Tuesday, March 27, 2007
ThrowinTheDogABone
Hello all and sorry for the slackin. Parish has been on an extended vacation(soon to be over I hope) and I've been incredibly busy and even more tired(on top of being busy there's still the childrens to look after while I'm not working...when Mommy is working anyway). I'm not as confident in me being any less busy with spring coming on and with it lawns and landscapings to do, but I will effort getting Parish jump started as soon as he gets back. With that in mind, you're patience is appreciated and please hang in there, we'll have some content for you soon. Later
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Indiana politics
Earlier this week, both the Indiana House and Senate passed refferendum votes to honor the Indianapolis Colts for winning the Superbowl. Why in Hell does the government need to pass a vote to honor the winning team. Are they afraid that if it's not voted on and passed that someone will get pissed, but that if it is voted on, then nobody can say anything about it? What in the name of Great Cthulhu is your tax money being spent on.
Friday, March 16, 2007
MMMMMMMM.....Beeeer
Think you like beer? Maybe not as much as John Kita. Check out his article from men's Health magazine..............(http://men.msn.com/articlemh.aspx?cp-documentid=3872767>1=9212&su=hotmail.com/cgi-bin/hmhome)
I'll effort getting some of my own recipes containing beer up soon. Anyone brew their own beer? Wanna share a recipe?
I'll effort getting some of my own recipes containing beer up soon. Anyone brew their own beer? Wanna share a recipe?
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Hunger(FTDParish)
The vines were everywhere, crisscrossing this way and that, in every direction as far as he could see. Which admittedly, wasn't that far. Although there was a conciderable amount of light coming in from above. Judging by the weathered ends of broken off trees and the amount of foliage covering the skeletal remains of those trees, a big wind had been through here in the last 2 or 3 years, skimming the hill tops, bending and breaking off limbs and tree tops across an area 30 ft wide or so. He guessed the next hill looked similar to this, but as tangled as this mess was, he may never know.
The shear number of vines was incredible. And their appearance was crazy. All fuzzy and thistley with velvety leaves. Some with thorns dripping sap.....downright venomous. Some as small as spaghetti, some like drinking straws, and others bigger and even bigger yet. All young and green. Still others were ropy, gnarly, thick as a man's wrist and all ropy. Those looked so old they prolly had arthritis.
Something brushed his cheek. He swatted it away. Damn bugs. He was gonna be scratching bug bites for a week.
He crawled and climbed, hurtled and slithered through the tangled underbrush for what seemed like hours, but was prolly really closer to half an hour and he had prolly only made it a quarter mile. At least he wasn't getting eaten alive by bugs anymore. He hadn't heard or seen one in a long time. Come to think of it, the whole woods was quiet. No bugs. No birds. No squirrells. Nothing. No sounds. No sights. Nothing. Just trees, living and dead, standing and fallen. Trees and vines and briars.
He was bleeding from scrapes and scratches. He was cut and bruised. He was tired and hungry. And he was thirsty....so thirsty.....And he was starting to get scared. He couldn't see the sun for all the foliage and so he couldn't even be sure he was going in the right direction anymore.....
And he needed to find some water.....soon. His throat was dry and full of dust. That "woods" dusty, gritty dirt. The "woods" dirt that gets everywhere and mixes with sweat and burns where the bark has scraped your skin away. That "woods" dirt that chafes a person in all the places he doesn't wanna be chafed.
He needed to find the road soon. Or at least a creek where he could put out the fire in his throat and wash the dirt outta his eyes and off his face. His eyes were getting gritty now and the profuse sweating in this backwoods sauna was waterlogging his clothes making them heavy and the chafing all the worse.....He swatted another bug from his face.
*************************************************************
Well he'd been out here for several hours for sure now, the sun was starting to go down and he'd gotten here mid afternoon. He was very dirty, very sore, very tired and very shitty.
He wanted some cold water, some cold tequila and a hot shower followed directly by alot more cold tequila......and maybe a big steak. A big juicy, bloody steak. He wouldn't even need a knife and fork. He'd use his hands, just pick it up and tear into it like an animal. Incisors and canines gnashing and tearing while molars grind......Blood dripping down his chin and onto his chest. Grunting and growling if anyone got too close to his meat. Feasting.
He shook the steak outta his head and the sweat outta his eyes. He trudged on, swatting another bug.
*************************************************************
He noticed again that the woods were still. Hadn't seen, heard or seen any sign of any animal all afternoon. And now that night was coming he especially noticed the lack of insect noise. Dusk around here was filled with insect love calls. Alot. And loud. But now, nothing. Where were all the animals anyway? Not even seen a sign of an animal for hours.
He swatted another bug away from the welts on his cheek..........another bug!? There weren't any bugs........welts on hus cheek!? When did he get welts, as his fingers brushed the wounds. Must've gotten his face while he was in the briars.
Something brushed his face. He slapped at it and whirled just in time to see a hanging tendril pulling away from him in the waning light. He managed to grab another as it stung the other side of his face. It hurt his hand.
It was one of those thistley ones. And it was wet, wet and stinging. His hand and face were on fire and the fire was creeping up his arm. He let go and stumled backwards. He tripped in the tangled underbrush, falling on his numbing hand. He fell into a briar patch. Each thorn hurt like being stuck with a white hot pin. There was a roaring in his ears and his head was swimming, the woods spinning above him. It was getting dark now. Real dark, not the kinda dark people get in cities. Real dark.
He was in enormous pain now.....well, pain that was already receding, he was scared and he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The vines were sending lightening bolts of pain down his throat as they continued to enter his mouth and slide down his wind pipe and esophagous, probing for his life.
The forest feasted.
The shear number of vines was incredible. And their appearance was crazy. All fuzzy and thistley with velvety leaves. Some with thorns dripping sap.....downright venomous. Some as small as spaghetti, some like drinking straws, and others bigger and even bigger yet. All young and green. Still others were ropy, gnarly, thick as a man's wrist and all ropy. Those looked so old they prolly had arthritis.
Something brushed his cheek. He swatted it away. Damn bugs. He was gonna be scratching bug bites for a week.
He crawled and climbed, hurtled and slithered through the tangled underbrush for what seemed like hours, but was prolly really closer to half an hour and he had prolly only made it a quarter mile. At least he wasn't getting eaten alive by bugs anymore. He hadn't heard or seen one in a long time. Come to think of it, the whole woods was quiet. No bugs. No birds. No squirrells. Nothing. No sounds. No sights. Nothing. Just trees, living and dead, standing and fallen. Trees and vines and briars.
He was bleeding from scrapes and scratches. He was cut and bruised. He was tired and hungry. And he was thirsty....so thirsty.....And he was starting to get scared. He couldn't see the sun for all the foliage and so he couldn't even be sure he was going in the right direction anymore.....
And he needed to find some water.....soon. His throat was dry and full of dust. That "woods" dusty, gritty dirt. The "woods" dirt that gets everywhere and mixes with sweat and burns where the bark has scraped your skin away. That "woods" dirt that chafes a person in all the places he doesn't wanna be chafed.
He needed to find the road soon. Or at least a creek where he could put out the fire in his throat and wash the dirt outta his eyes and off his face. His eyes were getting gritty now and the profuse sweating in this backwoods sauna was waterlogging his clothes making them heavy and the chafing all the worse.....He swatted another bug from his face.
*************************************************************
Well he'd been out here for several hours for sure now, the sun was starting to go down and he'd gotten here mid afternoon. He was very dirty, very sore, very tired and very shitty.
He wanted some cold water, some cold tequila and a hot shower followed directly by alot more cold tequila......and maybe a big steak. A big juicy, bloody steak. He wouldn't even need a knife and fork. He'd use his hands, just pick it up and tear into it like an animal. Incisors and canines gnashing and tearing while molars grind......Blood dripping down his chin and onto his chest. Grunting and growling if anyone got too close to his meat. Feasting.
He shook the steak outta his head and the sweat outta his eyes. He trudged on, swatting another bug.
*************************************************************
He noticed again that the woods were still. Hadn't seen, heard or seen any sign of any animal all afternoon. And now that night was coming he especially noticed the lack of insect noise. Dusk around here was filled with insect love calls. Alot. And loud. But now, nothing. Where were all the animals anyway? Not even seen a sign of an animal for hours.
He swatted another bug away from the welts on his cheek..........another bug!? There weren't any bugs........welts on hus cheek!? When did he get welts, as his fingers brushed the wounds. Must've gotten his face while he was in the briars.
Something brushed his face. He slapped at it and whirled just in time to see a hanging tendril pulling away from him in the waning light. He managed to grab another as it stung the other side of his face. It hurt his hand.
It was one of those thistley ones. And it was wet, wet and stinging. His hand and face were on fire and the fire was creeping up his arm. He let go and stumled backwards. He tripped in the tangled underbrush, falling on his numbing hand. He fell into a briar patch. Each thorn hurt like being stuck with a white hot pin. There was a roaring in his ears and his head was swimming, the woods spinning above him. It was getting dark now. Real dark, not the kinda dark people get in cities. Real dark.
He was in enormous pain now.....well, pain that was already receding, he was scared and he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The vines were sending lightening bolts of pain down his throat as they continued to enter his mouth and slide down his wind pipe and esophagous, probing for his life.
The forest feasted.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
OutsideTheOven
As you know, I occasionally bring in articles from my travels across the web. Like Son Of The Father there last post. Well this time I'm gonna send you somewhere. While your there, leave the daddy a comment and tell him to post more often. His brand of humor and fiction is hard to come by.......and welcome @ TheOven DaddyO ????????
So, go see him at Snailtrax(http://snailtrax.net/) and buy your Snailtrax gear. And while I think you may be able take some bills from him on the golf course, I don't recommend you play cards with him. An analytical and Matthematical mind with the advantage of solid game theory and an incredible memory in a package wrapped up in astute observational skills means you(and I)lose our money. His fantasy baseball skills are just good enough to finish 5th 17 years in a row however(good enough to beat me the last 2 or 3 years though), I know, I know, statistical anomoly..........
