I couldn't get n because I didn't have tickets. Well, the music I heard was Whitesnake, and when David Coverdale began to sing "Slow and Easy" he magically appeared on a second stage between me in the hospital bed and the dor to my grandparents' home. Now, David Coverdale was rocking. He had the mic and he was twirling it around and belting out mad tunes. He was the epitomy of 80's glam metal. But strange to this scene was that his band members were non-existent. Whitesnake's music just seemed to push through from some other dimension and follow him around to accompay him wherever he went.
As soon as David Coverdale began rocking the mic on the other stage, all the people from the concert began flooding the front of the stage to continue whatever concert he was holding at the time. I took this opportunity to appear a few meters from the stage to run over there and join the oncoming crowd. After all, I wanted to go to the concert too and rock out with Whitesnake and David Coverdale. But as soon as I got up to the crowd's edge, that same ticketeer confronted me asking "Where's my tickets?". She barred my entry into the festivities. All of a sudden, David Coverdale stopped and yelled over the microphone. "Hell No! If that little fucker didn't pay, get him te hell out of here!" /I could see my face lit up with suprise ad embarassment as te entire crowd and the ticketeer looked at me with accusing stares. I was punked by David Coverdale. That sunuvabitch.
The dream ended there. I woke up. I guess, in some sort of strange way, David Coverdale got his wish. I guess in some crazy manner, the ticketeer had mystical power. Together, tey jetisoned me out of my own dream. For a brief moment, I grinned while I sat up in bed. When I realized what had happened, I became a tad bit miffed. I said to myself, "Just for that, David Coverdale, I'm going back to bed and I'm going to dream your ass into a dark alley!" A tiny manical laugh escaped my subconscious as I layed my head back on the pillow. That's the last thing I remember before I woke up to get ready for work.
Now, I'm sure Freud would probably have a field day with this one. I don't really take much stock in dream inerpretation, however. But if there was anything to gather from this experienct it's that we don't have as much control over our dreams as some of you may think. Once your consciousness subsides, you are no longer master of your own domain. Second, don't mess with David Coverdale. If you do, he will punk you too. I n order to combat David Coverdale, I will have to do research into what character should be manifested in the dream to combat David Coverdale. In the meantime, t's best to stay clear of him. Finally, if you're going to pass out after a night of beers and friends, make sure you have nounresolved issues with legalities, moralities, and your conscience. I for one can't really pinpoint the whole not having tickets issue that seemed to pop up at the concert in the dream, but I like to think it probably had something to do with my subconsciousness tapping into my conscience.
Oh, and if you see that ticketeer, tell her I'm looking for her and I got her tickets.
Invino Veritas
9/29//11
EOF
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Devilishly Departmental: Part Deux
Devilishly Departmental: Part Deux
[SceneI: The Throneroom]
[Satan and his new agent, Agent 665, are in his throne room going over the agenda.]
Agent 665: Allright, first item. You have a 9:30 appointment with a Mr. Daniels for violin
lessons.
Satan: Violin lessons? What the hell kind of evil is that? In fact, that's really NOT evil. That's
just stupid.
Agent 665: [Waving his hands] Something about Georgia and Golden Fiddles, and some kid
named "Johnny"....the information is really kind of sketchy.
Satan: Burn them! Burn the piss out of them!
Agent 655: Well, if we did that....[looks at his sheet of paper] we will lose 67%, roughly, of
our profits from eBay. Those little trailer rats love useless crap.
Satan: Oh. Can't we just singe them a bit then?
Agent 665: No. Besides, the commissioner of the Southeastern Conference is in Georgia.
His contract doesn't expire until 2017.
Satan: Damn! Damn! Damn! [Pounds his fist]
Agent 665: Ok, next order of business. The Vatican has decided to up its original requests
for bleeding Jesus sculpture from one a year to seven. And they are also requesting
an extension of the rental agreements for the souls of lecherous priests.
Satan: Absolutely not on the first. What are they offering on the second?
Agent 665: A 'Nuns of the Convent' yearly calendar, a Civil War commemorative chess set,
a subscription to the cheese of the month club, and 25% off at Hot Topic.
Satan: Did you say 'Nuns of the Convent"? And cheese?
Agent 665: Yup!
Satan: I certainly do love nuns and cheese....
Agent 665: ...and it's a pretty nice chess set, too.
Satan: [Thinks for a moment] Ok. tell them yes, but only an extra month. Meanwhile, I want
the calendar over there next to the throne, the cheese on one of those big silver
platters over there [Points], and funnel the rest to our eBay store. No, wait. Forward
the discount card to Golgotha; she may need spare parts.
Agent 665: Very good, sir. Next item: Jesus called. He wants to sit down.
Satan: Again?! We just did that two millenia ago next Tuesday.
Agent 665: He's really pretty adamant about this. We really should pencil him in. How about
three o'clock in the main conference hall? We'll just cancel your weekly round of golf
with Tiger Woods. Besides, we can always reschedule.
Satan: [Sighs] Fine! Damn!
Agent 665: We can always set it for another time....
Satan: No, damnit! Let's get this stupid crap over with! In fact, bump it up to umm...noontime.
We'll make it a lunch thing. That way I can still play golf. I got your ass this time, Tiger!
[Raises fist to the air]
Agent 665: Ok, that should cover everything for today.
Satan: Let's see, what time is it? [Looks at his watch] Ahh, 8:45. Time for a quick sulphur
rinse, and then off to the races!
Agent 665: As you wish, sire.
[Exit Satan]
[End Scene]
[Scene II: The Main Conference Hall of Hell]
[Satan and Agent 665 awaits Jesus and his men.]
