Parrot, Old San Juan 

Waves breaking on offshore reef, PR 

Harborside, Old San Juan 

El Morro, Old San Juan 

El Morro, Old San Juan 

Big waves, San Juan, PR 

Dear Transit Workers:

Thanks for allowing me to stay home and work from my bed, in my 'jamas. I think that's totally rad and a great Christmas present. However, in the face of the 11-day transit strike back in '80, and the fact that most people don't have the balls to ask for crazy-ass raises and benefits, as well as the billions that will be lost because of the strike, I do have to second Kat from Bitch on the Street in saying "So you want to retire at 50. Who doesn't? I have to wait until I'm 62...you should too."

Thanks again, Bitches!

Karinatrix: i think jesus hates me
MrsJayeGott: of course he does. you're a jew.
Karinatrix: i'm trying to disguise myself
Karinatrix: as a catholic
Karinatrix: but jesus knows...
Karinatrix: he knows...

AARON: "Not an existential crisis. Just the opposite. I was fine when existence had no meaning. Meaninglessness in a universe that has no meaning -- that I get. But meaninglessness in a universe with meaning? What does that mean?"

JAYE: "It doesn't mean anything."

Wonderfalls, episode "Muffin Buffalo"

this show kind of RULES.

i had a dream this weekend that a bunch of folks, andy, scott, sarah, and so forth had gone in on Mega Millions lottery jackpot tickets together. God had promised us a winner, but then God died without telling anyone about our agreement, and so all our plans were ruined.

...then the killer flu struck and we were screwed because we hadn't been able to afford our island compound.

Caroline

please play along
everything you say
can and will be used against me
so damn it, sing with the verses,
so we can't say the words
it broke the bank, the last coin in the dark
the clink of the ice in the lees of my drink
like coins in little grandma coin-purses
though even there, they fall far
all the way to the bottom
my heart is broken, it's broken

tory: what's wonderfalls?
vanessa: what's that sound?
vanessa: it sounds like you're stepping on ducks
vanessa: no, wait, maybe it sounds like you're juggling ducks
tory: and i'm biting their heads off
vanessa: you'll run out of them very quickly if you do that, and have to order more
vanessa: ducks...
tory: they last forever if you videotape them

Rest you at the water

this is the strange classroom
where the test is being given and taken
this floor is like a ship on the sea

the light from the windows is cold
the tide is going out forever, the questions lack answers
and our teacher will not see.
my classmates are crying, sleeping, scratching their ears and their heads,
shuffling their exam papers like oversized tarot cards
but the future is elsewhere

this is the ship that crossed time
the pirates that come aboard are shot with revolvers, and slung overboard like anchors
they sink into black water-dreams
this ship crosses over minutes of sheet-rustling and pillow breath, buoyantly

deep in the heart of our vessel, where the youngest children hide, is the ice room.
if you open the porthole window, you can smell the sweetest air in the world.

drink your tea, lean out over the sea.
we are coming to a stop,
the avenue comes to an end at a red brick wall.
beyond it is a mystery, sleeping,
but it's time to get up:
when ships come to port in a paved lot -
when the dark companion evaporates -
and there's light coming in from the shutters -
from white drops of melted snow

the secret word is all in layers
winding like a shroud, or like these water-bearing clouds,
and all the way out to the cocoon of bare nothing
that we shelter from, beneath their rumbling rich buzz of air.
when i extend my bare leg,
and point my bare white foot to the earth, toes folding down to meet,
i touch directly to the mystery of life that clings to it, like mildew, like thought to these bodies,
and nesting within that old fire, a white lodestone like the full moon.
no force in the universe can stop it.
this secret is the only one that holds from the soul
to the black that exhales forever, out there, until there is no more air.
this secret.

"Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me

Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't coming back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me

There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me..."