So, go see him at Snailtrax(http://snailtrax.net/) and buy your Snailtrax gear. And while I think you may be able take some bills from him on the golf course, I don't recommend you play cards with him. An analytical and Matthematical mind with the advantage of solid game theory and an incredible memory in a package wrapped up in astute observational skills means you(and I)lose our money. His fantasy baseball skills are just good enough to finish 5th 17 years in a row however(good enough to beat me the last 2 or 3 years though), I know, I know, statistical anomoly..........
SonOfTheFather
OK so I was NEXT BLOGging again and came across this little commentary on a blog called FALLEN(http://xwhiteboy777x.blogspot.com/ ). It just seemed like exactly the kinda thing I'd write, so I pasted it over here.
Barabbas indeed.
The Son of the Father Enigma
If The prefix Bar means "son" and Abba means "father"...would the name Barabbas mean "son of the father"??? Yes...that's what it means. Matthew 27:15-26Now it was the governor's custom at the Feast to release a prisoner chosen by the crowd. At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Barabbas. So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, "Which one do you want me to release to you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" For he knew it was out of envy that they had handed Jesus over to him. While Pilate was sitting on the judge's seat, his wife sent him this message: "Don't have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him."
But the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus executed. "Which of the two do you want me to release to you?" asked the governor. "Barabbas," they answered. "What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called Christ?" Pilate asked. They all answered, "Crucify him!" "Why? What crime has he committed?" asked Pilate. But they shouted all the louder, "Crucify him!" When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. "I am innocent of this man's blood," he said. "It is your responsibility!" All the people answered, "Let his blood be on us and on our children!" Then he released Barabbas to them. But he had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.My query...Did the Jewish people at the time realize they were trading Barabbas, "the son of the father" for Jesus, "The Son of The Father"?
OK, so that's what Jack @ FALLEN had to say. Now...............
Anyone wanna comment on other possibilities of why they would've coded Son Of The Father in there as being the man who was let go instead of Jesus?
I'll start..........Barabbas was a second identity for a high profile agitator.....and messiah. He needed to go througfh the streets unnoticed as the messiah occasionally.....so he gets identity #2, Barabbas and runs the streets at will undetected.
Now a wealthy businessman sympathetic to Yehosua's cause(Joeseph of Arimathea), has the connections and money to make a bait and switch. Getting the heat off Yehoshua AND providing a "death" for the messiah to come back from(Influece with Pilate's wifey who warned Pilate not to have anything to do with it? And with the priests in the crowd and people in the crowd to incite the "kill Jesus instead" bunch.). I wonder how much Barabbas was seen around after Yehosua jetted post Golgotha? And I wonder if beforehand, Yehosua and Barabbas were ever seen together? And the thief on the cross next to Yehosua, what was his name?
Isn't this fun? Who's got next?
Barabbas indeed.
The Son of the Father Enigma
If The prefix Bar means "son" and Abba means "father"...would the name Barabbas mean "son of the father"??? Yes...that's what it means. Matthew 27:15-26Now it was the governor's custom at the Feast to release a prisoner chosen by the crowd. At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Barabbas. So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, "Which one do you want me to release to you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" For he knew it was out of envy that they had handed Jesus over to him. While Pilate was sitting on the judge's seat, his wife sent him this message: "Don't have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him."
But the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus executed. "Which of the two do you want me to release to you?" asked the governor. "Barabbas," they answered. "What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called Christ?" Pilate asked. They all answered, "Crucify him!" "Why? What crime has he committed?" asked Pilate. But they shouted all the louder, "Crucify him!" When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. "I am innocent of this man's blood," he said. "It is your responsibility!" All the people answered, "Let his blood be on us and on our children!" Then he released Barabbas to them. But he had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.My query...Did the Jewish people at the time realize they were trading Barabbas, "the son of the father" for Jesus, "The Son of The Father"?
OK, so that's what Jack @ FALLEN had to say. Now...............
Anyone wanna comment on other possibilities of why they would've coded Son Of The Father in there as being the man who was let go instead of Jesus?
I'll start..........Barabbas was a second identity for a high profile agitator.....and messiah. He needed to go througfh the streets unnoticed as the messiah occasionally.....so he gets identity #2, Barabbas and runs the streets at will undetected.
Now a wealthy businessman sympathetic to Yehosua's cause(Joeseph of Arimathea), has the connections and money to make a bait and switch. Getting the heat off Yehoshua AND providing a "death" for the messiah to come back from(Influece with Pilate's wifey who warned Pilate not to have anything to do with it? And with the priests in the crowd and people in the crowd to incite the "kill Jesus instead" bunch.). I wonder how much Barabbas was seen around after Yehosua jetted post Golgotha? And I wonder if beforehand, Yehosua and Barabbas were ever seen together? And the thief on the cross next to Yehosua, what was his name?
Isn't this fun? Who's got next?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
TheHoneymoon(FTDParish)
Lightening flashed, splitting the night into jagged pieces, lighting the small room with strobe light effect. The pelting rain rang off the copper roof and thunder clapped and filled their world. They huddled together, seeking warmth and comfort in each other.
"What was that?" Sam whispered to the currently dark room.
Claire didn't answer, she just sobbed into Sam's shoulder.
Sam wished she would shut the hell up. Crying wasn't helping anything.
The room lit up again as the storm reasserted itself into their consciousness, making it impossible to think clearly.
Claire wished the lightening would stop. Instinctively believing it was easier to hide in the dark. Of course if it couldn't see you, you couldn't see it either....if it was coming.
The light was fading after the lightening flash. Sam's eyes sprang open as Claire's scream overwhelmed the voice of the storm.
A small spot on the far wall was glowing a sickly, swamp gas green color. The glowing spot grew........outward, into the room as well as on the wall. Sam recoiled as as features appeared in the glow and a rotting, deathy smell assaulted her.
Claire wasn't screaming anymore, her mind had shut down. She just sat there rocking, watching the thing grow more substantial as it entered the room.
The room filled with light and thunder as the storm raged against the old copper roof. Lightening flashed quicker and quicker so that now, it was light more often than not. Thunder peeled.
In that unearthly light from the storm,the sickly green glow waned and Sam closed her eyes tightly and opened them again. Again the lightening echo was fading and the room was getting dark. The decaying odor smothered Sam, she couldn't breathe. She coughed.
It materialized right in front of her as the darkness overtook the room. The last thing Sam knew was Claires throat ripping scream.
"What was that?" Sam whispered to the currently dark room.
Claire didn't answer, she just sobbed into Sam's shoulder.
Sam wished she would shut the hell up. Crying wasn't helping anything.
The room lit up again as the storm reasserted itself into their consciousness, making it impossible to think clearly.
Claire wished the lightening would stop. Instinctively believing it was easier to hide in the dark. Of course if it couldn't see you, you couldn't see it either....if it was coming.
The light was fading after the lightening flash. Sam's eyes sprang open as Claire's scream overwhelmed the voice of the storm.
A small spot on the far wall was glowing a sickly, swamp gas green color. The glowing spot grew........outward, into the room as well as on the wall. Sam recoiled as as features appeared in the glow and a rotting, deathy smell assaulted her.
Claire wasn't screaming anymore, her mind had shut down. She just sat there rocking, watching the thing grow more substantial as it entered the room.
The room filled with light and thunder as the storm raged against the old copper roof. Lightening flashed quicker and quicker so that now, it was light more often than not. Thunder peeled.
In that unearthly light from the storm,the sickly green glow waned and Sam closed her eyes tightly and opened them again. Again the lightening echo was fading and the room was getting dark. The decaying odor smothered Sam, she couldn't breathe. She coughed.
It materialized right in front of her as the darkness overtook the room. The last thing Sam knew was Claires throat ripping scream.
TheJunkiesFaust#11(FTDParish) TheUntitledSeriesNowTitled
We went to the Grand Canyon, Vegas, saw a Gwar show at the Speedway Cafe in Salt Lake City. We camped on mountains and rode a street car in San Fransisco.
I wanted to stay in Northern Califonia then. I liked the atmosphere and the nature. Some big ass trees....old, in Northern California. And I thought maybe the unease that had been building the last coupla days, the almost imperceptible pressure behind the eyes that I'd felt when I thought about LA, maybe it would get better with a stay in the Bay area and points north.
Dirt and Maya wouldn't hear of it. They argued that it would be fall soon and LA was 70' and sunny year round. It was more exciting there. Why I never could get them to explain to me, but they thought so, and I was with them. So, we eventually ended up in LA.
By now we were almost broke. We'd spent all the money we'd saved to get an apartment and live til we got jobs. We had enough left for a cheap motel room for about a week. A coupla bottles of tequila and a coupla burgers.
Just like every time we ran out, Maya left to go flash her tatoos around and see who saluted. I still wasn't pressuring Maya about the coke. I was liking it too much. All I could do basically, all over the West.........for free. Too good to be true.
We'd been smoking it since Salt Lake. Breaking it down and rockin it back up. Then packing it in a pyrex tube and using a butane lighter, we'd smoke it.
Maya'd been gone awhile. I was really wantin that pipe.
But Maya didn't come back with coke this time. This time she walked into the room, neon flashing behind her and tossed me the bag. I caught it. It felt too powdery. I looked at it. It looked like coke........ But somethin was wrong.
Maya threw herself down on the bed, exhaling sharply. She whined(a little theatrically I thought), "Couldn't get coke here tonight, so I got us some H", she said glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Gauging me. Seeing how I was gonna react....................I freaked.
"Are you fuckin nuts!" I yelled, " Fucking Heroin Maya? Fucking Heroin? Really?"
Dirt freaked back. Jumping up, he screamed, "Don't you yell at her you fuckin prick. Stay off her ass. She's just tryin to help."
I yelled back, "You're gonna fuckin do it ain't ya?"
"Betchyer fuckin ass I am. And you will too. You need somethin as bad as us. You've smoked all the free fuckin coke she's brought, never bitchin about that, now you're gonna freak the fuck out cause she can't get you FREE fucking coke this time. Just FREE fuckin H. Shut the fuck up and do it," Dirt let me have it. I kinda deserved it, but H.............