[Satan is reading Reader's Digest Magzine]
[Agent 665 is picking his nose and trying to flick it off his fingertip]
Satan: [Chuckling] Oh, Reader's Digest, laughter really is the best medicine!
[Closes the magazine.]
Where are they?! It's almost 1:00 for chrissakes!
Agent 665: [Chuckling]
Satan: What?
Agent 665: Nothing. You just said 'christ's sake'....
Satan: Oh, yeah, Ha!. That's pretty funny, actually.
Agent 665: Yeah...
[Enter Jesus and his two goons]
Jesus: Satan!
Satan: Jesus! Wonderful to see you! I hope the flight was to your liking?
Jesus: Eh. It was ok. A little bumpy around the tokhes, but ok.
Satan: You want I should fetch a charioteer for you next time? You haven't traveled to the
Underworld until you've done it by chariot!
Jesus: Oh, you musn't trouble. I'll be fine! I'll just get another one. Dad's got tons of extras.
I was thinking of something athletic and Nigerian. [Poses and looks at his rear end]
Satan: Why mess with perfection?
Agent 665: [Ushering towards a table and chairs] Gentlemen? Shall we?
Satan: [Sits down at the head of the table] Have some challah made fresh this morning,
Jesus. You're a wine man, aren't you? Wine all around! And bring some of those
fish ball things, too.
Agent 665: As you wish, sire.
[Exit Agent 665]
Jesus: Really, Satan, you worry too much. Forget me! Let's get on with things. We can
have fish and bread later, but now....now, let's talk.
Satan: By all means. How terrible of me. Please, continue.
Jesus: The other day, Ishmael comes to me...
[Enter Agent 665 with a plate of bread and fish balls, and a bottle of wine.]
Agent 665: Here we are, Gentlemen!
Jesus: [Rolling his eyes] Thank you...
Goon #1: Could ya' pass the challah, boss?
Jesus: [Staring at the goon in amazement] Murray, forget the challah! Eat on your own time.
[Under his breath] Schmuck. Anyways, Ishmael comes to me the other day and
says to me, 'Hey, Boss, Satan is making bleeding sculptures for the priests. I thought
this was our job!' So, I says to myself 'How could this be? This very good friend of
mine? Renting out bleeding sculptures with my face on them? This can't be true of
this person.'
Satan: Outrageous!
Agent 665: Yes, that's crazy. [Looks briefly at Satan who looks back at him.]
Jesus: That's good, boys....
Goon #2: [With a mouth full of food] Yeah, that's good for them! Tell 'em, Boss!
Jesus: I'm tellin' 'em, already! Don't talk wit' your mouth full! [Smacks Goon #2] Like I was
sayin', that's good. Because if'n I ever found out someone was tryin' to move in on my
business - you know what I would do?
Satan: Make them watch Ishtar?
Agent 665: Good one! [Satan and Agent 665 discreetly high-five and snicker at each other
in agreement]
Jesus: Gentlemen, I don't think you are taking this seriously. [Takes a fish ball and tosses it
into his mouth] and when I don't think someone isn't taking me seriously, it makes
me angry. [Clears his throat and grabs another fsh ball] Listen, if I find out you've
been making anything, ...and I mean ANYTHNG for the priests, I will send you back
to work for Disney until the sun explodes. Get me? [Eats the second fish ball and
coughs]
Satan: Yeah, I got it. Geez!
Agent 665: [Winces]
Jesus: Excuse me, you little punk? [Coughs heartily now]
Agent 665: Jesus, have a glass of wine. [Pours a glass of wine for Jesus]
Jesus: [Coughing] Thank you, my son. [Drinks the wine and clears his throat] Four billion
years and you still haven't learned any manners? Satan, what have you been doing
with yourself? Look at you. Who do you think you are? Mel Gibson? [Begins
coughing again]
Satan: Lord of the Pit?
Jesus: You're about ...[Coughs profusely]
Goon #1: Boss....[Both goons stand up]
Goon #2: You don't look so good, boss. [Satan and Agent 665 look at each other briefly]
Jesus: [Feeling nautious, stops coughing for a moment] You know boys, you're right. I don't
feel well. [Begins coughing again; shoots an angry look at Satan and Agent 665]
Goon #1: Come on, Boss. Let's get you some rest.
Goon #2: Yeah, you got yourself all worked up and stuff.
[The goons help the coughing Jesus up out of his chair]
Jesus: [Struggling to hold his breath] This ain't over, you two. I'll be back.
Satan: I'll have my people call you in three days.
Goon #1: Hey, don't get so smart, wise guy, or I'll twist your horns backwards to poke you in
your ass.
Goon #2: [Chuckles oafishly; Jesus begins to cough again]
[Exit Jesus]
[Exit Goon#1]
[Exit Goon #2]
Satan: [Awestruck] What the HELL just happened?
Agent 665: Umm, I think we just pissed off the son of god.
Satan: [Picks up a fish ball and looks at it] What did you put in these?
Agent 665: Just what you said: fish balls.
Satan: [Pausing in disbelief] You put WHAT in these?
Agent 665: You said bring in some wine and fish balls.
Satan: You fed the son of God the balls of a fish? I didn't even know fish had balls!
Agent 665: How was I supposed to know? I mean, he fed everybody with fish!
Satan: Yeah, sure, but he never ate any himself.
Agent 665: Ahh, right. Eww, ok, my bad. [Sighs] So, what do we do now?
Satan: We? No, sir. Me! I'll be enjoying margaritas off the tits of a dragon on the beaches
of Titan in about two hours. You will likely be left to polish Mickey's one good eye
as he hits an eightball or two off of Alice's Teacups. Sounds, great, but no thank you!