-joss whedon, 'ballad of serenity'

there is a man

this is the story i tell myself:
the best lie, the secret that is like hoping,
something like dreaming, like truth
like at the bottom of the ocean,
where the sand makes snake-trails across the seabed.
if you dive down, first filling your lungs with air,
when you brush the sand away,
what hides beneath?

have you heard the cedar waxwing?
a songless bird with voracious appetite
a bird that cannot sing, or speak,
so how is anyone to know?

why the brown old city, ruled by the chaff-men and their straw wives?
why only the dinosaur coelacanth,
why the blackened brick buildings,

why filthy gum, ground into the mica, frozen in concrete,
why thin nylon, held together with machine-chained stitches?

i seem to recall that
i have seen cormorants and have ground cochineal
i walked the cool blue water's edge, collected caracoles,
i stood painted in carnelian, onyx and mussel-shell purple
but here they call it 6,6 dibromo-indigo

Prophetic Dreams Obtain

All the way at the top of the hill,
the wrecked car is curled up
like a maimed cat
Leading to it in a trail, your blood is represented by
cardboard discs in deepening shades of gray
Was it meant to be?
The talking dog told me otherwise,
but gods in dog-guise tell lies,
of this there is proof
yet, the turtles who scrape and paddle
in every bucket of lake-water
are a mute warning with each lap against the rim
some are leaf-brown
and crowned with crenellations
and others have green shells, painted with
candy-apple dabbles
Apples and turtles and pomegranate and palm oil
are offerings to Changó
who also accepts the blood of birds.
But I am always fleeing:
when will I stop and fight?

The Good Compass

Getting lost in the white woods
Is as natural as sleep
The TV’s speech about injured animals
Spaying pigs, pregnant chameleons, sick old pit-bulls with trembling legs,
Hear me!
It spreads like black pigment into white gouache
And the hobbled dray-horse pulls a wagonload of
Raw and weeping wood, fragrant,
Along the rutted snow-road

The long walk
Along these ruts
Where my eye picks out houses in the landscape
And my own maps appear amid the scrawls
Where I aim my camera at the stars
As dawn’s blinking, yawning light
Crowns a ginko tree
Of gold so bright it heals a little
Of the cut I gave myself getting out of bed

But despite the earliness of the hour
We make it back to the road
Past houses full of doors
Past driveways full of sneaky hollows
Past trees with deep roots and shaky branches
Reaching up to tickle the belly of the clouds
Past church-bells of wind caught in the icicles
Past snags of lambswool stuck up on the sharp blue sky
Rich smell of lanolin and sap and snow
This pause is a cool liminal violet:
Hush.
There is a moment, here, of peace,
There is comfort in a good sense of direction

Wow

So I'm all better now, but jeez. I don't think I've ever been that sick, since I've been a grown-up person, at least. I'm still not 100% - the head is still throbby and I moving kind of slowly - but I'm back at work and while that's depressing, it's also nice that I'm not dead, as I devoutly wished on Monday afternoon, for instance. The flu, kids. Get your shots.

i am having illness

dude, it sucks to be sick. i've been having stabbing pain in my left side for two days, and last night those were joined by muscle aches, chills and fever. so i have an emergency appointment with herr doktor goldberg this afternoon. as you may know, i harbor a deep fear of doctors, which i usually try to overlook. but since this is now officially the sickest i've ever felt without having a hangover or a bad cold, i am now beginning to be disticntly ill-at-ease.

Signs of the Apocalypse: III
Crispin "the Thin Man" Glover and Courtney "Who?" Peldon on a Halloween Date

Some people worry about bird flu (like me) and some people get all bent out of shape about liver cancer and accidental enucleation with a careless umbrella (me, me) but what really ought to get us thinking about the ultimate and soon-to-arrive fin of the monde is the fact that these people (morons) actually make more money than we do. Yep. Jesus is on his way. It's almost over, for which we may be (are) profoundly grateful.

...Now I have to go back to wearing black and worrying about stuff, instead of the 'working' that I would prefer to be doing if any of my agencies had any kizzash, or if I had any real talent. But don't cry for me, bloggies. It's almost over.

and then we'remageddonouttahere!