I looked at him through my anger..........fuckin mutiny. He peered back, Maya looking on concerned.....real concern.
I put on my shoes and left. They could do what the fuck ever they wanted, I wasn't gonna get on the Hare-ON. Fuck no.
I talked the clerk into a half priced room since we'd aleady paid for a week and he had empty rooms. Half price better than no price. Right boss?
I crashed.
I wanted to stay in Northern Califonia then. I liked the atmosphere and the nature. Some big ass trees....old, in Northern California. And I thought maybe the unease that had been building the last coupla days, the almost imperceptible pressure behind the eyes that I'd felt when I thought about LA, maybe it would get better with a stay in the Bay area and points north.
Dirt and Maya wouldn't hear of it. They argued that it would be fall soon and LA was 70' and sunny year round. It was more exciting there. Why I never could get them to explain to me, but they thought so, and I was with them. So, we eventually ended up in LA.
By now we were almost broke. We'd spent all the money we'd saved to get an apartment and live til we got jobs. We had enough left for a cheap motel room for about a week. A coupla bottles of tequila and a coupla burgers.
Just like every time we ran out, Maya left to go flash her tatoos around and see who saluted. I still wasn't pressuring Maya about the coke. I was liking it too much. All I could do basically, all over the West.........for free. Too good to be true.
We'd been smoking it since Salt Lake. Breaking it down and rockin it back up. Then packing it in a pyrex tube and using a butane lighter, we'd smoke it.
Maya'd been gone awhile. I was really wantin that pipe.
But Maya didn't come back with coke this time. This time she walked into the room, neon flashing behind her and tossed me the bag. I caught it. It felt too powdery. I looked at it. It looked like coke........ But somethin was wrong.
Maya threw herself down on the bed, exhaling sharply. She whined(a little theatrically I thought), "Couldn't get coke here tonight, so I got us some H", she said glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Gauging me. Seeing how I was gonna react....................I freaked.
"Are you fuckin nuts!" I yelled, " Fucking Heroin Maya? Fucking Heroin? Really?"
Dirt freaked back. Jumping up, he screamed, "Don't you yell at her you fuckin prick. Stay off her ass. She's just tryin to help."
I yelled back, "You're gonna fuckin do it ain't ya?"
"Betchyer fuckin ass I am. And you will too. You need somethin as bad as us. You've smoked all the free fuckin coke she's brought, never bitchin about that, now you're gonna freak the fuck out cause she can't get you FREE fucking coke this time. Just FREE fuckin H. Shut the fuck up and do it," Dirt let me have it. I kinda deserved it, but H.............
I looked at him through my anger..........fuckin mutiny. He peered back, Maya looking on concerned.....real concern.
I put on my shoes and left. They could do what the fuck ever they wanted, I wasn't gonna get on the Hare-ON. Fuck no.
I talked the clerk into a half priced room since we'd aleady paid for a week and he had empty rooms. Half price better than no price. Right boss?
I crashed.
TheJunkiesFaust#10(FTDParish) TheUntitledSeriesNowTitled
When I woke, there was light coming in between the curtains, falling across the orangy brown '70's shag carpet. The lights on each side of the little desk were on and Dirt and Maya had the big mirror unscrewed from the wall and were lining up huge gagglers.
That was the clicking I'd heard in my dream. Except in my dream, the clicking was thousands of tiny legs on cheap linoleum as thousands of roaches ate my dead body. But I was there, and I could feel them eating me. Tiny mouthful by tiny mouthful.
"Where the fuck did that come from?" I croaked, "we can't afford that. We've still gotta get there, get set up. Fuck."
They turned to me smiling. Maya with a playful look on her face, lips slightly pursed. Dirt laughs, "We didn't pay for it. It's free man. "
I looked on, stunned. Just woke up from being drunk and all strung out. Still groggy and half asleep, mouth tasting like old possum, layin on the side o' the road....ass. And I'm lookin at huge lines that we don't have to pay for? Straight up vapor lock. Stuck.
Dirt eventually has mercy on me and says, "Maya went out while we were asleep last night and got it."
I was still lost. Did Maya have money we didn't know about? Well, that would stand to reason. Sure she did. But judging from the size of that bag, I guessed that she didn't have that kinda stake. So how'd she get it? Rob somebody....maybe. Suck a dick...or more......maybe. She was fuckin us all across the west, what would she do for a bag that big? Was it really coke? Was it good? What was it? Two ounces prolly. Nuts. Fuckin nuts.
"Where the fuck did you get that?" I asked. "Do we need to pack up and get the fuck outta here?"
She just looked at me calmly....a little smugly, and said, "Chill man. Everything's alright. I didn't have to rob or kill anybody to get this. Noone's comin to look for us. If you wanna get outta here, that's fine. We could head up to Washington state or somethin......but we don't have to. Everything's fine man."
"So where the fuck did you get it?" I stayed focused while Dirt took one huge line all up one nostril in a mammoth, rip snortin blast.
She just held up both her hands, slowly twirling them at the wrist, flashing the tatoos there.
"Did you ever wonder what these are about?" She asked.
I shrugged and gave a little nod indicating I had.
"It marks me as a member of a certain organization. A club sorta. Like a fraternity for boys and girls, w/out the kegs and co-eds......for the most part." She continued with a shrug of her own.
"A gang?" I persisted, "you're in a nationwide gang?" I struggled to understand.
"Just let it go." she returned. "It's free, nobody's trying to kill us. We're cool. Let it go. Enjoy. Let me thank you for letting me ride with you guys."
Dirt finally looked up from the mirror long enough to say, "just ride it man, just be cool."
I shook my head, trying to clear it. Trying to get some perspective on what weas going on. Wondering if we were gonna have a big bill to pay as soon as we got there. Maya would go to the closest "clubhouse" and tell them we were here, turn in her voucher and pretty soon some tatoo'd Asian or car full of Cholos or maybe a coupla Shaft lookin fellas show up at the apartment and want to collect on the cola we've been doing all over the Northwest.
I just couldn't justify it. But I wanted to. I really liked coke. I really liked Maya and being on the road with her and Dirt. I knew there was somethn wrong, but I did it anyway. I got up and did a line on the way to the bathroom, all up one nostril. Thought I was gonna die. I could see the headline.....Indiana man drowns on own spit in grubby Colorado motel. Then I went and pissed.
That was the clicking I'd heard in my dream. Except in my dream, the clicking was thousands of tiny legs on cheap linoleum as thousands of roaches ate my dead body. But I was there, and I could feel them eating me. Tiny mouthful by tiny mouthful.
"Where the fuck did that come from?" I croaked, "we can't afford that. We've still gotta get there, get set up. Fuck."
They turned to me smiling. Maya with a playful look on her face, lips slightly pursed. Dirt laughs, "We didn't pay for it. It's free man. "
I looked on, stunned. Just woke up from being drunk and all strung out. Still groggy and half asleep, mouth tasting like old possum, layin on the side o' the road....ass. And I'm lookin at huge lines that we don't have to pay for? Straight up vapor lock. Stuck.
Dirt eventually has mercy on me and says, "Maya went out while we were asleep last night and got it."
I was still lost. Did Maya have money we didn't know about? Well, that would stand to reason. Sure she did. But judging from the size of that bag, I guessed that she didn't have that kinda stake. So how'd she get it? Rob somebody....maybe. Suck a dick...or more......maybe. She was fuckin us all across the west, what would she do for a bag that big? Was it really coke? Was it good? What was it? Two ounces prolly. Nuts. Fuckin nuts.
"Where the fuck did you get that?" I asked. "Do we need to pack up and get the fuck outta here?"
She just looked at me calmly....a little smugly, and said, "Chill man. Everything's alright. I didn't have to rob or kill anybody to get this. Noone's comin to look for us. If you wanna get outta here, that's fine. We could head up to Washington state or somethin......but we don't have to. Everything's fine man."
"So where the fuck did you get it?" I stayed focused while Dirt took one huge line all up one nostril in a mammoth, rip snortin blast.
She just held up both her hands, slowly twirling them at the wrist, flashing the tatoos there.
"Did you ever wonder what these are about?" She asked.
I shrugged and gave a little nod indicating I had.
"It marks me as a member of a certain organization. A club sorta. Like a fraternity for boys and girls, w/out the kegs and co-eds......for the most part." She continued with a shrug of her own.
"A gang?" I persisted, "you're in a nationwide gang?" I struggled to understand.
"Just let it go." she returned. "It's free, nobody's trying to kill us. We're cool. Let it go. Enjoy. Let me thank you for letting me ride with you guys."
Dirt finally looked up from the mirror long enough to say, "just ride it man, just be cool."
I shook my head, trying to clear it. Trying to get some perspective on what weas going on. Wondering if we were gonna have a big bill to pay as soon as we got there. Maya would go to the closest "clubhouse" and tell them we were here, turn in her voucher and pretty soon some tatoo'd Asian or car full of Cholos or maybe a coupla Shaft lookin fellas show up at the apartment and want to collect on the cola we've been doing all over the Northwest.
I just couldn't justify it. But I wanted to. I really liked coke. I really liked Maya and being on the road with her and Dirt. I knew there was somethn wrong, but I did it anyway. I got up and did a line on the way to the bathroom, all up one nostril. Thought I was gonna die. I could see the headline.....Indiana man drowns on own spit in grubby Colorado motel. Then I went and pissed.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
TheJunkiesFaust#9(FTDParish) TheUntitledSeriesNowTitled
When I came outta the bathroom, Dirt was asleep and Maya was gone. I immediately went to the bag and checked the money....all still there. I wondered if we'd ever see Maya again now that the coke was gone. Just then she unlocked the door and came in carrying a bucket of ice and a bottle of whiskey. She only had on one of my shirts and a pair of sandals....maybe underwear, but i doubted it.
She stood there holdng the ice and whiskey, smiled and said, "The creepy clerk dude gave me a bottle. Thirsty?"
