Sunday, January 28, 2007


~ It wasn't as stormy out as he might have hoped, but at least it was decently dark.
Aiden strode up to the doorway of the tiny shop with a kind of disconcerting carelessness. As always the place looked sinister. It had nothing to do with the weather, it just had an aura of the diabolical about it.
Aiden kept waiting for the day that he would fling open the door and be silhouetted for a brief moment by a timely flash of lightning, the rain blowing in around him, his long coat waving about his legs. But, unfortunately, the conditions had never been quite right and Aiden would rather it didn't happen at all then for it to seem slipshod. Yes, he could give the elements all the time they needed to get their act together.
With this in mind Aiden rang the bell rather then kicking in the door.
As you would expect, a wizened old man answered it. Aiden greeting him in a not unfriendly manner.
"Hello Mr. Patterson, I'm here to see your grandmother."
"Oh sure sonny, sure. Come on in, I'll let her know you're here."
In his prime he would have been a good head shorter then Aiden. Now it was at least twice that. He didn't have that much hair left, but the few courageous strands that had held their ground were swept across the rather large bare patch in the middle. The last outposts.
He left Aiden in the front of the shop while he hobbled to the curtain guarding the entrance to the tiny home beyond.
"Nana, The Boy is here to see you."
~ I made this!
A Selfish Production

Thursday, January 25, 2007

So I grew a set...

...Well not so much grew a set as found a set on the sidewalk. That's right, you heard me correctly. I have balls now. Sit down, let me tell ya the story.
Last week I found a set of balls on the sidewalk. They are black and hairy. In all likelihood fallen from those goofy boots that girls wear with the little bits of fur hanging off them. When I saw them I got quite a kick out of the immediate thought "Oh! Someone's lost they're balls!" but left them there as I continued on to class.
Later that evening I told Jenny the story. She brought up the fact that I should have touched them. Then I could say that I grabbed somebody's hairy balls that day. At that moment I began to seriously regret my previous lack of action and determined in my heart to look for the balls when I passed that point the next day.
And I found them! My balls were still there, though a bit dirty and huddled in the snow off the edge of the sidewalk. I will not make any reference to shrinkage here. Oops, to late.
So anyway, I am now the happy owner of a fine pair of balls! Let me tell ya, I couldn't be more proud!

~ Never hit a man with glasses. Hit him with your fist! ~

Sunday, January 21, 2007

I'm happy, I swear it...

...So I was thinking today about the enigma of relationships. I'd just like to say that there are some people in the world that are not diatomic. Quite frankly I think humanity in general would be better off if they weren't so absolutely absorbed in finding someone "to make them happy." If you are not happy with yourself, you'll never meet someone that will make the world bright and cheerful for you. And it bothers me when people think that they will find that.
Being someone who has been pressured many times to form romantic relationships, simply for the sake of saying that I have one apparently, I take offense. (If I just wanted to say it I would you know. I do routinely make things up for fun and profit.) I resent the idea that the general public would try to deny that I can be perfectly happy while single. I am, in fact, pretty darn perfectly happy.
Do I like complete isolation? No. But they did invent friends for a reason you know. (And guys, I value that more then you'll probably ever know. But that's another post.) I'll tell you what I do like. I like the fact that I am capable of enjoying solitude. I like the fact that my happiness doesn't depend on another human. I like the fact that beside me I have pieces of graph paper that have the plans that I have drawn for a house that I would like to build for myself someday. It has one bedroom. I imagine myself in it. Alone. And it's beautiful.
I'm happy, I swear it...

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Beautiful Desolation...

He hands me a flower. A daffodil. The nymph of spring. I can't keep playing my part in this charade. Is there a time when you have to be true to yourself at the cost of forsaking others? Does he know that this is a farce? Does he know that this has to end? Does he know that life is too short to waste?
He hands me a flower. A peace offering. He knows. He is not angry. He's walked this road. He feels the same.
He hands me a flower. A remembrance. I shall not forget you. You've given me joy.
He hands me a flower...and walks away.

This picture is from The photographer is yourworldasiseeit. I wrote what is beside it. Peace showed me the picture to try and prod some inspiration into life. I wrote what the picture made me think of. If the picture was mine I'd name it what I named this post. Beautiful Desolation. You can check out more of this artist's photography by clicking here.

Well guess who doesn't...