Peace. Forever.

Sweet.

Hawkinses and Bartels 

hawkinses II 

hawkinses 

the cheshire, menage a trois 

rick james, bitch 

the darkness of memory 

not the sort of thing you would expect to find in the front window of a nursing home, but there it is... 

east st. louis 

...jesus 

until your tongue and mouth go numb
from the white, christian snow
kicked up by skaters,
you are borne up on hymns
from the congregation
singing Gloria!
in the middle of the rink
all around, the rooms of ice are bounded by wooden doors
like souls are held in flesh


changeling children
ranked as cousins,
second, third and so on,
lodge themselves in the footwell
and take over the pedals
over highway overpasses and exchanges,
over clover-leaves that you can only see from heaven

Peter Gibbons: So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that's on the worst day of my life.
Dr. Swanson: What about today? Is today the worst day of your life?
Peter Gibbons: Yeah.
Dr. Swanson: Wow, that's messed up.


if i won a million dollars, i'd audit classes at universities and work part time at an aquarium and a zoo. i'd travel everywhere, by myself and with family and friends, and i'd have an apartment in brooklyn, a house in maine and a house on the beach in mexico.

come on, Mega Millions.

i'll also accept donations, of course.

I don't like to talk about my flair: meep meep
Eschatus: sup sup?
I don't like to talk about my flair: eh
I don't like to talk about my flair: hung over
I don't like to talk about my flair: bored
Eschatus: that was me yesterday
I don't like to talk about my flair: filled with haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate
Eschatus: today, I am the winner!
I don't like to talk about my flair: er?
Eschatus: A) not hung over B) passing performance tests, so commission for me!
I don't like to talk about my flair: oh
I don't like to talk about my flair: good!
Eschatus: yesterday was just ugly. Woke up absolutely fucking ruined next to some strange british girl I picked up in the hotel bar (so, good and bad)
Eschatus: why you filled with hate?
I don't like to talk about my flair: my boss
I don't like to talk about my flair: he is the root of all evil.
I don't like to talk about my flair: he is so rooty and so evil
I don't like to talk about my flair: that i wrote a poem about it
Eschatus: /me is reminded of a Sepultura song.
I don't like to talk about my flair: really?
I don't like to talk about my flair: lyrics?
Eschatus: the name of the song is "Roots Bloody Roots", Sepultura not known for lyrical genius; That said: Evil and Rooty immediately summoned a mental image of a long haired zoftig Brazilian screaming the above all Gravel throat.
I don't like to talk about my flair: not really my bag, as you know
Eschatus: indeed
I don't like to talk about my flair: nessa is more of an indie-rock person. elvis costello.
Eschatus: /me is really more a prog rock type: ala Clutch or Tool
Eschatus: but I had my metal daze.
I don't like to talk about my flair: hee. tool!
Eschatus: Tool ftw, yo!
I don't like to talk about my flair: ftw? furry theater wiz?
Eschatus: For The Win
I don't like to talk about my flair: fat tooty wig?
I don't like to talk about my flair: ooh
I don't like to talk about my flair: so
Eschatus: so howsa weather back home?
I don't like to talk about my flair: pretty
I don't like to talk about my flair: brisk
I don't like to talk about my flair: unrainy
I don't like to talk about my flair: mercifully unrainy
Eschatus: sounds about the same here
Eschatus: though it was 70 all week until yesterday
Eschatus: supposed to snow just in time for me to be flying home
I don't like to talk about my flair: sheesh
I don't like to talk about my flair: do you just stay in a hotel the whole time you're there?
Eschatus: no
I don't like to talk about my flair: how are ferd and jane and tammy and the fat one?
I don't like to talk about my flair: brian?
I don't like to talk about my flair: Brian!
Eschatus: drove up to Boulder last night to see my friend steff from brain camp
I don't like to talk about my flair: i thought you were in the UK
I don't like to talk about my flair: oh, wait
I don't like to talk about my flair: you just picked up a british chick
I don't like to talk about my flair: in colorado. ok.
Eschatus: ferd's crazy, mom's sober, tammy's well and her son is adorable, brian's a loser, robb's a loser, tracy has a 3.98 in school and has received a scholarship to rutgers
I don't like to talk about my flair: SON?!
Eschatus: (she's doing the 2 at community & 2 at university thing)
I don't like to talk about my flair: how crazy?
Eschatus: you know, as crazy as he ever was
I don't like to talk about my flair: nice.
I don't like to talk about my flair: um
I don't like to talk about my flair: well
I don't like to talk about my flair: wow
I don't like to talk about my flair: SON?!
I don't like to talk about my flair: tammy has a child?!
I don't like to talk about my flair: she's younger than me!
Eschatus: You do remember that Tammy is my older sister, right?
Eschatus: by 7 years
I don't like to talk about my flair: what is the little one called?
Eschatus: Tracy