Agent 665: What the hell, man?
Satan: [Mockingly Singing] Oh, I'm the Devil and I don't care!
Agent 665: I've organized your social calendar and appointments, I've laughed at your stupid
jokes, cooked and fed you, and let's not forget that case of Velorian Herpes you got
from that overly-fertile whatever-you-call-them-things...
Satan: It was a Chocolate H'gruk Gruk.
Agent 665: ...that's it! A Chocolate [stumbling over the words] H'gruk Gruk, which I still
don't know how that happened since there were no holes in her body.
Satan: There is now! [Laughs at himself]
Agent 665: ...
Satan: What? It's all in the wrist! [Looks at his watch] Speaking of....I'm famished. Let's get
something to eat.
Agent 665: [Pouting] Have some fish balls.
Satan: Yeah, well, I think I'm going to go out tonight. Want I should pick you up something?
Agent 665: Really?
Satan: Hell, no! [Cackles]
[Exit Satan]
[End Scene]
[Scene III: On The Moon of Titan]
[Satan awaits one of his mistresses while conducting business on the phone]
Satan: [Talking on the phone and pacing] Listen, Benny, I appreciate your interest in our
product but upping the number of bleeding Jesus sculptures from one to seven can
upset the balance of things if we don't space these things out.
...
Seriously, you're going to coach me on the business of evil, now?
...
Benny...[Trying to interrupt]...Benny, no dice, man. Listen, I got another call coming
in - I got to take this. I'll send you the first one on Thursday in Brooklyn, NY. Bye!
[Answers the second caller]
[In a pleasant voice] Prince of Darkness.....?
...
Mr. President! Good to hear from you. What can I do for you?
...
Wait a minute, ... ok....ok! Slow down!
...
Well, who cares if the Republicans are stonewalling you?
...
Uh huh...? I tell you what, [Sighs] I'll talk to Sarah tomorrow and see if she'll consider
it, and if that doesn't work, we'll send in the Tea Partyers.
...
Yeah, I know they're racist but they hate Republicans. After all, the enemy of my
enemy....Tell me about it! Hey, listen, I got company on the way. I'll talk to you
later, k? Ok, Barack, talk to you soon. Buh-bye.
[Hangs up]
[There's a knock at the door; Satan answers]
Baby, am I glad to see you!
Lilith: Satan! [Kisses Satan on the cheek and enters]
Satan: How long has it been? Two? Two and a half thousand years?
Lilith: [Sings a stanza from Barbara Streisand's You Don't Bring Me Flowers]
"You don't bring me flowers, you don't write me love songs...."
Satan: Yeah, yeah, I know. I've been busy.
Lilith: Busy? Too busy for me?
Satan: Listen, it's been a busy year. Can't get a decent concierge anywhere, I got the pope
breathing down my neck about miracles, and I got a country to run among other
things.
Lilith: Sounds like you need a little stress reliever.
[Seductively rubs his chest and looks at him]
Satan: Exactly. To top things off, I got this Jesus thing to deal with.
Lilith: I thought we killed him once before?
Satan: We did, but the fucker rose from the dead after a three-day drunken tirade through
the City of Dis. Now he says I owe him or something.
Lilith: I don't see you for a couple thousand years, and all I get is whining. Where's the guy
who rode a river of lava through the streets of Pompeii just so he could get even heat
on his marshmallows so they wouldn't burn on one side?
Satan: [Grins] Yeah, that was fun...
Lilith: Allright now, come over here and give some sugar to your favorite temptress.
Satan: [Kisses Lilith; Phone rings again] Goddamnit! I got to take this, one moment.
[Answers phone]
Bill, how's it going? Uh huh? Yep. Yep. Ok, did you clear your cookies? Ok, after
you saw the blue screen, did you restart the computer? Ok, try that.
[Makes a silly face as he counts the moments]
That worked? Good deal, man. Hey, no problem, it's all part of the contract. Ok,
talk to you later.
[Hangs up]
Ok, now where were we?
Lilith: Heating marshmallows....? [Smiles seductively]
Satan: Oh, yeah...[Leans in for a kiss; the phone rings again] Son of a bitch! This shit
didn't happen when I wasn't doing this all myself. That's it.
[Snaps his fingers; there's a knock at the door]
Lilith: [Answering the door; talking to Satan] Oh, darling, you ordered room service....
Satan: Get in here and answer these calls, thrull!
Agent 665: [Phone continues to ring] Answer it yourself.
Satan: Listen, if you don't shut this ringing phone up I'm going to flay you over an open pit.
Lilith: Satan, dearest, it appears you're busy....
Satan: No, just hold on, Lilith.
Agent 665: [Folds his arms] I don't care. Not until you apologize.
Lilith: Ok, this is lame on so many levels.
[Exits flipping the bird to Satan and slamming the door]
Satan: [Exasperated; stomping his feet] Damn, damn, damn, DDDAAAAMMMNNN!
[Shoots an angry stare at Agent 665 and points a finger] You! You're the cause
of this!
Agent 665: Do what you will, but no apology, no help.
[Closes his eyes in anticipation of being struck by Satan]
Satan: [Raising a fist to beat Agent 665 and then pausing] Ok, asshole, I'm sorry! Now, can
you please just answer this damn phone?!
Agent 665: [Smiles, and takes the phone from Satan] Prince of Darkness, Lord of the Pit!...
Absolutely not! Well, I'm afraid that will just have to do, Mister Ill. He is out of the
office until Monday at the earliest...I don't care if you are the leader of North Korea!
Ok, well, that is just rude. Good day, sir!
...
I said good day, sir!