...completely suck at bowling! No not David Duchovny!* Me!
I went the other day with Kara (second time in my life) and played two games. My top score was 101! Prior to that my top score was 74. At this rate I'll be bowling 300's in no time. Of course I have absolutely no form, but that's ok as long as I win right?

*I actually don't know if David Duchovny is a good bowler or not. What I do know is that he is gosh darned good looking (I mean the man is fine!) and a good actor besides. (That man can cry to break your heart. Don't believe me? Watch the first 10 minutes of Return to Me.)

Sunday, January 14, 2007

An act of God?...

~ The insurance agent went to stand next to Aiden on the driveway.
"Yup, she doesn't look pretty." He confided knowingly.
Aiden looked askance at the short balding fellow. For the love of all that was good and holy! Not another one! He knew that somewhere, somewhere on the planet earth there must exist an insurance agent that was not irrevocably drawn to stating the moronically obvious. He turned to fully face the man.
"You know those are the exact words that I said to myself. Exactly."
"Uh, really?" The man looked at Aiden again. Aiden looked dead serious. But how serious could he be? He had a small tabby sitting in the front seat of his car. But then, she looked rather serious too. The insurance man stifled a laugh.
"Anyway, the inspector hasn't found any signs that there was structural instability, there were no quakes or tremors the day this happened. Fact is, your house seems to have just...exploded."
"You don't say?" Aiden tried to look thoughtful and speculative.
The insurance man peered at him closely, like you might do to a questionable black speck in your tapioca pudding.
"We're going to have some paperwork you'll need to fill out."
~ I made this!
A Selfish Production

~ "Hello and welcome to the 7:45 news, I'm Buttly Nightwax." ~
~ Peace

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Something old, something new...

~ Jared lay on his stomach completely still; his slow ragged breathing the only sound. The world began to take on an ethereal focus. The sweet, rusty taste of blood penetrated the fog when he tried to wet his cracked lips. Mist still shrouding his half conscious mind, he felt the cool, rough concrete beneath his cheek, the rest of his body achingly hot. Somewhere in the depths of his mind logic was still functioning and he thought that maybe his fever was breaking. What time was it? What day was it? He fought silently to try and rouse himself at least enough to see if he was still in the same room. It was a losing battle. He grappled against it but the black weight pressed in again, slowly, unrelentingly dragging him down. He finally gave in and the dead silence took him over. Back to the underworld for another night. ~
~ By me.

In May there will be a group of students accompanied by a couple professors going to Egypt for 20 whole days. They'll be touring the country, viewing history from the Ancients up to modern day. They'll get to visit the Valley of the Kings. Cruise the Nile. Visit Cairo and the Great Pyramids. They'll get to go into several tombs.
I am beside myself. That would be so inconceivably awesome! It would be amazing! It would be Egypt!
It's a bit over 4 grand to go though, and even though it would be worth 3 credits that's an awful expensive 3 credits.
Am I envious? Yes, yes I am.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Is surrender an option?...

~ The first thing Aiden saw upon entering his room was Adrasteia napping at her new post. On top of his pillow.
And the phone was ringing.
Aiden set down his foil encased steak au poivre and the phone silenced. His cell started two seconds later. His father. Aiden didn't pick up.
Adrasteia stood and stretched. Aiden set the little bowl of cream that the thoughtful maitre d' had included for his "leetle pussy cat" on the floor and called her over. Like any self-respecting feline she took her time and made sure that it looked like coming to Aiden was her idea.
Aiden sat on the edge of the bed and watched her lap at her little treat. His eye drifted to his duffle bags. The bellboy had set them up on the luggage racks as carefully as any matched, monogrammed leather set.
Aiden knew that, to plagiarize, resistance was futile. You can run but you can't hide. And running pretty much just insures that you die tired.
Aiden hadn't run from his fate since he'd been a boy. He'd always known it would be this way. Always. That didn't make it any easier for a child to accept though.
It's all me!
A Selfish Production

Monday, January 08, 2007

So far today...

...I've seen a grocery bag and a napkin go flying by my window. What with living on the 5th floor and all that's not really an everyday occurrence. It's rather reminiscent of the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy is looking out the window of her tornado ravaged house. Various pieces of debris fly past, then a chicken or two, then a cow, and finally the horrid Mrs. Gulch. And, while I am not expecting to see Mrs. Gulch cycling past my window at any moment, I have to say that I wouldn't be entirely shocked if she did either.