I didn't even ask, just said that I was. As I towelled off, she put ice in two plastic cups and poured whiskey liberally into them. I sat on the bed naked, feeling good. Tired but clean. She brought me my drink and stood there sipping hers as she looked at me over the rim of the cup.
She finally drained the rest, filled it up again, took another drink and positioned herself between my knees. I drank the cheap whiskey as I watched her work on my dick. She was very good with her mouth. I sat my drink down and lay back and let her take care of me. She licked and sucked up one side of my shaft and down the other. Taking my head in her mouth and applying some suction while she twirled her head around and around. Drivinig me crazy with "the polisher" as she called it.
I came quicker than I thought I would given all the coke and being as tired as I was. She took it all and smiled at me as she swallowed it and took another swig of the whiskey. She took my cup and filled it with more ice and whiskey.
I scooted up to the head of the bed, she, climbimg over me, took up position on the other side. We talked and drank and smoked cigarettes. I remember asking at least three times, but I don't think she ever told me where she was from, or what her plans were once we got there. I told her my life story as I got drunker and drunker. I don't remember when I passed out, but I do remember waking up once as Maya opened the door, walked out and shut the door behind her.
My last memory of that night was wondering if I'd see her again. Boy she sure could suck a dick.
She stood there holdng the ice and whiskey, smiled and said, "The creepy clerk dude gave me a bottle. Thirsty?"
I didn't even ask, just said that I was. As I towelled off, she put ice in two plastic cups and poured whiskey liberally into them. I sat on the bed naked, feeling good. Tired but clean. She brought me my drink and stood there sipping hers as she looked at me over the rim of the cup.
She finally drained the rest, filled it up again, took another drink and positioned herself between my knees. I drank the cheap whiskey as I watched her work on my dick. She was very good with her mouth. I sat my drink down and lay back and let her take care of me. She licked and sucked up one side of my shaft and down the other. Taking my head in her mouth and applying some suction while she twirled her head around and around. Drivinig me crazy with "the polisher" as she called it.
I came quicker than I thought I would given all the coke and being as tired as I was. She took it all and smiled at me as she swallowed it and took another swig of the whiskey. She took my cup and filled it with more ice and whiskey.
I scooted up to the head of the bed, she, climbimg over me, took up position on the other side. We talked and drank and smoked cigarettes. I remember asking at least three times, but I don't think she ever told me where she was from, or what her plans were once we got there. I told her my life story as I got drunker and drunker. I don't remember when I passed out, but I do remember waking up once as Maya opened the door, walked out and shut the door behind her.
My last memory of that night was wondering if I'd see her again. Boy she sure could suck a dick.
TheJunkiesFaust#8(FTDParish) TheUntitledSeriesNowTitled
The rest of the trip was filled with days and nights of coke and weed, and laughing and sex. Maya was a gregarious young woman. Generous with her laughter, her thoughts and her sex.
Say what you will, but there's something to be said for leaving the only home you've ever known with no idea of what the future will bring. Doing drugs and having sex in the open air of the Heartlands and the Northwests mountains and forests. It's......... freeing. Liberating just doesn't seem quite right. It's freeing.
Had we driven straight through, which was the plan, we would have been there by then, but after we picked up Maya, I don't think any of us wanted the road trip to end. Not wanting them to, but knowing things would change as soon as we stopped moving. We just took detours, saw things and went places....wherever we wanted.
The coke had run out early a coupla nights after we picked up Maya. I think Dirt and I both, would have preferred to conserve a little. Neither of us wanted to run out before we got there, but we both wanted to do it with Maya. The coke and it....... and we did. But now we were out.
So there we were, in a little motel room in Colorado, just off the road, tired, strung out, dirty and outta wiffer. Maya took a shower while Dirt and I wondered what the fuck now? I suggested we just get some rest and get to gettin sometime tomorrow. Time to head there.
Maya came out of the bathroom naked, towelling herself off. Water, beaded, glistening on her perfect little body. Athletic, but still feminen. Dark complected. Wet, dark hair hanging down and over her shoulder as she dried it, perfectly shaped breasts swaying.......perfect.
I let Dirt take a shower first while I sat at the little desk and looked at the map to find the best way there. I thought if we left tomorrow afternoon, we could get there by late the following night or early that next morning.
Maya slipped up behind me and rubbed her perky breasts on the back of my head, her erect nipples lightly brushing my hair. Then her pulling my head back hard and between them. She pinched and pulled her nipples as I watched in the mirror in front of us. I was suddendly conscious of not having had a shower for two days. She didn't notice or she didn't care. She licked the back of my ear and kneaded my shoulders with her strong hands. The tatoos on her wrists flashing in the mirror.
I turned and kissed her untrimmed yet very small bush. Almost none at all. I grabbed her fleshy little butt and pulled on the little stainless ring she had in her lip with my lips. Stretching the skin. She pulled slightly away, stretching farther, and sharply, softly inhaling. I licked her clit, which was by now, protruding slightly past the ring. She gasped more loudly and thrust her pubis at me. I devoured her clit.
Dirt came outta the bathroom, also naked and drying himself. He watched while I used my mouth on Maya's pussy.
Maya came while Dirt watched, thrashing, grinding my face into her and grinding herself into my face, grunting and finally collapsing onto the bed laughing.
I smiled at Dirt and he told me it was my turn to take a shower. We all laughed. Maya giddy on the bed. Dirt rock hard, walking toward her. I got up and went to take my shower.
Say what you will, but there's something to be said for leaving the only home you've ever known with no idea of what the future will bring. Doing drugs and having sex in the open air of the Heartlands and the Northwests mountains and forests. It's......... freeing. Liberating just doesn't seem quite right. It's freeing.
Had we driven straight through, which was the plan, we would have been there by then, but after we picked up Maya, I don't think any of us wanted the road trip to end. Not wanting them to, but knowing things would change as soon as we stopped moving. We just took detours, saw things and went places....wherever we wanted.
The coke had run out early a coupla nights after we picked up Maya. I think Dirt and I both, would have preferred to conserve a little. Neither of us wanted to run out before we got there, but we both wanted to do it with Maya. The coke and it....... and we did. But now we were out.
So there we were, in a little motel room in Colorado, just off the road, tired, strung out, dirty and outta wiffer. Maya took a shower while Dirt and I wondered what the fuck now? I suggested we just get some rest and get to gettin sometime tomorrow. Time to head there.
Maya came out of the bathroom naked, towelling herself off. Water, beaded, glistening on her perfect little body. Athletic, but still feminen. Dark complected. Wet, dark hair hanging down and over her shoulder as she dried it, perfectly shaped breasts swaying.......perfect.
I let Dirt take a shower first while I sat at the little desk and looked at the map to find the best way there. I thought if we left tomorrow afternoon, we could get there by late the following night or early that next morning.
Maya slipped up behind me and rubbed her perky breasts on the back of my head, her erect nipples lightly brushing my hair. Then her pulling my head back hard and between them. She pinched and pulled her nipples as I watched in the mirror in front of us. I was suddendly conscious of not having had a shower for two days. She didn't notice or she didn't care. She licked the back of my ear and kneaded my shoulders with her strong hands. The tatoos on her wrists flashing in the mirror.
I turned and kissed her untrimmed yet very small bush. Almost none at all. I grabbed her fleshy little butt and pulled on the little stainless ring she had in her lip with my lips. Stretching the skin. She pulled slightly away, stretching farther, and sharply, softly inhaling. I licked her clit, which was by now, protruding slightly past the ring. She gasped more loudly and thrust her pubis at me. I devoured her clit.
Dirt came outta the bathroom, also naked and drying himself. He watched while I used my mouth on Maya's pussy.
Maya came while Dirt watched, thrashing, grinding my face into her and grinding herself into my face, grunting and finally collapsing onto the bed laughing.
I smiled at Dirt and he told me it was my turn to take a shower. We all laughed. Maya giddy on the bed. Dirt rock hard, walking toward her. I got up and went to take my shower.
SearchParty(FTDParish)
His fingernails were splintered. His fingers bled. Still he clawed at the stone.
There were bits of gravel and sand lodged under his nails. Jammed back past the quick. Still he picked.
He was looking for something...........couldn't remember what right now. His brain wouldn't work right. It was like a dream. Like thinking through molasses. Like waking up from a long drunk. Everything was distorted. Time didn't work right. Sounds didn't sound right.
And his fingers hurt...really hurt.
What was he looking for? He'd been looking, working for a long time. Day after day after day. He thought, through the fog, that he could almost remember where he was sometimes. Remember what he was looking for.
He shook his head. He had to concentrate. This was important, the most important thing in his life. If he could just remember why! He could almost sense what it was, and that was frustrating. Infuriatingly so.
Imagine all day, every day, not being able to remember your third grade teachers name. It was always on the tip of your tongue, always right there. You knew how close you were, but you couldn't remember. Ever. Every day, the same question. Every day the same answer. Every day the same feeling of impotence, of frustration, of impatience and inevitability. The same anticipation of success. Every day the same failure....the same surrender.
But today was different, he could feel it. The sun shown brighter through the reinforced glass. The birds sang louder and their song was clearer and more beautiful. The sky was bluer and the grass greener. His reflection in the glass was...........
His reflection! He looked at his reflection. He looked at his hands, the bloody fingers. He looked at the restaints on his arms. He looked around at the others in the room. Gaunt, dirty, shuffling, wasted. The other people like him. Drooling on themselves, unshaven, unbathed, unattended.
Unattended!! He pulled at the tethers and pounded his fists against the glass. He cried and tried to scream for help, but his throat was dry and he couldn't form the words right anyway. The meds made it hard......to think, to act. His mouth was sticky.
He cried and gurgled deep in his throat as two large men in white jumpsuits rushed into the room followed by a nurse. She flicked the syringe to get the air out. Squirted a little of the medication into the air. He saw it arc through the room.
He cried and tried to make them understand as they grabbed him. Their hands held his arms to his sides and they forced him onto his bed. A tether cut sharply into the flesh of his side as he stuggled in their grasp. But he was weak. He tried to make her stop. To tell her he had found it. Had found himself. But he couldn't make the words. His mouth was full of glue. He watched through bleary eyes as she reached towards him with the syringe. He sobbed and closed his eyes. He felt the warmth spread through his body. Felt his mind starting to fill with molasses. Heeeee.........................