[Hangs up]
Satan: Now, that's what I'm talking about!
Agent 665: You damn right it is.
Satan: NOW, I can get back to doing what I do best....
Agent 665: Space Invaders?
Satan: Damn right. You going to be player two?
Agent 665: What about Lilith?
Satan: She hates this thing.
Agent 665: Then, in that case, damn right!
[Both sit down and grab a controller]
This time you're going down!
Satan: In your dreams, cockboy!
[Fade to Black]
[End Scene III]
[End Act]
Invino Veritas
9/24/11
EOF
[SceneI: The Throneroom]
[Satan and his new agent, Agent 665, are in his throne room going over the agenda.]
Agent 665: Allright, first item. You have a 9:30 appointment with a Mr. Daniels for violin
lessons.
Satan: Violin lessons? What the hell kind of evil is that? In fact, that's really NOT evil. That's
just stupid.
Agent 665: [Waving his hands] Something about Georgia and Golden Fiddles, and some kid
named "Johnny"....the information is really kind of sketchy.
Satan: Burn them! Burn the piss out of them!
Agent 655: Well, if we did that....[looks at his sheet of paper] we will lose 67%, roughly, of
our profits from eBay. Those little trailer rats love useless crap.
Satan: Oh. Can't we just singe them a bit then?
Agent 665: No. Besides, the commissioner of the Southeastern Conference is in Georgia.
His contract doesn't expire until 2017.
Satan: Damn! Damn! Damn! [Pounds his fist]
Agent 665: Ok, next order of business. The Vatican has decided to up its original requests
for bleeding Jesus sculpture from one a year to seven. And they are also requesting
an extension of the rental agreements for the souls of lecherous priests.
Satan: Absolutely not on the first. What are they offering on the second?
Agent 665: A 'Nuns of the Convent' yearly calendar, a Civil War commemorative chess set,
a subscription to the cheese of the month club, and 25% off at Hot Topic.
Satan: Did you say 'Nuns of the Convent"? And cheese?
Agent 665: Yup!
Satan: I certainly do love nuns and cheese....
Agent 665: ...and it's a pretty nice chess set, too.
Satan: [Thinks for a moment] Ok. tell them yes, but only an extra month. Meanwhile, I want
the calendar over there next to the throne, the cheese on one of those big silver
platters over there [Points], and funnel the rest to our eBay store. No, wait. Forward
the discount card to Golgotha; she may need spare parts.
Agent 665: Very good, sir. Next item: Jesus called. He wants to sit down.
Satan: Again?! We just did that two millenia ago next Tuesday.
Agent 665: He's really pretty adamant about this. We really should pencil him in. How about
three o'clock in the main conference hall? We'll just cancel your weekly round of golf
with Tiger Woods. Besides, we can always reschedule.
Satan: [Sighs] Fine! Damn!
Agent 665: We can always set it for another time....
Satan: No, damnit! Let's get this stupid crap over with! In fact, bump it up to umm...noontime.
We'll make it a lunch thing. That way I can still play golf. I got your ass this time, Tiger!
[Raises fist to the air]
Agent 665: Ok, that should cover everything for today.
Satan: Let's see, what time is it? [Looks at his watch] Ahh, 8:45. Time for a quick sulphur
rinse, and then off to the races!
Agent 665: As you wish, sire.
[Exit Satan]
[End Scene]
[Scene II: The Main Conference Hall of Hell]
[Satan and Agent 665 awaits Jesus and his men.]
[Satan is reading Reader's Digest Magzine]
[Agent 665 is picking his nose and trying to flick it off his fingertip]
Satan: [Chuckling] Oh, Reader's Digest, laughter really is the best medicine!
[Closes the magazine.]
Where are they?! It's almost 1:00 for chrissakes!
Agent 665: [Chuckling]
Satan: What?
Agent 665: Nothing. You just said 'christ's sake'....
Satan: Oh, yeah, Ha!. That's pretty funny, actually.
Agent 665: Yeah...
[Enter Jesus and his two goons]
Jesus: Satan!
Satan: Jesus! Wonderful to see you! I hope the flight was to your liking?
Jesus: Eh. It was ok. A little bumpy around the tokhes, but ok.
Satan: You want I should fetch a charioteer for you next time? You haven't traveled to the
Underworld until you've done it by chariot!
Jesus: Oh, you musn't trouble. I'll be fine! I'll just get another one. Dad's got tons of extras.
I was thinking of something athletic and Nigerian. [Poses and looks at his rear end]
Satan: Why mess with perfection?
Agent 665: [Ushering towards a table and chairs] Gentlemen? Shall we?
Satan: [Sits down at the head of the table] Have some challah made fresh this morning,
Jesus. You're a wine man, aren't you? Wine all around! And bring some of those
fish ball things, too.
Agent 665: As you wish, sire.
[Exit Agent 665]
Jesus: Really, Satan, you worry too much. Forget me! Let's get on with things. We can
have fish and bread later, but now....now, let's talk.
Satan: By all means. How terrible of me. Please, continue.
Jesus: The other day, Ishmael comes to me...
[Enter Agent 665 with a plate of bread and fish balls, and a bottle of wine.]
Agent 665: Here we are, Gentlemen!
Jesus: [Rolling his eyes] Thank you...
Goon #1: Could ya' pass the challah, boss?
Jesus: [Staring at the goon in amazement] Murray, forget the challah! Eat on your own time.
[Under his breath] Schmuck. Anyways, Ishmael comes to me the other day and
says to me, 'Hey, Boss, Satan is making bleeding sculptures for the priests. I thought
this was our job!' So, I says to myself 'How could this be? This very good friend of
mine? Renting out bleeding sculptures with my face on them? This can't be true of
this person.'