I don't like to talk about my flair: d'oh!
I don't like to talk about my flair: no child?
Eschatus: no child
Eschatus: 3.98
I don't like to talk about my flair: hee
Eschatus: scholarship
I don't like to talk about my flair: i was impressed
I don't like to talk about my flair: by the crotchfruit/high GPA combo
Eschatus: no crotchdroppings from my clan.
I don't like to talk about my flair: but equally impressed by the GPA on it's own merits
I don't like to talk about my flair: Go Tracy!
Eschatus: yeah, she's skills.
Eschatus: still creepy and mostly silent
Eschatus: but I loves her.
I don't like to talk about my flair: awesome. she was the cutest child.
I don't like to talk about my flair: remember when we cleaned her room and i got strep throat and passed out?
Eschatus: she's living near trenton now with a boyfriend who i can't stand
Eschatus: and yes, I do.
I don't like to talk about my flair: i will never, ever, ever in my life
I don't like to talk about my flair: EVER
I don't like to talk about my flair: forget that.
I don't like to talk about my flair: hee
Eschatus: hehe
I don't like to talk about my flair: tampons? check
Eschatus: /me keeps his place immaculate.
I don't like to talk about my flair: bag of goo?
I don't like to talk about my flair: check!
I don't like to talk about my flair: slimfast dinners? yep
I don't like to talk about my flair: strings of (lit) xmas lights?
I don't like to talk about my flair: those too!
Eschatus: yes yes, clearly a den of insanity
Eschatus: /me lived there, he couldn't have missed it.
I don't like to talk about my flair: it was archeology at its very finest
I don't like to talk about my flair: i remember it fondly
I don't like to talk about my flair: jane sober!
Eschatus: really? I look back on it in a mixture of horror and revulsion.
I don't like to talk about my flair: yes, but it was your childhood, see
Eschatus: indeed
Eschatus: and yeah, she's clean for about 2 years now.
Eschatus: though, unless i was totally oblivious, she didn't really develop a drinking problem until she had the gastric bypass.
I don't like to talk about my flair: yeah you had mentioned
I don't like to talk about my flair: so now she is both thin and sober?
Eschatus: thin is relative.
Eschatus: but yes
Eschatus: she's probably still about 180.
Eschatus: but she was much heavier
I don't like to talk about my flair: yes
I don't like to talk about my flair: hm
Eschatus: how about Felix and Mirta?
I don't like to talk about my flair: my mom lost about fifty pounds
I don't like to talk about my flair wants to send file C:\Documents and Settings\vbsoto\My Documents\My Pictures\Summer '05\IMG_2997.jpg.
Eschatus received C:\Documents and Settings\vbsoto\My Documents\My Pictures\Summer '05\IMG_2997.jpg.
I don't like to talk about my flair: u like picture
Eschatus: wow, mamma's all skinny
I don't like to talk about my flair: nothing like drunk mom and orange boyfriend
Eschatus: hehe
I don't like to talk about my flair: yeah
I don't like to talk about my flair: she's like 103 pounds now and gives me shit about my weight all the time
I don't like to talk about my flair: she's got a good grip on that glass of Absolut Vanilla
Eschatus: last I saw you, you were still quite smoking, so she can go scratch
I don't like to talk about my flair: hee
I don't like to talk about my flair: that's what i think
I don't like to talk about my flair: but you know my mom
I don't like to talk about my flair: she's whatcha might call picky
Eschatus: and probably pissed that you're not married yet.
Eschatus: every time I talk to the black widow she hounds me about when she's getting some grandkids out of me.
Eschatus: I don't have it in me to defy her to her face with protestations of a gene pool so badly damaged that procreation would be tantamount to war crime.
I don't like to talk about my flair: i get the line
I don't like to talk about my flair: "That's okay. Your father and I have gotten used to the fact that you're never going to get married. (pause) OR have children."
I don't like to talk about my flair: the OR is significant because it means they wouldn't put it past me to breed out of wedlock
Eschatus: /me and then she presses her wrist to her forehead and swoons.
I don't like to talk about my flair: u see
I don't like to talk about my flair: perfectly my dear
Eschatus: I get the:
Eschatus: "I don't have much longer...When do I get to see some grandchildren?"
Eschatus: from Ann "The Black Widow" Drohan
I don't like to talk about my flair: oh jesus
Eschatus: and for a 4'11" frail little thing, she manages to convey a great deal of malice.
I don't like to talk about my flair: and you're all
I don't like to talk about my flair: "TRYING NOT TO BE A LOSER, HERE, MOTHER!"
Eschatus: oh my Mom's fine with it
I don't like to talk about my flair: "JOB-HAVING"
Eschatus: her mother's evil, it's why I respect her so.
I don't like to talk about my flair: "GENDER-APPROPRIATE CLOTHING WEARING'
I don't like to talk about my flair: "APPROVED BMI HAVING"!!!
Eschatus: I could do with a 10lb loss, but who couldnt.
I don't like to talk about my flair: my bmi is "hot buttered fudge"