There were bits of gravel and sand lodged under his nails. Jammed back past the quick. Still he picked.
He was looking for something...........couldn't remember what right now. His brain wouldn't work right. It was like a dream. Like thinking through molasses. Like waking up from a long drunk. Everything was distorted. Time didn't work right. Sounds didn't sound right.
And his fingers hurt...really hurt.
What was he looking for? He'd been looking, working for a long time. Day after day after day. He thought, through the fog, that he could almost remember where he was sometimes. Remember what he was looking for.
He shook his head. He had to concentrate. This was important, the most important thing in his life. If he could just remember why! He could almost sense what it was, and that was frustrating. Infuriatingly so.
Imagine all day, every day, not being able to remember your third grade teachers name. It was always on the tip of your tongue, always right there. You knew how close you were, but you couldn't remember. Ever. Every day, the same question. Every day the same answer. Every day the same feeling of impotence, of frustration, of impatience and inevitability. The same anticipation of success. Every day the same failure....the same surrender.
But today was different, he could feel it. The sun shown brighter through the reinforced glass. The birds sang louder and their song was clearer and more beautiful. The sky was bluer and the grass greener. His reflection in the glass was...........
His reflection! He looked at his reflection. He looked at his hands, the bloody fingers. He looked at the restaints on his arms. He looked around at the others in the room. Gaunt, dirty, shuffling, wasted. The other people like him. Drooling on themselves, unshaven, unbathed, unattended.
Unattended!! He pulled at the tethers and pounded his fists against the glass. He cried and tried to scream for help, but his throat was dry and he couldn't form the words right anyway. The meds made it hard......to think, to act. His mouth was sticky.
He cried and gurgled deep in his throat as two large men in white jumpsuits rushed into the room followed by a nurse. She flicked the syringe to get the air out. Squirted a little of the medication into the air. He saw it arc through the room.
He cried and tried to make them understand as they grabbed him. Their hands held his arms to his sides and they forced him onto his bed. A tether cut sharply into the flesh of his side as he stuggled in their grasp. But he was weak. He tried to make her stop. To tell her he had found it. Had found himself. But he couldn't make the words. His mouth was full of glue. He watched through bleary eyes as she reached towards him with the syringe. He sobbed and closed his eyes. He felt the warmth spread through his body. Felt his mind starting to fill with molasses. Heeeee.........................
Reflections(FTDParish) Revisited
The night was clear in it's intention to conceal.
Glowing amber waves.
Glowing ember ash.
Through the window I see darkness.
Through the window I see desperation.
Through the window I see me.
A death wish.
A goodnight kiss.
Single malt courage,
The flames dancing in amber.
Flaring ember illuminates my face.
Through the window I see darkness.
Through the window I see deterioration.
Through the window I see me.
Glowing amber waves.
Glowing ember ash.
Through the window I see darkness.
Through the window I see desperation.
Through the window I see me.
A death wish.
A goodnight kiss.
Single malt courage,
The flames dancing in amber.
Flaring ember illuminates my face.
Through the window I see darkness.
Through the window I see deterioration.
Through the window I see me.
Friday, March 9, 2007
TheDeepThroat
Ok, so if you've read my bio(or IAmFinn) you know I work as a bartender as well as being blogmaster on the most entertaining site in blogdom.....................well ok, but I am a bartender.
So I read this small article (http://msn.match.com/msn/article.aspx?articleid=6696&TrackingID=516165&BannerID=541888&menuid=6>1=9177) where bartenders give advice on picking up women. Now anyone who's been bartending for awhile sees hookups happen by the hundreds. Happens all the time. I mean that's why most people go to the bar right? I DID say most people. So there is some wisdom there if you're interested. Some of the suggestions aren't practical in places like Bumfuck Martintuckey(prolly not gonna order a young lady a glass of Cristal), but some are worthy. I'll let you decide which ones.
And while I'm at it, I'll give you a recipe for a shot that I invented that girlies like and they like ordering. First I'll give you the backstory of why it's here and how it got named.....
I was at work on a slow Friday night. There was a young lady in attendance that I was familiar with. She's attractive and intelligent and this night she was under the weather. Normally she's a beer drinker, straight outta the bottle.....good girl that. But tonight she was suffering from and slowly recovering from, a Respitory Infection....if she shoulda been out drinking is debatable, but there she was anyway.
So, she approaches the bar, we small talk a little. I comment on her xtry husky voice this evening, she explains the sickiness and says beer's not doin it. She needs a shot, but she's not a straight up kinda girl(no tequila, whiskey or whatever. she wants a fruity shot that isn't gonna kill her and will taste good, but will help her forget her RI(that precludes your normal girlie shots like snake bites or purple hooters or buttery nipples or the like). I suggest a jaeger bomb(1 shot jaeger and 1/3 can of red bull. drop shot glass of jaeger into red bull and slam) but she's not into jaeger. OK a challenge, I like a challenge. But.............
Even though it's a little slow, there are others at the bar that also need attending, so rather than standing there waiting for her to decide I say, "just let me whip you somethin up." She's a little hesitant as I start grabbing bottles and slingin liquor, but she sucks it down and smiles. She likes it.
She asks what it's called. I tell her I just invented it and I haven't named it yet, does she have a suggestion. She stares blankly, apparently while intelligent, she's not particularly creative. So I say, (imitating her froglike voice due to yon RI)"Let's call it the deep throat". She smiles pleased to have been the drive behind a new shot and it's naming.
Over the next several weeks she does all my pimping for me so that now the deep throat is a staple at my bar and girls love ordering it....."We'd like 4 deep throats" giggle giggle sly look. They also like making the guys order them for them so that when some strapping young lad asks if they would like a drink, they can make him come ask me for "4 deep throats for the girls.......and 1 for me".
Mix in stainless steal shaker, chill and serve 1.5 oz in chilled glass. Cost $3.50 each. Makes 10 shots. That ='s $35.00 take on about $15.00 worth o' liquor and mixer. That's $20.00 profit. And good tippage.
3 shots vodka
3 shots mailbu rum
3 shots midori(melon liqueur)
3 shots sweet and sour
3 shots cranberry juice
Enjoy and enjoy your prospect girl giggling as you make her order deep throats from the bar.
PS.......if instead of giggling she looks meaningfully into your eyes, leave with her now, you don't need to buy her any more shots!!!!!!
Finn
So I read this small article (http://msn.match.com/msn/article.aspx?articleid=6696&TrackingID=516165&BannerID=541888&menuid=6>1=9177) where bartenders give advice on picking up women. Now anyone who's been bartending for awhile sees hookups happen by the hundreds. Happens all the time. I mean that's why most people go to the bar right? I DID say most people. So there is some wisdom there if you're interested. Some of the suggestions aren't practical in places like Bumfuck Martintuckey(prolly not gonna order a young lady a glass of Cristal), but some are worthy. I'll let you decide which ones.
And while I'm at it, I'll give you a recipe for a shot that I invented that girlies like and they like ordering. First I'll give you the backstory of why it's here and how it got named.....
I was at work on a slow Friday night. There was a young lady in attendance that I was familiar with. She's attractive and intelligent and this night she was under the weather. Normally she's a beer drinker, straight outta the bottle.....good girl that. But tonight she was suffering from and slowly recovering from, a Respitory Infection....if she shoulda been out drinking is debatable, but there she was anyway.
So, she approaches the bar, we small talk a little. I comment on her xtry husky voice this evening, she explains the sickiness and says beer's not doin it. She needs a shot, but she's not a straight up kinda girl(no tequila, whiskey or whatever. she wants a fruity shot that isn't gonna kill her and will taste good, but will help her forget her RI(that precludes your normal girlie shots like snake bites or purple hooters or buttery nipples or the like). I suggest a jaeger bomb(1 shot jaeger and 1/3 can of red bull. drop shot glass of jaeger into red bull and slam) but she's not into jaeger. OK a challenge, I like a challenge. But.............
Even though it's a little slow, there are others at the bar that also need attending, so rather than standing there waiting for her to decide I say, "just let me whip you somethin up." She's a little hesitant as I start grabbing bottles and slingin liquor, but she sucks it down and smiles. She likes it.
She asks what it's called. I tell her I just invented it and I haven't named it yet, does she have a suggestion. She stares blankly, apparently while intelligent, she's not particularly creative. So I say, (imitating her froglike voice due to yon RI)"Let's call it the deep throat". She smiles pleased to have been the drive behind a new shot and it's naming.
Over the next several weeks she does all my pimping for me so that now the deep throat is a staple at my bar and girls love ordering it....."We'd like 4 deep throats" giggle giggle sly look. They also like making the guys order them for them so that when some strapping young lad asks if they would like a drink, they can make him come ask me for "4 deep throats for the girls.......and 1 for me".
Mix in stainless steal shaker, chill and serve 1.5 oz in chilled glass. Cost $3.50 each. Makes 10 shots. That ='s $35.00 take on about $15.00 worth o' liquor and mixer. That's $20.00 profit. And good tippage.
3 shots vodka
3 shots mailbu rum
3 shots midori(melon liqueur)
3 shots sweet and sour
3 shots cranberry juice
Enjoy and enjoy your prospect girl giggling as you make her order deep throats from the bar.
PS.......if instead of giggling she looks meaningfully into your eyes, leave with her now, you don't need to buy her any more shots!!!!!!
Finn
DreamMan(FTDParish)
The concrete was rough. Abrasive on her palms and knees. Bony hands seared her shoulders in vicious possession. Talons pierced the top of her chest.
The demon's doglike prick felt slimy, very hard and hot, sliding into her ass. On the outstroke, spiny scales flared and tore at her.
She screamed and felt the skin on her knees rip and the bone grate as the alligator skinned creature from the pit fucked her insides out.
Her eyes snapped open and the scream caught in her throat. She gasped for breath and groped for the light switch. Her throat was on fire, she reached for the glass of water she kept on the nightstand, and found it empty.