Satan: Outrageous!
Agent 665: Yes, that's crazy. [Looks briefly at Satan who looks back at him.]
Jesus: That's good, boys....
Goon #2: [With a mouth full of food] Yeah, that's good for them! Tell 'em, Boss!
Jesus: I'm tellin' 'em, already! Don't talk wit' your mouth full! [Smacks Goon #2] Like I was
sayin', that's good. Because if'n I ever found out someone was tryin' to move in on my
business - you know what I would do?
Satan: Make them watch Ishtar?
Agent 665: Good one! [Satan and Agent 665 discreetly high-five and snicker at each other
in agreement]
Jesus: Gentlemen, I don't think you are taking this seriously. [Takes a fish ball and tosses it
into his mouth] and when I don't think someone isn't taking me seriously, it makes
me angry. [Clears his throat and grabs another fsh ball] Listen, if I find out you've
been making anything, ...and I mean ANYTHNG for the priests, I will send you back
to work for Disney until the sun explodes. Get me? [Eats the second fish ball and
coughs]
Satan: Yeah, I got it. Geez!
Agent 665: [Winces]
Jesus: Excuse me, you little punk? [Coughs heartily now]
Agent 665: Jesus, have a glass of wine. [Pours a glass of wine for Jesus]
Jesus: [Coughing] Thank you, my son. [Drinks the wine and clears his throat] Four billion
years and you still haven't learned any manners? Satan, what have you been doing
with yourself? Look at you. Who do you think you are? Mel Gibson? [Begins
coughing again]
Satan: Lord of the Pit?
Jesus: You're about ...[Coughs profusely]
Goon #1: Boss....[Both goons stand up]
Goon #2: You don't look so good, boss. [Satan and Agent 665 look at each other briefly]
Jesus: [Feeling nautious, stops coughing for a moment] You know boys, you're right. I don't
feel well. [Begins coughing again; shoots an angry look at Satan and Agent 665]
Goon #1: Come on, Boss. Let's get you some rest.
Goon #2: Yeah, you got yourself all worked up and stuff.
[The goons help the coughing Jesus up out of his chair]
Jesus: [Struggling to hold his breath] This ain't over, you two. I'll be back.
Satan: I'll have my people call you in three days.
Goon #1: Hey, don't get so smart, wise guy, or I'll twist your horns backwards to poke you in
your ass.
Goon #2: [Chuckles oafishly; Jesus begins to cough again]
[Exit Jesus]
[Exit Goon#1]
[Exit Goon #2]
Satan: [Awestruck] What the HELL just happened?
Agent 665: Umm, I think we just pissed off the son of god.
Satan: [Picks up a fish ball and looks at it] What did you put in these?
Agent 665: Just what you said: fish balls.
Satan: [Pausing in disbelief] You put WHAT in these?
Agent 665: You said bring in some wine and fish balls.
Satan: You fed the son of God the balls of a fish? I didn't even know fish had balls!
Agent 665: How was I supposed to know? I mean, he fed everybody with fish!
Satan: Yeah, sure, but he never ate any himself.
Agent 665: Ahh, right. Eww, ok, my bad. [Sighs] So, what do we do now?
Satan: We? No, sir. Me! I'll be enjoying margaritas off the tits of a dragon on the beaches
of Titan in about two hours. You will likely be left to polish Mickey's one good eye
as he hits an eightball or two off of Alice's Teacups. Sounds, great, but no thank you!
Agent 665: What the hell, man?
Satan: [Mockingly Singing] Oh, I'm the Devil and I don't care!
Agent 665: I've organized your social calendar and appointments, I've laughed at your stupid
jokes, cooked and fed you, and let's not forget that case of Velorian Herpes you got
from that overly-fertile whatever-you-call-them-things...
Satan: It was a Chocolate H'gruk Gruk.
Agent 665: ...that's it! A Chocolate [stumbling over the words] H'gruk Gruk, which I still
don't know how that happened since there were no holes in her body.
Satan: There is now! [Laughs at himself]
Agent 665: ...
Satan: What? It's all in the wrist! [Looks at his watch] Speaking of....I'm famished. Let's get
something to eat.
Agent 665: [Pouting] Have some fish balls.
Satan: Yeah, well, I think I'm going to go out tonight. Want I should pick you up something?
Agent 665: Really?
Satan: Hell, no! [Cackles]
[Exit Satan]
[End Scene]
[Scene III: On The Moon of Titan]
[Satan awaits one of his mistresses while conducting business on the phone]
Satan: [Talking on the phone and pacing] Listen, Benny, I appreciate your interest in our
product but upping the number of bleeding Jesus sculptures from one to seven can
upset the balance of things if we don't space these things out.
...
Seriously, you're going to coach me on the business of evil, now?
...
Benny...[Trying to interrupt]...Benny, no dice, man. Listen, I got another call coming
in - I got to take this. I'll send you the first one on Thursday in Brooklyn, NY. Bye!
[Answers the second caller]
[In a pleasant voice] Prince of Darkness.....?
...
Mr. President! Good to hear from you. What can I do for you?
...
Wait a minute, ... ok....ok! Slow down!
...
Well, who cares if the Republicans are stonewalling you?
...
Uh huh...? I tell you what, [Sighs] I'll talk to Sarah tomorrow and see if she'll consider
it, and if that doesn't work, we'll send in the Tea Partyers.
...
Yeah, I know they're racist but they hate Republicans. After all, the enemy of my
enemy....Tell me about it! Hey, listen, I got company on the way. I'll talk to you
later, k? Ok, Barack, talk to you soon. Buh-bye.
