Posts tagged ‘humor’

2009/10/04

Clone

by mdjb

Oh I can’t believe it, she said, I can’t believe you’re telling me this. I wasn’t telling her anything and she wasn’t telling me. She was speaking to my clone. As soon as I knew she was stoned on something, I made an excuse to leave the room and I sent my clone in. He told me later this is what she said, I can’t believe you’re telling me this. I would have said no to her request but didn’t have the gumption. So I sent him in to do the dirty work.clone

Sally has a way of twisting everything round. She makes with the eyes and it’s hard to say no. It’s hard for me to say no to most people, but especially to Sally. I know, it’s the drugs talking. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t ask anyone for the time of day, but when she gets hopped up, she seems to think it’s everybody’s duty to be there for her. I know. I’ve been there.

That’s why I have the clone now – for those times when I feel uncomfortable in a situation. I just go hide in the bathroom and read a magazine. He says no or yes, depending, and relates the details to me later. He’s actually a more solid version of the person I’d like to be. When he speaks to me, (this may sound odd) I get turned on by seeing some part of myself expressing authority. It comes from the cells. Not the drugs – you can be sure.

Only this time, this time, Sally asked for money, a lot of money, to make a big deal and damn it all to hell, the clone cleaned out my bank account. He took it upon himself to make the decision. Well, he was persuaded. It’s in her eyes. Jesus, I would have done the same thing, but I was depending on him to be strong.

I’m not certain, but when he was explaining to me what happened, I think he was high. If Sally turned him on, if he’s getting the head that was meant for me, so help me, I’ll…

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2009/09/28

Flash Heart

by mdjb

Woke from a vivid dream. Hurriedly scribbled the details. Thought, “This has the makings of a brilliant tale—born of my unconscious.” Went back to sleep.

Next morning, upon rereading, thought, “Too abstruse. Lacks verisimilitude.” So, fleshed it out; smoothed the edges. 1006 words.

Showed it to a trusted friend, who said, “I don’t get it.”

Rewrote and pared for about a week. 902 words. Showed it again.

“Better,” he said, “But don’t like the ending.”

“My favorite part, damn! I’ll work on it.”

Took the opportunity to prune “–ly” words, excess “ands”; modified half the original vision. Tallied 727. Skipped the friend—posted directly to the online workshop.

Waited five days. Garnered five paltry reviews.

One remarked, “The ending is too upbeat.”

Second advised, “Cut ALL adverbs.” Did. 682 words.

Another complained, “Run-on sentences.” Tore away more conjunctions. 590 count.

Another suggested, “Lose the first, third and sixth graphs.” Performed surgery; at 348 words, its heart was still beating.

Number Five chimed, “Every word of Flash must have resonance. Use more colorful verbs.” Restructured. Had a 256-word piece that sang—to me; more surreal than the dream that woke me.

Reposted on the big board.

A newcomer carped, “I think Hemingway already wrote this.”

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2007/01/15

It’s My Belief We’re All Crazy

by mdjb

It’s my belief we’re all crazy. I think we have to be to survive without scars.

There is no point in trying to deny the healthy aspects of approaching the game from the other end of the terminal. If you try to play by the rules, someone with a wider perspective will find reason to oust you. Take the limited but keep an ear to the conductor’s announcements. There is more to be found at the next stop.

Sun comes up. Sun goes down. That’s all you need to remember.

Don’t make long term plans, but do listen to the weather report. It’s only guesswork.

Seventh son of a seventh son. No reason to think you’re blest in any degree.

Meet the regulars. Say hello. Don’t give out more information required than enough to get you a seat. It’s a long ride and you will grow tired standing. But again, be adaptable. As often as things are capable of change, they probably will. Keep your eyes peeled for an available seat, but if after three stops none becomes available, make your own. Sit on the floor.

Two men walk into a bar. That’s a different story.

If the sun doesn’t rise tomorrow, forget the preceding and go with Plan B.

Keep watching this space for further updates.

The Man is not on your side. He works alone. Notice his flawless skin? No scars? Think he’s sane? Could be He’s playing a different game. Maybe, though, He’s been playing this one so long, the rules do not apply. Plan B involves living long enough to make your own rules.

Plan C is a combo situation and requires quick stepping back and forth between the previous two. It is inadvisable due to the wear and tear it affords. There is some scarring. There is no Plan D. Best to proceed until a roadblock presents the need to decide; do so rapidly and take another shot. Don’t vacillate. There is never much to be gained.

Veterans achieve a measure of immortality but never beyond the measure of the species.

Best to you each morning. Sun comes up. Get dressed. Otherwise, plan your funeral. Don’t bother with obituaries. Most people don’t read them. And those that do, well, isn’t it obvious why they do?

Try spot remover and remember laughter causes lines but it’s the least painful course. Listen for the whistle. Have your ticket ready and hop on.

Nobody here but us chickens.

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