She threw the covers back to get up and get a drink and saw the blood.
The perverse laugh resonated through her mind as pain exploded from her core.
The demon's doglike prick felt slimy, very hard and hot, sliding into her ass. On the outstroke, spiny scales flared and tore at her.
She screamed and felt the skin on her knees rip and the bone grate as the alligator skinned creature from the pit fucked her insides out.
Her eyes snapped open and the scream caught in her throat. She gasped for breath and groped for the light switch. Her throat was on fire, she reached for the glass of water she kept on the nightstand, and found it empty.
She threw the covers back to get up and get a drink and saw the blood.
The perverse laugh resonated through her mind as pain exploded from her core.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
UnderTheBed ABedtimeStory(Finn)
I walked the walk. The walk to bed.
I'm not ready to go to bed I said.
The hallway lengthened, our footsteps boomed.
Time elongated as the terror loomed.
While we sleep, the monsters feed.
We lay there helpless as they do their deeds.
Our parents refuse to understand.
They're real life monsters, not the boogeyman.
They wait patiently in their world.
Watching the prayers of little boys and girls.
The prayers are finished, I'm all tucked in.
Lying there waiting for it to begin.
Covers pulled up to my eyes.
I see the darkness, the shadows lie.
The lightless corners hide their forms
With their claws and fangs and their gnarly horns.
Their ravenous lust tears away,
the fabric that keeps the nightmares at bay.
The way is open and in they crawl.
They need our fear. Young cries their siren call.
Their lurking done, the time is here.
Fiends stalk slowly, magnifying our fear.
We hear them coming, floorboards creak,
Clapperclaw clatter, the gnashing of beaks,
Hopeless advancement of the hellish freaks.
A car turns the corner illuming the night.
Most wonderful, magnificent, luxurious light bright.
The luminous benevolence come to dispel my fright.
My courage amplified to it's most brilliant, radient heights.
They're not creeping and slinking across my bedroom floor.
Or watching and waiting behind the closet door.
The nightmarish creatures of mythical lore.
This means the monsters were only in my head?
They're not in the closet.....................THEY'RE UNDER THE BED!!
I'm not ready to go to bed I said.
The hallway lengthened, our footsteps boomed.
Time elongated as the terror loomed.
While we sleep, the monsters feed.
We lay there helpless as they do their deeds.
Our parents refuse to understand.
They're real life monsters, not the boogeyman.
They wait patiently in their world.
Watching the prayers of little boys and girls.
The prayers are finished, I'm all tucked in.
Lying there waiting for it to begin.
Covers pulled up to my eyes.
I see the darkness, the shadows lie.
The lightless corners hide their forms
With their claws and fangs and their gnarly horns.
Their ravenous lust tears away,
the fabric that keeps the nightmares at bay.
The way is open and in they crawl.
They need our fear. Young cries their siren call.
Their lurking done, the time is here.
Fiends stalk slowly, magnifying our fear.
We hear them coming, floorboards creak,
Clapperclaw clatter, the gnashing of beaks,
Hopeless advancement of the hellish freaks.
A car turns the corner illuming the night.
Most wonderful, magnificent, luxurious light bright.
The luminous benevolence come to dispel my fright.
My courage amplified to it's most brilliant, radient heights.
They're not creeping and slinking across my bedroom floor.
Or watching and waiting behind the closet door.
The nightmarish creatures of mythical lore.
This means the monsters were only in my head?
They're not in the closet.....................THEY'RE UNDER THE BED!!
Monday, March 5, 2007
NoChildLeftBehind
Another Bushism like The Clean Air Act or The Save The Forests Initiative, both of which which I'll talk about some other time. But for now, No Child Left Behind.
Ok by now we all know W's strategy, give something a name that is the exact opposite of what he really intends(or is stupid enough to get shammed into believing by the evildoers in his administration. I haven't entirely decided yet. Stupid or evil? Evil or stupid? I guess it doesn't have to be one way or the other, he can be stupid and evil at the same time.) but sounds like exactly what the vast majority of us, as American citizens and taxpayers(read as his bosses) want.
Specifically today I'm gonna talk about something that our government has done....or not done, as the case may be.
Here's a link to an article which is an impending big part of my life. It concerns the day care system, which anyone who has children and jobs know, is a racket and monumental pain in the arse. Over priced. Under staffed. And now apparantly, if this article (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17384752/wid/11915773?GT1=9145 ) is accurate, under supervised by state governments.
This may be a state level problem , but as you know, W sets the bar for these crooks. And in my particular case, my state(Indiana) is run by a W cronie, Mitch Daniels who was a yes man and who was shortsighted and greedy to Paul O'Neil's truthfullness and fiscal responsibility in the early days of the Bush administration and their economic strategy meetings, before O'Neil was uncerimoniously dumped by the administration for having the audacity to speak his mind and give his opinion as Secretary of the Treasury. As a man who turned Alcoa around from near bankruptcy to world leader again. A contemperary and friend to then federal reserve chairman Alan Greenspan.
A coupla guys who know alot about economy there. But not "team players" as far as W's people are concerned. Now most of you know I don't care for big business and the federal reserve system any more than I care for government, but O'Neil is just a very good example how this administration thinks and acts. And you see Mitch as a W disciple.
But I digress, back to the kids...... A family can't be a one income family nowadays(see Reaganomics and now W's tax cuts) so a family WILL need day care. Or do like us. My situation is that I can work nights while the lovely woman in my life works days caring for the elderly in a home away from home setting. Noble, underappreciated and underpaid work(sorta like daycare and teachers. Real problkems in our societal makeup as far as I'm concerned). So we don't NEED day care, but we don't have alotta time together as a family. If I'm home she's working or sleeping and if she's home, I'm working or sleeping. So I even considered home schooling, but the kids need social skills too yes? So, day care is an option which we'll probably go with sometime this summer. Alas.
No child left behind indeed. No child that has a silver spoon sticking out of their mouths anyway. Thanks mega corporations, lobbyists and greedy and corrupt governmental representitives.
Finn
Ok by now we all know W's strategy, give something a name that is the exact opposite of what he really intends(or is stupid enough to get shammed into believing by the evildoers in his administration. I haven't entirely decided yet. Stupid or evil? Evil or stupid? I guess it doesn't have to be one way or the other, he can be stupid and evil at the same time.) but sounds like exactly what the vast majority of us, as American citizens and taxpayers(read as his bosses) want.
Specifically today I'm gonna talk about something that our government has done....or not done, as the case may be.
Here's a link to an article which is an impending big part of my life. It concerns the day care system, which anyone who has children and jobs know, is a racket and monumental pain in the arse. Over priced. Under staffed. And now apparantly, if this article (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17384752/wid/11915773?GT1=9145 ) is accurate, under supervised by state governments.
This may be a state level problem , but as you know, W sets the bar for these crooks. And in my particular case, my state(Indiana) is run by a W cronie, Mitch Daniels who was a yes man and who was shortsighted and greedy to Paul O'Neil's truthfullness and fiscal responsibility in the early days of the Bush administration and their economic strategy meetings, before O'Neil was uncerimoniously dumped by the administration for having the audacity to speak his mind and give his opinion as Secretary of the Treasury. As a man who turned Alcoa around from near bankruptcy to world leader again. A contemperary and friend to then federal reserve chairman Alan Greenspan.
A coupla guys who know alot about economy there. But not "team players" as far as W's people are concerned. Now most of you know I don't care for big business and the federal reserve system any more than I care for government, but O'Neil is just a very good example how this administration thinks and acts. And you see Mitch as a W disciple.
But I digress, back to the kids...... A family can't be a one income family nowadays(see Reaganomics and now W's tax cuts) so a family WILL need day care. Or do like us. My situation is that I can work nights while the lovely woman in my life works days caring for the elderly in a home away from home setting. Noble, underappreciated and underpaid work(sorta like daycare and teachers. Real problkems in our societal makeup as far as I'm concerned). So we don't NEED day care, but we don't have alotta time together as a family. If I'm home she's working or sleeping and if she's home, I'm working or sleeping. So I even considered home schooling, but the kids need social skills too yes? So, day care is an option which we'll probably go with sometime this summer. Alas.
No child left behind indeed. No child that has a silver spoon sticking out of their mouths anyway. Thanks mega corporations, lobbyists and greedy and corrupt governmental representitives.
Finn
Sunday, March 4, 2007
SeparationOfChurch AndState
A Christian country led by a Christian administration in a holy war against Islamic oil interest as a part of government of the corporation, by the corporation and by the corporation.
Ya know, even saying that we're a Christian country, W and his cronies alienate millions of Muslims, Buddhists, Mormons, Athiests, Occultists, etc.............AND they're wrong, see the list of non Christian constituants listed above.
Arrogant bastages. Anyway, I found these quotes by some of our founding fathers that give their opinion on the subject @ http://chicora.org/founding_fathers_and_religion.htm.......
Finn
I have examined all the known superstitions of the World, and I do not find in our particular superstition of Christianity one redeeming feature. They are all alike, founded on fables and mythology. Millions of innocent men, women and children, since the introduction of Christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined and imprisoned. What has been the effect of this coercion? To make one half the world fools and the other half hypocrites; to support roguery and error all over the world . . . . The clergy converted the simple teachings of Jesus into an engine for enslaving mankind . . . to filch wealth and power to themselves. [They], in fact, constitute the real Anti-Christ.
Thomas Jefferson
It does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods, or no God.
Thomas Jefferson
Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear.
Thomas Jefferson
I do not believe in the creed professed by the Jewish Church, by the Roman Church, by the Greek Church, by the Turkish Church, by the Protestant Church, nor by any church that I know of. My own mind is my own church.
Thomas Paine
My country is the world, and my religion is to do good.
Thomas Paine
Persecution is not an original feature in any religion; but it is always the strongly marked feature of all religions established by law.
Thomas Paine
Of all the animosities which have existed among mankind, those which are caused by difference of sentiments in religion appear to be the most inveterate and distressing, and ought most to be deprecated. I was in hopes that the enlightened and liberal policy, which has marked the present age, would at least have reconciled Christians of every denomination so far that we should never again see the religious disputes carried to such a pitch as to endanger the peace of society.
