Short Short Thinger II

and it seemed that as soon as i closed my eyes they were open again. but the oth­er side: hel/nirvana/heaven/purgatory/hell what­ev­er you call it, was kind of bor­ing. just shades of dead folks walk­ing around look­ing apa­thet­ic. it sucked. i’d rather expect­ed a par-tay.

so i went back.

and now i’m stuck, ghost­writ­ing in rather strange ways. i can pos­sess things now. for instance, since i have no cor­po­re­al exis­tence i had to pos­sess this com­put­er to write. its pret­ty fun flick­ing around elec­trons. i guess i’m a lawn­mow­er man. but its hard­er to con­cen­trate with noth­ing to keep my ether held togeth­er but my will.

you don’t real­ly need exor­cism or any­thing like that to get rid of ghosts, just dis­tract them, then turn on a fan.

anoth­er thing, i thought i was just on the oth­er side for a moment or two, but when i came back i was already old dry bones. you see, the eas­i­est spot to reap­pear is in your old body. i guess an affin­i­ty always remains. but i’d long since rot­ted and all that was left in my ossuary were my bones and an anti­so­cial spi­der.

once i got the hang of being ethe­re­al it was pret­ty fun. i can go through walls, but not with ease. will­ing myself through things takes a lot of ener­gy, thats why when you see a ghost come out of a wall they are all pale. nor­mal­ly we look more along the lines of a col­ored over­head trans­paren­cy. i can move as fast as my thought across open spaces how­ev­er.

i thought i’d check out my fam­i­ly, just for old times sake. they were all dead too. so i became one of those ances­tral ghosts roam­ing and moan­ing the halls of the goth­ic cas­tle. or not quite. actu­al­ly i just chilled in the hous­es of my family’s descen­dents. every once in awhile when i wasn’t pay­ing atten­tion they would bump into me and get a chill.

why didn’t they see me? that’s easy, peo­ple only see ghosts when they know to look for them. its hard to catch one of us by sur­prise. after all we are pure will. it still got bor­ing after awhile. there is only so much you can do as a spec­tre. i could have picked up the whole rat­tling chains and wail­ing thing but instead i decid­ed i’d go find some moun­tains and roam around the peaks and val­leys.

after awhile i’m sure i’ll start to get the hang of it, my spir­it will melt into the land and you’ll be able to hear my chuck­le on crisp autumn evenings. it’ll prob­a­bly just sound like rustling leaves, but it’ll real­ly be me.

Short Short Thinger

it hurt them more than it hurt me, so of course i would put a brave face on it and lie to their eyes as i told them i was feel­ing health­i­er and would see them in the morn­ing. they couldn’t under­stand that i want­ed to die.

i was worn out, dying is a rough busi­ness and all i want­ed was some sleep. per­ma­nent­ly. they were being strong and lying to me with the same brave face, telling me i looked bet­ter and that they’d see me in the morn­ing. appar­ent­ly they thought i need­ed it.

i’m pret­ty sure they wouldn’t have been able to com­pre­hend that i was no longer suf­fer­ing. the pain had long ago leached all phys­i­cal sen­sa­tion from my body. i was already in the oth­er world, just tied to the body. when we are dying we are tru­ly ghosts.

any­way, i let them tell them­selves that they’d done their part and i watched them leave, pulling their doubt of my sur­vival through the night on with their coats. i didn’t quite know what i looked like any­more, but the blanch­ing faces of my fam­i­ly each time they came to vis­it let me know it nev­er got bet­ter. oh well, that hadn’t been my con­cern for quite some time.

i don’t wor­ry if they’ll be alright once i’m gone. its not that i don’t care, more like there is no point in wor­ry­ing because i’m going to die any­way.

still, once they all left, it was much eas­i­er. if i died in front of them i would have had to have put on a good show, death rat­tle and all. i didn’t want to dis­ap­point, besides every night they were expect­ing that phone call. i didn’t noti­fy any­one of my inten­tions, the release date was not pub­lic, just a pri­vate show­ing for my friend the bed pan. only one box office return for me, six feet down. so i closed my eyes.

Report Card

a protes­tant work eth­ic, cou­pled with a catholic guilt com­plex results in nev­erend­ing stress for me. i got back two midterms and a paper, a- on all three. good for me. how­ev­er, try­ing to get approval to shoot and to coor­di­nate 7 dif­fer­ent film shoots around everyone’s sched­ules and at the dif­fer­ent times in three weeks is almost impos­si­ble. not to men­tion that i have a prospec­tus and anno­tat­ed bib­li­og­ra­phy for one class, a quiz in anoth­er and a report due in yet anoth­er dur­ing this time. and in 5 years none of this will have mat­tered. in a 200, noth­ing i will have done will have mat­tered. how can i make a last­ing impact on the world? and why do i want to? is it fame or altru­ism?

Search Strings

a hand picked list of search strings that have result­ed in a hit on my site (there could be fun­nier ones, but I only see 50 and there are over 140 for this month):

  • dirty toe­nails
  • drunk and shaved my head
  • girls that are crosseyed
  • goth room­mate from hell
  • how to pre­vent a dis­lo­cat­ed kneecap
  • red­head­ed vir­gin catholic goth
  • a writ­ten descrip­tion of the appear­ance of a scary per­son
  • fund­ing cir­cus per­form­ers 2002 (my per­son­al favorite)

Space Age Toothbrush

of all the things to have space age design, tooth­brush­es should be rather far down on the list, but instead of dri­ving a car that runs off the con­stant bom­bard­ment of neu­tri­nos from space, my tooth­brush can do it all. I just bought it a few days ago. apart from the now stan­dard ergonom­ic body design guar­an­teed to clean those hard to reach back teeth, my tooth­brush also comes equipped with a unique micro­bris­tle design which cleans teeth bet­ter. the end of each reg­u­lar bris­tle has been cut into many small­er bristlettes, hence the micro­bris­tle. the split-ends of the don­tic world. it also has a flex­i­ble head to adjust to the con­tours of my mouth and a longer bris­tled tip to get behind those pesky back teeth again. Even the han­dle has been designed to fit nice­ly in the hand, it has sev­er­al ridges on it which mas­sage my thumb and fore­fin­ger for the whole minute and a half that i brush my teeth. The biggest sell­ing point of the brush is its brand-spank­ing-new ‘whiten­ing strip’ that curves between the bris­tles and appar­ent­ly will give me whiter teeth in a few short weeks. all it is: a piece of flim­sy rub­ber that acts like the auto­mat­ed car wash cloths on your teeth, a kind of back and forth slap­ping motion. Now, if they made an auto­mat­ed ver­sion that also gave me the morn­ing news, then it’d be per­fect. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, I can­na find a pic­ture of it for it appears that the men­tadent web­site is expe­ri­enc­ing tech­ni­cal dif­fi­cul­ties.

Shit Gets Crazy

8–0!!!!! Beat­ing our 4th ranked oppo­nent of the sea­son. Neal has unsuc­cess­ful­ly pre­dict­ed our loss for two straight weeks. Maybe now we’ll get some respect. i was sup­posed to get the sto­ry­boards and a paper typed over break, I com­plet­ed the sto­ry­boards, bare­ly, and didn’t do shite on the paper. Start­ing Mon­day shit gets crazy again until mid decem­ber.

7–0

back, from remenyik, could’ve done bet­ter, but did ok. ND is 7–0, next week­end vs. Flori­da State. i’m going home momen­tar­i­ly, no updates till next sat­ur­day. i love you all.