[Hangs up]
[There's a knock at the door; Satan answers]
Baby, am I glad to see you!
Lilith: Satan! [Kisses Satan on the cheek and enters]
Satan: How long has it been? Two? Two and a half thousand years?
Lilith: [Sings a stanza from Barbara Streisand's You Don't Bring Me Flowers]
"You don't bring me flowers, you don't write me love songs...."
Satan: Yeah, yeah, I know. I've been busy.
Lilith: Busy? Too busy for me?
Satan: Listen, it's been a busy year. Can't get a decent concierge anywhere, I got the pope
breathing down my neck about miracles, and I got a country to run among other
things.
Lilith: Sounds like you need a little stress reliever.
[Seductively rubs his chest and looks at him]
Satan: Exactly. To top things off, I got this Jesus thing to deal with.
Lilith: I thought we killed him once before?
Satan: We did, but the fucker rose from the dead after a three-day drunken tirade through
the City of Dis. Now he says I owe him or something.
Lilith: I don't see you for a couple thousand years, and all I get is whining. Where's the guy
who rode a river of lava through the streets of Pompeii just so he could get even heat
on his marshmallows so they wouldn't burn on one side?
Satan: [Grins] Yeah, that was fun...
Lilith: Allright now, come over here and give some sugar to your favorite temptress.
Satan: [Kisses Lilith; Phone rings again] Goddamnit! I got to take this, one moment.
[Answers phone]
Bill, how's it going? Uh huh? Yep. Yep. Ok, did you clear your cookies? Ok, after
you saw the blue screen, did you restart the computer? Ok, try that.
[Makes a silly face as he counts the moments]
That worked? Good deal, man. Hey, no problem, it's all part of the contract. Ok,
talk to you later.
[Hangs up]
Ok, now where were we?
Lilith: Heating marshmallows....? [Smiles seductively]
Satan: Oh, yeah...[Leans in for a kiss; the phone rings again] Son of a bitch! This shit
didn't happen when I wasn't doing this all myself. That's it.
[Snaps his fingers; there's a knock at the door]
Lilith: [Answering the door; talking to Satan] Oh, darling, you ordered room service....
Satan: Get in here and answer these calls, thrull!
Agent 665: [Phone continues to ring] Answer it yourself.
Satan: Listen, if you don't shut this ringing phone up I'm going to flay you over an open pit.
Lilith: Satan, dearest, it appears you're busy....
Satan: No, just hold on, Lilith.
Agent 665: [Folds his arms] I don't care. Not until you apologize.
Lilith: Ok, this is lame on so many levels.
[Exits flipping the bird to Satan and slamming the door]
Satan: [Exasperated; stomping his feet] Damn, damn, damn, DDDAAAAMMMNNN!
[Shoots an angry stare at Agent 665 and points a finger] You! You're the cause
of this!
Agent 665: Do what you will, but no apology, no help.
[Closes his eyes in anticipation of being struck by Satan]
Satan: [Raising a fist to beat Agent 665 and then pausing] Ok, asshole, I'm sorry! Now, can
you please just answer this damn phone?!
Agent 665: [Smiles, and takes the phone from Satan] Prince of Darkness, Lord of the Pit!...
Absolutely not! Well, I'm afraid that will just have to do, Mister Ill. He is out of the
office until Monday at the earliest...I don't care if you are the leader of North Korea!
Ok, well, that is just rude. Good day, sir!
...
I said good day, sir!
[Hangs up]
Satan: Now, that's what I'm talking about!
Agent 665: You damn right it is.
Satan: NOW, I can get back to doing what I do best....
Agent 665: Space Invaders?
Satan: Damn right. You going to be player two?
Agent 665: What about Lilith?
Satan: She hates this thing.
Agent 665: Then, in that case, damn right!
[Both sit down and grab a controller]
This time you're going down!
Satan: In your dreams, cockboy!
[Fade to Black]
[End Scene III]
[End Act]
Invino Veritas
9/24/11
EOF
Random Pies on the Window Sill
9/19/11
---------
1. I should remind myself to write the book entitled "Songs That Should Never Be Sung
Aloud To Anyone Ever". This will be a collection of inappropriate, crude, lewd,
gauche, common, and otherwise lowbrow songs meant for purposes of humour and
just to simply get them out of my head. Their lyrical patterns will follow the ones
found in many popular songs. In all likelihood, it will probably become nothing more
than "Invino's Big Book of Dirty Poems".
2. This should probably be called "Random Cow Pies In The Field".
3. Remind me to make a Christmas version of "Songs That Should Never Be Sung Aloud To
Anyone Ever". Naturally, it should be narrated by Morgan Freeman.
4. I knew I was right; Courtney Gains was in both 'Children of the Corn' and 'Hardbodies'.
5. Man, never got any REM sleep last night. I hate it when this happens. Layed there for
four hours in a semi-sleep state until 6:30 this morning. I've a feeling this is going to
affect my Monday Night Football ventures.
6. I've a feeling that I'm going to end up getting denatured alcohol in my eye. My eye itches,
and I have the alcohol on my fingers at the moment.
7. After listening to a bunch of Cabaret bands and singers on last.fm, I've realized a few
things. Most all of them are really crappy. Voltaire is awesome. Vermillion Lies ain't
bad. Abney Park is pretty decent. But the rest of it sounds like butt. I would happily
recommend some Voltaire, however. Oh, and Jason Webley seems to be pretty decent,
too.
8. Everyone should know people of the following five occupations: Police Officer, Lawyer,
Doctor, Mechanic, and a Computer Guy. These seem like people who you will inevitably
find yourself paying at one point in your life within modern society unless you have a
friend.