George Washington
. . . the path of true piety is so plain as to require but little political direction.
George Washington, 1789, responding to clergy complaints that the Constitution lacked mention of Jesus Christ
If they are good workmen, they may be from Asia, Africa or Europe; they may be Mahometans [Muslims, followers of the Prophet Mohammed], Jews, Christians of any sect, or they may be Atheists.... George Washington, to Tench Tighman, March 24, 1784, when asked what type of workman to get for Mount Vernon
. . . I beg you be persuaded that no one would be more zealous than myself to establish effectual barriers against the horrors of spiritual tyranny, and every species of religious persecution.
George Washington, to United Baptists Churches of Virginia, May, 1789
All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights. For happily the government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean [conduct] themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.
George Washington
When a religion is good, I conceive it will support itself; and when it does not support itself, and God does not take care to support it so that its professors are obliged to call for help of the civil power, 'tis a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one.
Benjamin Franklin
These quote suggest that many of our Founding Fathers were skeptical of organized religion and felt there was no place in our secular government for any specific religion. Here are a couple of web sites that will provide more information:
http://www.freedomhouse.org/religion/
http://www.religioustolerance.org/++
Ya know, even saying that we're a Christian country, W and his cronies alienate millions of Muslims, Buddhists, Mormons, Athiests, Occultists, etc.............AND they're wrong, see the list of non Christian constituants listed above.
Arrogant bastages. Anyway, I found these quotes by some of our founding fathers that give their opinion on the subject @ http://chicora.org/founding_fathers_and_religion.htm.......
Finn
I have examined all the known superstitions of the World, and I do not find in our particular superstition of Christianity one redeeming feature. They are all alike, founded on fables and mythology. Millions of innocent men, women and children, since the introduction of Christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined and imprisoned. What has been the effect of this coercion? To make one half the world fools and the other half hypocrites; to support roguery and error all over the world . . . . The clergy converted the simple teachings of Jesus into an engine for enslaving mankind . . . to filch wealth and power to themselves. [They], in fact, constitute the real Anti-Christ.
Thomas Jefferson
It does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods, or no God.
Thomas Jefferson
Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear.
Thomas Jefferson
I do not believe in the creed professed by the Jewish Church, by the Roman Church, by the Greek Church, by the Turkish Church, by the Protestant Church, nor by any church that I know of. My own mind is my own church.
Thomas Paine
My country is the world, and my religion is to do good.
Thomas Paine
Persecution is not an original feature in any religion; but it is always the strongly marked feature of all religions established by law.
Thomas Paine
Of all the animosities which have existed among mankind, those which are caused by difference of sentiments in religion appear to be the most inveterate and distressing, and ought most to be deprecated. I was in hopes that the enlightened and liberal policy, which has marked the present age, would at least have reconciled Christians of every denomination so far that we should never again see the religious disputes carried to such a pitch as to endanger the peace of society.
George Washington
. . . the path of true piety is so plain as to require but little political direction.
George Washington, 1789, responding to clergy complaints that the Constitution lacked mention of Jesus Christ
If they are good workmen, they may be from Asia, Africa or Europe; they may be Mahometans [Muslims, followers of the Prophet Mohammed], Jews, Christians of any sect, or they may be Atheists.... George Washington, to Tench Tighman, March 24, 1784, when asked what type of workman to get for Mount Vernon
. . . I beg you be persuaded that no one would be more zealous than myself to establish effectual barriers against the horrors of spiritual tyranny, and every species of religious persecution.
George Washington, to United Baptists Churches of Virginia, May, 1789
All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights. For happily the government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean [conduct] themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.
George Washington
When a religion is good, I conceive it will support itself; and when it does not support itself, and God does not take care to support it so that its professors are obliged to call for help of the civil power, 'tis a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one.
Benjamin Franklin
These quote suggest that many of our Founding Fathers were skeptical of organized religion and felt there was no place in our secular government for any specific religion. Here are a couple of web sites that will provide more information:
http://www.freedomhouse.org/religion/
http://www.religioustolerance.org/++
Saturday, March 3, 2007
TheDaCameronCode
If imitation really is the sincerist form of flattery, then Jim Cameron is flattering the hell outta Dan Brown.
I was just hittin the next blog button up top there(wonderful, wonderful thing) and happened across a blog called Israelity Bites. Seems pretty informational. I'll spend some time there checkin that out, but I digress........
Seems Cameron plans to air a 90 minute special sometime before Easter claiming he's found a tomb in a Juresalem suburb containing, I believe, 9 stone caskets which supposedly belong to Jesus and his family. Some of those being Father Joeseph, Mother Mary, Mary Magdelene, Jesus himself.....................and Jesus and Mary's son.....
Holy DaVinci Code Batman. But the thing that gets me is this self promoting piece o' shite is gonna hype the hell outta this and release it right before Easter. Now Lord knows I'm not above putting out some heretical thinkin here on this here blog....but I don't have the publicity machine that Cameron has and I don't intentionally pick right before the day that Jesus allegedly arose from the dead as the time to release an overhyped, 90 minute special trying to crush an entire dogma.
I would like to qualify this by saying I haven't talked with Jim lately.........so I don't know that this is fact, but if it is, what a dick. And all that being said I fully believe in his right to do it. And I eagerly await the show and hope it's not a Geraldo Rivera opens Al Capone's vault kinda thing. And it follows my personal beliefs more than the book. So it's not like I'm hatin, I even have huge problems with organized relgion and think, if true, it'd be good for the world, what still, what a dick.
I was just hittin the next blog button up top there(wonderful, wonderful thing) and happened across a blog called Israelity Bites. Seems pretty informational. I'll spend some time there checkin that out, but I digress........
Seems Cameron plans to air a 90 minute special sometime before Easter claiming he's found a tomb in a Juresalem suburb containing, I believe, 9 stone caskets which supposedly belong to Jesus and his family. Some of those being Father Joeseph, Mother Mary, Mary Magdelene, Jesus himself.....................and Jesus and Mary's son.....
Holy DaVinci Code Batman. But the thing that gets me is this self promoting piece o' shite is gonna hype the hell outta this and release it right before Easter. Now Lord knows I'm not above putting out some heretical thinkin here on this here blog....but I don't have the publicity machine that Cameron has and I don't intentionally pick right before the day that Jesus allegedly arose from the dead as the time to release an overhyped, 90 minute special trying to crush an entire dogma.
I would like to qualify this by saying I haven't talked with Jim lately.........so I don't know that this is fact, but if it is, what a dick. And all that being said I fully believe in his right to do it. And I eagerly await the show and hope it's not a Geraldo Rivera opens Al Capone's vault kinda thing. And it follows my personal beliefs more than the book. So it's not like I'm hatin, I even have huge problems with organized relgion and think, if true, it'd be good for the world, what still, what a dick.
IAmFinn(Finn)
I'm a wannabe guerilla ontologist
And a libational psychologist.
I'm fiscally conservative
And socially liberal,
Thirstingly curative
And grammatically illiteral.
And a libational psychologist.
I'm fiscally conservative
And socially liberal,
Thirstingly curative
And grammatically illiteral.
616
So, Tuck says that per some new translation, the # of the beast isn't 666, but really 616. You'll have to ask him where he pulled that out of, but it's been my experience that information supplied via the U Fu is pretty reliable. Whether or not the translation's right I can't speak of, but you can bank that U Fu found it somewhere in his travels....travels alot!
But let's just say that yon beastie has been afoolin us for the better part of a coulpla millenia.....wouldn't that be just like him?
But let's just say that yon beastie has been afoolin us for the better part of a coulpla millenia.....wouldn't that be just like him?
Friday, March 2, 2007
NotJustGeodesic Domes
A quote from Bucky Fuller.............
"The universe is unsimultaneously apprehended."
He's basically saying that no two people have the same reality tunnel because as I apprehend an event from my perspective via my sensory receptors and subsequently process that information through my nervous system, someone else is possibly apprehending the same event from their(a different perspective than yours) perspective, as processed through their sensory receptors and nervous system. Thereby making the same event "different" for the different inividual...............unsimultaneously apprehended.
A person cannot apprehend the entire universe at once.
No two entities can have the same reality unless they share physical space, sensory receptors and nervous sytems simultaneously for the entirety of their exsitence. So that everything they perceive is exact and they had the same set of historical experiences to relate what they are currently perceiving to.
Even a person with multiple personalities wouldn't have any two of those personalities having the same reality tunnel if their was a "present" personality and one or more "buried" personalities at any one time since having "buried" personalities would preclude every personality from having the same experience well to draw from.
Clear? Over....Out.
"The universe is unsimultaneously apprehended."
He's basically saying that no two people have the same reality tunnel because as I apprehend an event from my perspective via my sensory receptors and subsequently process that information through my nervous system, someone else is possibly apprehending the same event from their(a different perspective than yours) perspective, as processed through their sensory receptors and nervous system. Thereby making the same event "different" for the different inividual...............unsimultaneously apprehended.
A person cannot apprehend the entire universe at once.
No two entities can have the same reality unless they share physical space, sensory receptors and nervous sytems simultaneously for the entirety of their exsitence. So that everything they perceive is exact and they had the same set of historical experiences to relate what they are currently perceiving to.
Even a person with multiple personalities wouldn't have any two of those personalities having the same reality tunnel if their was a "present" personality and one or more "buried" personalities at any one time since having "buried" personalities would preclude every personality from having the same experience well to draw from.
Clear? Over....Out.
Commentary(FTDParish)
As mentioned before, I haven't had much time to keep up with this. However, anyone wanting to donate money for the recruitment of Satan, L. Ron Hubbard, or otherwise, I will be most willing to receive this modest (or not so modest) cash donation.