"There's no "i" in team, but there's also no "i" in post some crappy footage of yourself on the web." ~ Brett Erlich

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Care to sniff the cork sir?...

~ Aiden rang his insurance agent as soon as he and his tabby were checked into the hotel.
Yes, yes his house exploded. No, it wasn't burned down. No, he didn't know how it happened. Yes, he was sure it had exploded. Yes, he knew an investigation would be necessary. Yes, tomorrow would be fine.
He gently returned the phone to it's cradle and immediately it rang.
Aiden was expecting it.
Hello. Yes mom, he was fine. No, she didn't need to fly in, as he'd said in his message. Yes, he'd let her know as soon as he'd heard anything from the insurance. Oh, that's room service at the door. Gotta go.
Aiden sat on the bed for a bit. He went into the bathroom and unwrapped some little soaps. He reentered the bedroom and ate the mint that some hardworking, kindhearted housekeeper had left on his pillow. He untucked the sheets from the foot of the bed.
Aiden had rather claustrophobic feet.
Adrasteia sat observing from the window sill, her languid attention divided between Aiden and a tiny bird hopping about on the balcony, blissfully ignorant of how ridiculously thin the sheet of glass holding back it's feline predator was.
Adrasteia's tail twitched.
Aiden considered really calling room service. It was, after all, nearing lunch time. He rose decisively and strode into the hall, shutting the door with a satisfying click.
Aiden's gung-ho attitude only lasted through the appetizer.
The hotel dining room's authentic French maitre d' hovered over him like a nervous butterfly.
Aiden picked at his food noncommittally.
Was everything alright with Monsieur's entree? Yes, it was fine. Would Monsieur like a coffee instead of wine? A cup of coffee would be delightful.
Aiden was still bitter about not having his morning coffee.
Must the universe take everything from him?
But alas, he knew that there was no point in asking that question.
Aiden sipped at his coffee, and burned his tongue.
Aiden realized that he was what you might call upset. He thought though, that it would probably be difficult for anyone to come to terms with their house exploding, no matter their past experiences.
He lifted the delicate china creamer and noticed that his hand was shaking.
Aiden asked the attentive maitre d' if he could have his food wrapped.
~ Mine, gimme.
A Selfish Production

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

And he's back...

~ Aiden fished his cat out from under the holly bush and carried her to his car, placing her on the front seat beside his brief case.
Time to hit the hotel.
Aiden made his way around the remnants of his house to the small shed in the back corner of the yard. He pulled off the padlock and opened the door. He pushed his shiny, green lawn mower out of the way and reached for Adrasteia's carrier and the blue duffel bags that had been kept there since the day he'd moved in.
Naturally the universe could have taken out the shed as well, but this time it hadn't.
Aiden was used to keeping most everything of value to him on or quite near his person. His laptop, bankbook and personal documents traveled to and from work with him everyday. He insured everything.
He re-locked the shed and carried his bags to the car, placing them neatly in the back seat along with the carrier. Adrasteia watched calmly from atop his briefcase. For now he left her there as he went in search of a jump.
As luck would have it his blackberry thicket owning neighbor was using their paper boy's fantastically bad aim as an excuse to scope out Aiden's interesting predicament.
When he saw Aiden strolling toward him he put more energy into his supposed paper search.
A jump? Why certainly. Thicketman would be glad to give Aiden a jump.
Aiden found it incredibly amusing to watch Thicketman trying to come up with a way to ask him why his house was unusually flat this morning. Why he had overnight bags and a speculative looking tabby sitting in his Honda.
Unfortunately he was unable to come up with that particular conversation starter before the Honda was resuscitated.
His cables were disconnected, his hand shaken warmly. He was thanked politely for his assistance and given an unspoken, subtle, tactful and utterly unmistakable dismissal.
He got his car back to his own driveway and was making his way inside, paper completely forgotten, when he turned to look back at his neighbor.
Aiden, cat, Honda and duffel bags were gone.
~I made this!

A PS to my regular readers (doesn't that sound snazzy? Regular Readers...) I am sorry for not updating for almost the entirety of break but I have been quite busy. It's been a hectic time for me. Look for me more once school starts again.
Oh, and it's my birthday! And I'm gonna party like it's my birthday. Cause it is. I'm also going to take 21 fake shots. I do a pretty good fake drunk and I'd figured that I could then get fake alcohol poisoning and make a fake run to the emergency room. We may not have time for the last two activities but you can bet the farm that 21 fake shots are going down tonight.