Friday, February 18, 2011

The King Of Limbs

The new Radiohead album, entitled The King Of Limbs is now available online. Enjoy the music. Enjoy the day.

Shortest Short Story #3

30,000 feet above the Atlantic I am alone, surrounded my a myriad of quiet soles.
Traveling away from the ones you love,
or towards lands afar.
The cabin is sterile, quiet, censored.

Sweet Home Alabama is the in flight movie,
and once the plot reaches the climax,
Reese Witherspoon's slightly overweight father cheers,
"The South Has Risen Again."

I cry.

Not for the south, or Reese Witherspoon, or even that at any conceivable moment this plane could plunge into the icy waters below.

Somewhere a tree is turning 10,000 years old. It is having a birthday party.
This tree has seen everything. A witness to the passage of time.

You and this tree now have all the answers.
I cry because I don't.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A Moment: A Year

I hope this passage helps everyone as much as it helped me.

"Let me share this. I can do it any way you want, too -- I can do it funny, or maudlin, or just straight, uninfected -- anything. You tell me. I can do it sad, or inspirational, or angry. It's all there, all these things at once, so it's up to you -- you choose, you pick. Give me something. Quid pro quo. I promise I will be good. I will be sad and hopeful. I will be the conduit. I will be the beating heart. Please see this! I am the common multiplier for 47 million! I am the perfect amalgam! I was born of both stability and chaos. I have seen nothing and everything. I am twenty-four but feel ten thousand years old. I am emboldened by youth, unfettered and hopeful, though inextricably tied to the past and future by my beautiful brother, who is part of both. Can you not see that we're extraordinary? That we were meant for something else, something more? All this did not happen to us for naught, I can assure you -- there is no logic to that, there is logic only in assuming that we suffered for a reason. Just give us our due. I am bursting with the hopes of a generation, their hopes surge through me, threaten to burst my hardened heart! Can you not see this? I am at once pitiful and monstrous, I know, and this is all my own making, I know -- not the fault of my parents but all my own creation, yes, but I am the product of my environment, and thus representative, must be exhibited, as inspiration and cautionary tale. Can you not see what I represent? I am both a) martyred moralizer and b) amoral omnivore born of the suburban vacuum + idleness + television + Catholicism + alcoholism + violence; I am a freak in secondhand velour, a leper who uses L'Oreal Anti-sticky Mega Gel. I am rootless, ripped from all foundations, an orphan raisingan orphan and wanting to take away everything there is and replace it with stuff I've made. I have nothing but my friends and what's left of my little family. I need community, I need feedback, I need love, connection, give-and-take -- I will bleed if they will love. Let me try. Let me prove. I will pluck my hair, will remove my skin, I will stand before you feeble and shivering. I will open a vein, an artery. Pass over me at your peril! I could die soon. I probably already have AIDS. Or cancer. Something bad will happen to me, I know, I know this because I have seen it so many times. I will be shot in an elevator. I will be swallowed in a sinkhole, will drown, so I need to bring this message now; I only have so much time, I know that sounds ridiculous, I seem young, healthy, strong, but things happen, I know you may not think so, but things happen to those around me, they truly do, you'll see, so I need to grab this while I can, because I could go at any minute, Laura, Mother, Father, God -- Oh please let me show this to millions. Let me be the lattice, the center of the lattice. Let me be the conduit. There are all these hearts, and mine is strong, if there are -- there are! -- capillaries that bring blood to millions, that we are all of one body and that I am -- Oh, I want to be the heart pumping blood to everyone, blood is what I know, I feel so warm in blood, can swim in blood, oh let me be the strong-beating heart that brings blood to everyone! I want --"

- Dave Eggers "A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius"

Monday, February 14, 2011

New Radiohead Album

A freak out in 313. A dream realized.

It will be available to download on Saturday, in a variety of options. I have already preordered my copy. I implore you all to do the same.

Now for bed.

Shortest Short Story #2

I saw birds flock in the snowy earth.
The cold air was a haze.
Power lines towered over tall trees.
The sunlit field was an unnerving green.

All you future old men and women mark the great wastefulness of your concerns today.
Tomorrow it will be your cruelest and most bitter bane.

And then they all ate ice cream*

*For someone

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Grapevine

Tommy told Glen, who told Morgan, to talk to Steve about Casandra, but Steve had to lie to Morgan because Molly first talked to Steve about Casandra, making him promise to lie to Morgan when Tommy asked Glen to tell Morgan to talk to Steve.


Steve had feelings for Molly but didn't trust anyone with his secret except for George, but Jack, owning the rights to George's mortal being, told George to tell him about any secret feelings Steve exhibited towards Molly, this scheme was all due to Jack having secret feelings towards Molly. However, Jack was dating Stephanie, but still felt an odd sense of ownership over Molly. He tried to blame it on his eating habits, but that excuse didn't fly. By the way, George and Molly were secretly fucking. Both Steve and Jack were oblivious to this fact until Max's cousin Lucas ran into both George and Molly at a party. The cute couple wasn't wearing clothes, and this fact was soon distributed across the internet via Facebook and Twitter.

At the same time

A text message was responded to by an email, after a call was placed. The caller was put on hold until he was told to email his supervisor who would then have a Skype meeting with corporate over in Dubai. After having the supervisor Skype with a translator, who then faxed the transcript over to corporate over in Dubai, who then had a lawyer peruse the document. Some weeks after the fact, corporate over in Dubai sent the caller a letter, but it was lost in the mail, and a few weeks later, a mail room intern, forwarded him a generic response. This email was electronically placed under Spam. Shocked at the lack of response, the caller emailed his supervisor, who responded with a text, after receiving a long telegram from corporate over in Dubai.

Static, Static, Static, Static, Static, Static.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

RIP Brian Jacques

Brian Jacques, the beloved British author of the Redwall series, died of a heart attack over the weekend at age 71.
Hailed as one of “the best children’s authors in the world,” Jacques’ 21 Redwall books were translated into 29 languages and sold 20 million copies worldwide. His novels — despite centering on anthropomorphic woodland critters, such as mice, otters, moles, and squirrels — told epic tales of good triumphing over evil and never spoke down to their young audiences. When I was nine years old I finished Martin the Warrior, the third installment of the series, and remained in a daze for an entire afternoon. The characters had grown dear to me, and when a few of the most lovable ones died in the final battle scene, I felt genuine loss but also a sense that I was better for having known them. It was the book that cemented me as a reader for the rest of my life — I’d discovered what it was like to have such connection to a story, and I wanted to have it again and again.
With the news of Jacques’ death, I want to go through my closet and dig up those dusty childhood books I haven’t read in more than a decade. I know I’ll find them — Jacques’ novels aren’t ones you ever throw out.

I guess this is what it feels like to age.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Latest Script

I just completed a first draft of the script I have been working on since November. In a day filled with varying emotions, it's nice to have an elated ending.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Shortest Short Story

Look at me! I'm so shiny, I'm so new, so fresh.
Look at my scraped knee! I'm so adventurous. Lol!
I stare at my grandmother, I can't imagine my end.
Will I really end?
The end.