9/20/11
---------
1. I feel like I'm in a creative lull. I wonder if it may be that I'm not putting myself into
situations that serve as impetus for my creativity. Hmm.
2. Zombina and the Skeletons are cool. Check 'em here.
3. I really wonder about the inspiration that people have for their band names. For example:
Black Math Horseman, The Peculiar Pretzelman, The Mystic Knights of the Oingo
Boingo, and, my favorite, Honest Bob and the Factory-to-Dealer Incentives.
4. I wonder if the band 'The Last Days of Jesus' mean their music to be listened before,
during, or after Passover. And are they talking about the first or second time? This is
so confusing.
5. Given the amount of MSG in Chinese cuisine in the U.S., I wonder if I could rub some Lo
Mein on some day-old cantaloupe and bring back the color in the fruit. After all, Fruit
Fresh was nothing more than MSG, which, by the way, you can buy in your spice aisle.
6. Clockhammer was one of the best bands of which you never heard.
7. I think I deserve to be upset to a slight degree if I sit in my chair for an hour with my fly
down a nobody brings it to my attention. Especially when I already know.
9/21/11
---------
1. Ok, Facebook. You may wonder why I decided to post this one Google's service. It's for
the same reason every infinitesimal chunk of substance that I still like about Facebook is
being wittled away piece by piece with every stupid change you make to the interface. If I
want to drive to the store in my hometown, the city doesn't change the route every few
weeks. The things that I found attractive about using your service are slowly disappearing
with every change. You need to realize that I, among others, don't need you. What will we
do without you? The same damn thing we did before you, and maybe more. With the
competition that has sprung upvwith your success, you can't afford to drive the mainstays
away. But I have a minor solution forvyou: institute a classic view. Otherwise, the more
infrequent I hear from you, the better.
2. There is a suprising amount of people in this world who will attempt to tell intelligent,
smart, creative, and talented people that they are ignorant. I'm reminded of ex-KGB
agent Yuri Bezmenov's explanation of 'normalization', or the changing of a nation over
a period of time to one's own idea of truth, fact, and definition. You can catch some
of Yuri's interviews on Youtube, by the way. It's actually pretty good, and really kind
of depressing and scary.
3. 'Breaking Bad' is an excellent show. It's interesting, comical at times, and it has a different
sort of feel than most shows. But, unlike many other shows I like, it's not very inspiring.
Usually, I feel like I may have creative surges when I start watching or engaging in
something, but not with this show. It's kind of strange, actually. No, I'm not saying I
borrow from these other shows. Think of it more like applying the heat to cook your
dinner. It just gets the juices flowing.
4. I really should apply myself towards getting another scene, at the very least, to the play.
5. I think I need a priest or a rabbi. These printers are surely spawns of the devil, and must
be blessed and/or exorcised.
6. Too bad brass isn't worth a ton of money. I could be swimming in dough right about
now from all this brass lying around in these spare parts.
7. What if it's not that our perspective on time changes a we get older but rather the temporal
stream changes as we get older? Say, for example, it's not that time flies when we get
older, but it's actually "covering less ground' as it reaches its own finality. I think Ted
Theodore Logan just said 'Whoa."
8. I fought the Taco Bell 12-Pack, and the 12-Pack won. I'll have to write that Kobayashi guy
and learn his training secrets. I'll be back, damn you! You can't escape me forever! (This is
me shaking my fist on a blog service.)
9. I made a clerical error yesterday: it's Zombina and the Skeletones.
10. The Creepshow is pretty cool, too. The band, not the show or movie.
9/22/11
---------
1. Taken from a recent Classifieds listing: "FS: Squeaky Shoes". Really? This is a
selling point?
2. Man, my back has been feeling pretty good the past couple of days. I wonder why. Hmm.
3. Man, Kyle Thomas's (Alabama Thunderpussy) voice is monstrous. The guy is a beast.
4. I think if I replace one more printer base I'm going to end up in the bell tower with a rifle.
5. Today, I worked on the second installment or act or fourth scene or whatever of something
that began on here as a whim of three scenes and one act called "Devilishly
Departmental: A Farce". It's called "Devilishly Departmental: Part Deux". I wrote nearly
two entire scenes of what should probably be three scenes. This is why there's probably
not going to be as much content under this date in this post.
9/23/11
----------
1. Damn I'm tired.
2. When martian kids look at the night sky, do they see the martian in the earth?
3. When the tooth is long,
And the beard is gray,
When the moon is bright,
And the sun goes away,
The stars do shine,
Lighting silver bristles,
Shining the way,
For tiny silver missiles.
4. "You can't have everything; Where would you put it?" (Steven Wright)
5. So if neutrinos can go faster than the speed of light, how could we harness that if
they pass through all tangible matter?
6. "Son, you put the 'shit' in shit."
7. The end.
---------
1. I should remind myself to write the book entitled "Songs That Should Never Be Sung
Aloud To Anyone Ever". This will be a collection of inappropriate, crude, lewd,
gauche, common, and otherwise lowbrow songs meant for purposes of humour and
just to simply get them out of my head. Their lyrical patterns will follow the ones
found in many popular songs. In all likelihood, it will probably become nothing more
than "Invino's Big Book of Dirty Poems".
2. This should probably be called "Random Cow Pies In The Field".
3. Remind me to make a Christmas version of "Songs That Should Never Be Sung Aloud To
Anyone Ever". Naturally, it should be narrated by Morgan Freeman.
4. I knew I was right; Courtney Gains was in both 'Children of the Corn' and 'Hardbodies'.
5. Man, never got any REM sleep last night. I hate it when this happens. Layed there for
four hours in a semi-sleep state until 6:30 this morning. I've a feeling this is going to
affect my Monday Night Football ventures.