Pastellita says:
Erik and i are going to move to the Cayman Islands and start an Oysters Rockefeller and turtles farm.
Tory says:
mmmm, turtles
Pastellita says:
hee
Pastellita says:
no, silly
Pastellita says:
the turtles are PETS. PETS!!
Tory says:
if god wanted us to keep turtles as pets, he wouldn't have made them out of meat
Pastellita says:
ha
Pastellita says:
what would he have made them out of?
Pastellita says:
peanut butter?
Pastellita says:
celery?
Tory says:
scissors.

Signs of the Apocalypse: Part III

"Murder Rate Hits 40-Year Low
- - - - - - - - - - - -
By MICHAEL J. SNIFFEN Associated Press Writer

October 17,2005 WASHINGTON -- The nation's murder rate declined last year for the first time in four years, dropping to the lowest level in 40 years. Experts said local rather than national trends were mostly responsible.
The rates for all seven major crimes were down and the overall violent crime rate reached a 30-year low, according to the FBI's annual compilation of crimes reported to the police.
There were 391 fewer murders nationwide in 2004 than the year before. The total of 16,137 worked out to 5.5 murders for every 100,000 people.
That's a decline of 3.3 percent from 2003 and the lowest murder rate since 1965, when it was 5.1."

Are you, like me, wondering how the suicide rate is looking?
well, i'll tell ya.
According to the CDC, suicide took the lives of 30,622 people in 2001 (CDC 2004).
That's up from 29,199 Americans in 1999.

It seems to me that you're in some trouble when folks would rather kill themselves than other people.

Signs of the Apocalypse: Part Deux

Rick Moranis releases Country Music album.
Here, finally, is the apotheosis of Western Civilization. We have met the enemy, and he shrunk the kids.