April Showers
Having just read FTDParish's newest story, it brings to mind a concept that has been brought up again and again in my life. That concept is that a god once worshipped never dies as long as someone still worships HIR. (If you don't under stand the HIR, see RA Wilson in various works). Basically implying that as long as a diety has a worshiper, than that diety has existence. When the modern day 'God' came along, that would have driven many pre-existing dieties to the brink (if not beyond) of non-existence. However, their basic archetypes still exist in our unconscience. Thus with belief, they could possibly be resurrected (a la Jesus?) Yeah, I'm probably condemned to Hell for thinking such, but if God can't accept the way SHe planned my thought patterns to manifest, then SHe hasn't planned the Universe nearly as well as HIR followers would have you think.
Ave Dementia
Tuck U. Fu
Ave Dementia
Tuck U. Fu
666
I'm sorry it's been so long since I posted. Filling the post of inscrutible oriental wisdom takes up a lot of my time. Not to contradict Finn but........ www might well equal 666, however, the most recent translations of ancient text puts the number of the beast at actually 616. Maybe that's WAW, or even WCW. And I would have to agree that anything that seems to relate to World Class Wrestling is indeed the work of the Devil. If that comes as a shock to you, get over it. It's as fake as organized religion. The minute you have to have someone else to bargain between you and (whatever you believe as god), your already screwed. You don't like my ideas, then firebomb Washinton, DC. I may live there, I may not. But either way I'll notice the effort.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
AprilShowers(FTDParish)
The wind rustled the leaves and a light spring rain misted the farm. He could smell the rain in the April breeze as he listened to the night sounds. It was late April, tornado season. Already the local news stations had had warnings, watches and what nots for storms, flash flooding and tornados.
When he was a small boy, his Mum woulda already had them all huddled in the cellar. She had been in a bad storm when she was younger than he was now. Her Poppa had died in that storm when he'd left the storm cellar to check on the livestock. So she'd been obsessed with storms all his ife.
Gramma had quickly followed close behind Poppaw up the cellar steps, Mum's older sisters following close behind them. Gramma telling the smaller children to stay in the cellar til she got back. They had an oil lantern for light and the youngest kids played jacks while the slightly older kids whispered amongst themselves and tended the babies.
Poppaw had died about halfway across the back yard, he lay there still smoldering. It was assumed that he'd been hit by lightening. And that's what the coroner put on the death certificate. But Gramma knew that lightening hadn't struck here. Nothing was smoking or burnt, nothing but him. The sherriff said it had to be lightening, so that's what all the official reports said.
Both Mum's brother's died within the next 4 years.
Matter of fact, he was the only living male left in his Mum's side of the family that he knew of.
Mum had told him stories....stories meant to scare kids on dark nights. Stories about the old ways, in the old days. And that's what he was thinking now as he struggled against the storm.
He wished he didn't have to deal with this right now. Wished his Mum was just batshit crazy and a stay at a home would be enough to remedy the problem....then he immediately felt bad for thinking like that. But the alternative was a real motherfucker. A drink, that's what he needed. A fuckin drink...big one....definately.
The wind whipped his hair and the rain stung his face and arms. The trees were swaying wildly in the heavy wind. Clouds churned overhead. The wind was picking dirt, small debris and leaves off the lawn and whipping them around, making it hard to see.
He didn't remember having draft horses, he had John Deere, but he knew he had to get to the barn and tend to them before they all broke their legs from jumping around in their stalls, scared of the storm.
He suddenly realized he was his Poppaw. He was running as hard as he could, but he wasn't getting anywhere. It was like he was running on a treadmill...... a treadmill in molasses.
That's when he knew it was a dream. It was always like that in dreams. Now he felt better, now that he knew it was just a dream, he wasn't afraid. Sometimes when he knew he was having a dream, he could wake himself up...................
"Ok......this wasn't one of those times", he thought as the weather battered him.
His heart was racing and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. The rain and dirt was still pelting his exposed skin. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wake up, or calm down. He knew it was just a dream....and dreams couldn't hurt you, but he was afraid...very afraid. He knew he shouldn't be afraid for the horses in the barn that he knew he didn't own. But he was. He knew he shouldn't be afraid of the storm, but he was. And he was afraid it was coming.
He didn't know what it was, couldn't remember the name his Mum's people had called it in the old country......but he could remember what the name meant. It translated roughly to the gatherer in the storm.
It was that gatherer that his Mum had told him had killed his Poppaw. Killed him because he had forgotten the old ways, because his children weren't learning the sacred rituals. Anciet ceremonies.
Mum said the old gods were jealous and vengeful. The matriarchal clan societies had made ritualistic sacrifices to appease these wrathful and punitive dieties until their societies had turned patriarchal and sacrifice had been replaced with ceremony.
He slowly made his way across the back yard. He was crying. Crying because of the stinging wind and the dirt in his eyes....and because he was very, very afraid now. Crying beacause he was realizing it wasn't a dream. An oppressive, blanketing fear soaked into his bones and the inevitableness of it all washed over him.
The barn was slipping away into the storm and the darkness gathered in the fields like a tidal wave. His legs were trembling so bad he thought he might fall.
His mind reeled as a patch of air condensed and grew thicker and darker right in front of him. It shimmered, not with light, but with the abscence of light, forming into an amorphous figure of pure maleavolent power. The darkness filled his vision as he sagged to his knees and thought that maybe lightening did kill his Poppaw as he watched the plasmatically electrical display beginning inside the coalescing presense.
His hair stood on end. An euphoric expression adorned his face and visible static electricity roiled over his body as he happily gave himself to the darkness. Just as he made contact with the now solid darkness, the euphoria gave way to an eternal instant of terror in it's basest form. The scream that started in his lungs never made it out of his mouth.
The spring night crackled with electricity for an elongayed moment. The rain stopped, the clouds parted, the wind died down and the light show ended. He lay smoldering in the back yard. The April shower over.
His sisters and his Mum watched from the back porch, hands clasped, murmuring the ancient words and drawing the arcane symbols in the night sky.
When he was a small boy, his Mum woulda already had them all huddled in the cellar. She had been in a bad storm when she was younger than he was now. Her Poppa had died in that storm when he'd left the storm cellar to check on the livestock. So she'd been obsessed with storms all his ife.
Gramma had quickly followed close behind Poppaw up the cellar steps, Mum's older sisters following close behind them. Gramma telling the smaller children to stay in the cellar til she got back. They had an oil lantern for light and the youngest kids played jacks while the slightly older kids whispered amongst themselves and tended the babies.
Poppaw had died about halfway across the back yard, he lay there still smoldering. It was assumed that he'd been hit by lightening. And that's what the coroner put on the death certificate. But Gramma knew that lightening hadn't struck here. Nothing was smoking or burnt, nothing but him. The sherriff said it had to be lightening, so that's what all the official reports said.
Both Mum's brother's died within the next 4 years.
Matter of fact, he was the only living male left in his Mum's side of the family that he knew of.
Mum had told him stories....stories meant to scare kids on dark nights. Stories about the old ways, in the old days. And that's what he was thinking now as he struggled against the storm.
He wished he didn't have to deal with this right now. Wished his Mum was just batshit crazy and a stay at a home would be enough to remedy the problem....then he immediately felt bad for thinking like that. But the alternative was a real motherfucker. A drink, that's what he needed. A fuckin drink...big one....definately.
The wind whipped his hair and the rain stung his face and arms. The trees were swaying wildly in the heavy wind. Clouds churned overhead. The wind was picking dirt, small debris and leaves off the lawn and whipping them around, making it hard to see.
He didn't remember having draft horses, he had John Deere, but he knew he had to get to the barn and tend to them before they all broke their legs from jumping around in their stalls, scared of the storm.
He suddenly realized he was his Poppaw. He was running as hard as he could, but he wasn't getting anywhere. It was like he was running on a treadmill...... a treadmill in molasses.
That's when he knew it was a dream. It was always like that in dreams. Now he felt better, now that he knew it was just a dream, he wasn't afraid. Sometimes when he knew he was having a dream, he could wake himself up...................
"Ok......this wasn't one of those times", he thought as the weather battered him.
His heart was racing and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. The rain and dirt was still pelting his exposed skin. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wake up, or calm down. He knew it was just a dream....and dreams couldn't hurt you, but he was afraid...very afraid. He knew he shouldn't be afraid for the horses in the barn that he knew he didn't own. But he was. He knew he shouldn't be afraid of the storm, but he was. And he was afraid it was coming.
He didn't know what it was, couldn't remember the name his Mum's people had called it in the old country......but he could remember what the name meant. It translated roughly to the gatherer in the storm.
It was that gatherer that his Mum had told him had killed his Poppaw. Killed him because he had forgotten the old ways, because his children weren't learning the sacred rituals. Anciet ceremonies.
Mum said the old gods were jealous and vengeful. The matriarchal clan societies had made ritualistic sacrifices to appease these wrathful and punitive dieties until their societies had turned patriarchal and sacrifice had been replaced with ceremony.
He slowly made his way across the back yard. He was crying. Crying because of the stinging wind and the dirt in his eyes....and because he was very, very afraid now. Crying beacause he was realizing it wasn't a dream. An oppressive, blanketing fear soaked into his bones and the inevitableness of it all washed over him.
The barn was slipping away into the storm and the darkness gathered in the fields like a tidal wave. His legs were trembling so bad he thought he might fall.
His mind reeled as a patch of air condensed and grew thicker and darker right in front of him. It shimmered, not with light, but with the abscence of light, forming into an amorphous figure of pure maleavolent power. The darkness filled his vision as he sagged to his knees and thought that maybe lightening did kill his Poppaw as he watched the plasmatically electrical display beginning inside the coalescing presense.
His hair stood on end. An euphoric expression adorned his face and visible static electricity roiled over his body as he happily gave himself to the darkness. Just as he made contact with the now solid darkness, the euphoria gave way to an eternal instant of terror in it's basest form. The scream that started in his lungs never made it out of his mouth.
The spring night crackled with electricity for an elongayed moment. The rain stopped, the clouds parted, the wind died down and the light show ended. He lay smoldering in the back yard. The April shower over.
His sisters and his Mum watched from the back porch, hands clasped, murmuring the ancient words and drawing the arcane symbols in the night sky.
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