6. I've a feeling that I'm going to end up getting denatured alcohol in my eye. My eye itches,
and I have the alcohol on my fingers at the moment.
7. After listening to a bunch of Cabaret bands and singers on last.fm, I've realized a few
things. Most all of them are really crappy. Voltaire is awesome. Vermillion Lies ain't
bad. Abney Park is pretty decent. But the rest of it sounds like butt. I would happily
recommend some Voltaire, however. Oh, and Jason Webley seems to be pretty decent,
too.
8. Everyone should know people of the following five occupations: Police Officer, Lawyer,
Doctor, Mechanic, and a Computer Guy. These seem like people who you will inevitably
find yourself paying at one point in your life within modern society unless you have a
friend.
9/20/11
---------
1. I feel like I'm in a creative lull. I wonder if it may be that I'm not putting myself into
situations that serve as impetus for my creativity. Hmm.
2. Zombina and the Skeletons are cool. Check 'em here.
3. I really wonder about the inspiration that people have for their band names. For example:
Black Math Horseman, The Peculiar Pretzelman, The Mystic Knights of the Oingo
Boingo, and, my favorite, Honest Bob and the Factory-to-Dealer Incentives.
4. I wonder if the band 'The Last Days of Jesus' mean their music to be listened before,
during, or after Passover. And are they talking about the first or second time? This is
so confusing.
5. Given the amount of MSG in Chinese cuisine in the U.S., I wonder if I could rub some Lo
Mein on some day-old cantaloupe and bring back the color in the fruit. After all, Fruit
Fresh was nothing more than MSG, which, by the way, you can buy in your spice aisle.
6. Clockhammer was one of the best bands of which you never heard.
7. I think I deserve to be upset to a slight degree if I sit in my chair for an hour with my fly
down a nobody brings it to my attention. Especially when I already know.
9/21/11
---------
1. Ok, Facebook. You may wonder why I decided to post this one Google's service. It's for
the same reason every infinitesimal chunk of substance that I still like about Facebook is
being wittled away piece by piece with every stupid change you make to the interface. If I
want to drive to the store in my hometown, the city doesn't change the route every few
weeks. The things that I found attractive about using your service are slowly disappearing
with every change. You need to realize that I, among others, don't need you. What will we
do without you? The same damn thing we did before you, and maybe more. With the
competition that has sprung upvwith your success, you can't afford to drive the mainstays
away. But I have a minor solution forvyou: institute a classic view. Otherwise, the more
infrequent I hear from you, the better.
2. There is a suprising amount of people in this world who will attempt to tell intelligent,
smart, creative, and talented people that they are ignorant. I'm reminded of ex-KGB
agent Yuri Bezmenov's explanation of 'normalization', or the changing of a nation over
a period of time to one's own idea of truth, fact, and definition. You can catch some
of Yuri's interviews on Youtube, by the way. It's actually pretty good, and really kind
of depressing and scary.
3. 'Breaking Bad' is an excellent show. It's interesting, comical at times, and it has a different
sort of feel than most shows. But, unlike many other shows I like, it's not very inspiring.
Usually, I feel like I may have creative surges when I start watching or engaging in
something, but not with this show. It's kind of strange, actually. No, I'm not saying I
borrow from these other shows. Think of it more like applying the heat to cook your
dinner. It just gets the juices flowing.
4. I really should apply myself towards getting another scene, at the very least, to the play.
5. I think I need a priest or a rabbi. These printers are surely spawns of the devil, and must
be blessed and/or exorcised.
6. Too bad brass isn't worth a ton of money. I could be swimming in dough right about
now from all this brass lying around in these spare parts.
7. What if it's not that our perspective on time changes a we get older but rather the temporal
stream changes as we get older? Say, for example, it's not that time flies when we get
older, but it's actually "covering less ground' as it reaches its own finality. I think Ted
Theodore Logan just said 'Whoa."
8. I fought the Taco Bell 12-Pack, and the 12-Pack won. I'll have to write that Kobayashi guy
and learn his training secrets. I'll be back, damn you! You can't escape me forever! (This is
me shaking my fist on a blog service.)
9. I made a clerical error yesterday: it's Zombina and the Skeletones.
10. The Creepshow is pretty cool, too. The band, not the show or movie.
9/22/11
---------
1. Taken from a recent Classifieds listing: "FS: Squeaky Shoes". Really? This is a
selling point?
2. Man, my back has been feeling pretty good the past couple of days. I wonder why. Hmm.
3. Man, Kyle Thomas's (Alabama Thunderpussy) voice is monstrous. The guy is a beast.
4. I think if I replace one more printer base I'm going to end up in the bell tower with a rifle.
5. Today, I worked on the second installment or act or fourth scene or whatever of something
that began on here as a whim of three scenes and one act called "Devilishly
Departmental: A Farce". It's called "Devilishly Departmental: Part Deux". I wrote nearly
two entire scenes of what should probably be three scenes. This is why there's probably
not going to be as much content under this date in this post.
9/23/11
----------
1. Damn I'm tired.
2. When martian kids look at the night sky, do they see the martian in the earth?
3. When the tooth is long,
And the beard is gray,
When the moon is bright,
And the sun goes away,
The stars do shine,
Lighting silver bristles,
Shining the way,
For tiny silver missiles.
4. "You can't have everything; Where would you put it?" (Steven Wright)
5. So if neutrinos can go faster than the speed of light, how could we harness that if
they pass through all tangible matter?
6. "Son, you put the 'shit' in shit."
7. The end.
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