From the press kit: "it sure was a hoot."

okay so before we get started, i'd just like to say

this white pill is
seawater in my nose
and this blue one with the orange letters
is a long head-cold
these tiny ones in four rows
are rows and rows of little toes
and the two yellow saucers
which take the headache away with them
leave ice cubes and bananas and partly-cloudy in its place
it's return of the living dead part
approximately ten thousand one hundred and thirty-four
so give me a break
this green stuff is for kids
and the red drops and orange drops for sleep and sneezing
were gifts from my evil stepmother
but you can't keep a good girl up
past twelve
no seriously, that too,
also, you can't keep a good girl
away from her uppers- and-downers-
that's just rude.

Signs of the Apocalypse: Part 1

1. My Fair Brady
Here is a television show so blandly awful that it's clear entropy has already given way to the clammy, decrepit sameness of chaos. Thanks a lot, show.

I'm sure this will be a recurring feature.

new from slashdot

KING MORGAN ENTERPRISES Launches http://www.Shop.KingMorgan.com

NEW YORK-September 27, 2005 KME® today launched its revolutionary online store, giving "Loyal Subjects" the same innovative features, breakthrough pricing, seamless integration with http://www.KingMorgan.com and groundbreaking personal uses that have made King Morgan the number one online service in the world. With countless products, plus KME's legendary ease of use and pioneering features such as built-in support for product sizing, www.Shop.KingMorgan.com is the best way for loyal subjects around the world to discover, purchase and consume KME products online. http://www.Shop.KingMorgan.com is poised to be the number one online store with over 500 million products purchased and shipped worldwide, and will work seamlessly with all existing KME products.

"KME and ttp://www.Shop.KingMorgan.com are leading the digital revolution," said Chicken Sinatra, KME's Executive Marketing Director. "We are thrilled to be bringing these quality KME products to the world, and hope all our loyal subjects will love it as much as others around the world do." In celebration of the http://www.Shop.KingMorgan.com global launch, KME is hosting live music performances throughout the fall at all of our retail locations world-wide. Check www.KingMorgan.com for details, along with www.Kyote.KingMorgan.com

Pricing & Availability http://www.Shop.KingMorgan.com for Mac and Windows includes products with many of our most popular slogans. Purchase shirts, hats, messenger bags, mugs, thongs and clocks with "King Morgan is My Co-Pilot" or "Your Servitude is Greatly Appreciated" tag-lines, along with "I am a Loyal Subject" to show your devotion to our glorious CEO. You can also view our newest catch phrases such as "Ask Your Doctor if King Morgan is right for you" and "King Morgan Loves Me". www.Shop.KingMorgan.com requires a valid credit card with a billing address in the country of purchase. All proceeds from the site go directly to spreading the word of our lord and savior, King Morgan.

KME ignited the capitalist revolution in the 1970s with King Morgan and reinvented the internet in the 1990s with www.KingMorgan.com. Today, King Morgan continues to lead the industry in innovation with its award-winning image studios and record label (Sonic Enterprises). KME is now also spearheading the digital revolution with http://www.Shop.KingMorgan.com.


Press Contacts:
Chicken Sinatra
King Morgan Enterprises 718.644.0887 Iwork@KingMorgan.com

Valentine Monsterface
King Morgan Enterprises 718.644.0887 Iwork@KingMorgan.com

NOTE TO EDITORS: For additional information visit http://www.kingmorgan.com/KMEpr.htm or call King Morgan's Media Helpline at (718) 644-0887. King Morgan Enterprises, the KME logo, and Space Kyote are trademarks of King Morgan Enterprises. Other company and product names may be trademarks of their respective owners. http://www.KingMorgan.com
Artistic Expression through Capitalist Propaganda http://www.Shop.KingMorgan.com

For the Loyal Subject in all of us

Long Live the King!

family 

hurricane rita, feeder bands 

einstein on the beach 

avion 

michele 8 

michele 7 

michele 6 

michele 5 

michele 4