December 2008

thanks to justin lowmaster, this has to be one of the longest prompts ever:

what would you do if you found yourself face to face with a dragon, armed only with a boysout manual and a piñata costume?

(drat. this file is too big too)

I’m an Eagle Scout, but nothing in my scout handbook prepared me for this…

My trusty book covers such things as killing large animals with a Bowie knife…. Earned the badge in Webelos.

Lookey’re: Blueprints for a survival raft out of ocotillo staves and spider webs… I built variation C at Jamboree.

Page 35. Here’s instructions for cooking Chili Mac in a turtle shell.

But there’s nary a word about this…

Steeling my courage, I turn a deliberate 360, look the Dragon directly in the eye, and ask,

“Lai Choi San, does this piñata costume make my ass look fat?”

i like the color yellow. not just any yellow though. happy yellows. sunflower yellows. not your pale sickly we dont know what color to paint the bathroom yellow.

this peice of public art was commisionned by the city of guadalajara for the millenium. i think i understood the tour guide to say it was about bridging cultures.

thanks to guy david for the invitation to write an alternate ending to his chirapa epic.

and to caleb bullen for the spot on reading

here is the link to guy david and the whole chirapa story:

http://www.podcastpickle.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=52094

and caleb bullen’s site:

http//blacktiemartiniclub.com

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(drat. file is to big to post here.)

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Yesterday, Bob laughed in the wine shop –
“That one,” the clerk pointed to a Chardonnay/Semillon blend, “goes great with fish.”

“And Chirapa,” giggled Bob.
“How delicious,” he thought, ” Barbeque Chaketo, and a pyre of Chirapa in the tunnels… Chirapa had stolen his beloved Harriet; revenge would be his.

…

Now, Bob quaffed wine contentedly, listening to the sizzle of roasting flesh…

Was the fire buzzing?

Bob didn’t know, that, like the longleaf pine, Chirapa need fire to begin their alternate form of life.

Chirapa song filled his ears: thousands of alien sporazoa flew from the flames, craving blood…

this story is based on the life of billy tipton, who lived as a man for over 40 years, had serious relationships with 5 women, and whose biological identity was not revealed until his death in 1989.

wc-133-omission_anima (<play me)
Are you the next of kin?

Yea… William Tipton. I called when Dad collapsed.

You  his son?

Adopted.  Kitty should be here… Bill’s gone, huh?

Yes son, gone.

Bill was famous in the day… played piano in jazz clubs all over … You should see the pictures… Always dressed sharp, always with pretty girls…
Later, he and mom hooked up, settled down…
Jeez I loved him… treated  me and my brothers like blood.

We tried everything we could, son; I feel for your loss; Look, there’s something you should know… I don’t think your father was the person you think…

oooo i liked recording this one. this is want i see the future as being. lowlifes will have us by the short ones. this low life happens to be russian.

nearfuturetest1
(^ jetzt! macht schnell!)

Vitaly had some, and I needed it, bad.

It had been days – the brainfog was settling in… News on the vidscreen was sounding
plausible.

Come on Vitaly, I whine.  Scanning the room, I spy the scarred PIOSK bottles. I know
you fired up the Elektron yesterday. Liquid’s better, but chemical will do.

Vat have you trade?

A foil of pop tarts and six Twinkies….

Prakhaldna – 10 minutes.

How about liquid?

Chevo? ‘K – 5 minutes.

Inhaling, the purity of the O2 hits my brain better than anything I remember.

I wheeze again, growing sharper and more cynical with each passing moment.

if you don’t know whom langston hughes is, go visit wikipedia. im not EVEN going to give you the link.

az_simple (<play me)

Simple, still sitting here at the Wishing Well? Some things never change…

You’s Wrong!!
Lemme tell you about change… I done changed jobs, changed diapers and changed the locks on my door.
Joyce, she going thru the change, and that be changing our relationship.
I been short changed all my life, leaving me feeling mighty changeable.
I have changed my party affiliation for a man who is ready for Change.

Now, I’s changing the subject. You gotten me all riled up, buy me a whisky – beer won’t do.

Simple, I said, after all these years, you haven’t changed a bit.

here’s another from the vault…

while poetry is not the typical one hundred word challenge fare, i like to write it on occasion

az_ones2 (<play me)

One, and one, and one more.

Not much more, or much less

Is it three?

The relationship: a man and a woman, and an ex?

Candles burning on a cake, or the number of legs on your old dog.

Or is it one hundred eleven?

Episodes in a podcast,

Iron bars penning up the guilty.

Or maybe hashes on the calendar, counting days to vacation….

It certainly means something to your computer, but that’s only half the message.

As I see it,

There is only one, standing alone…

Reflected between funhouse mirrors, ad infinitum.

ok, time to raid the archives again

stevenpaul_az

(^play me)