by Tomorrow's Man
October 2001
Monday 1 October, 2001
What? What?? God, no, tell me it isn't true!!
It is. I am the one who baked the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
Let this be a warning, of the start of Doughween...!!!
Tuesday 2 October, 2001
"Elsa, why don't you come down from that tree now? They're gone I swear...no, no, no, this isn't blood...come on now, be a good girl. Put down that cross and climb down here. Now. Do not make me come up there after you..."
Wednesday 3 October, 2001
Yes, I am, I am:
Thirteen ring fingers.
A cockroach stable.
Cottonmouth culottes.
A picture of God on the pot.
Four small black squares, untouched.
Your warm rainwater bath.
Amgelina Jolie's G-string.
Three clicks shy of success.
Water.
The neophyte in the “closet.”
Tree sloth vertigo.
The mayonnaise on a love sandwich.
My spine on out.
This decision.
So many ring fingers,
I am; I am.
Thursday 4 October, 2001
George the Pumpkin says hello, and that he thinks you would look good in duct tape and honey.
Friday 5 October, 2001
Sam Adams Boston Lager's only fault is that it is not 300 of the 326 million cubic miles of fluid that exists in the world.
(Got to leave some room for gin.)
Saturday 6 October, 2001
Once I got round and began to roll, I placed myself between the spider and the rock, once I came to a lilting stop, I stroked the moss and grew the fold, once I felt in my belly the tree, I felt the fall of leaves, and once I tasted the touch of snow, I finally let myself sleep.
Sunday 7 October, 2001
Uh oh...
Monday 8 October, 2001
The dream last night was of my friend Brett and I running through the dark, hunters just behind us after every corner we turned, men in submaries, sea serpents, gangs, maniacs with broken bottles, we ran and ran, and finally made it to my home.
We broke in and locked the door behind us, only to hear the seething, angry mass moaning outside the walls as they began pushing the house down. We ran into the basement, where a red light was seeping from a back room. Brett left the room to meet his fate and I entered the red light.
Sitting in the back room was a still form in a chair -- me, my body, in porcelain. My eyes were open and real, my eyes were weeping. I looked at the back of my bald head and noticed a trickle of blood coming from a cut along the bottom of my skull. I reached into the cut and pulled out a data card, like a SmartMedia card (the kind used in digital cameras). It was covered in clotted blood.
I put the card in my mouth and sucked off the congealed blood, then slipped it back into the cut in the back of my porcelain head. As I pushed my finger into the hole and felt the card click into place, the mannequin gasped, and I awoke.
Tuesday 9 October, 2001
There is nothing,
nothing
as beautiful as when you've had a woman,
really fucked her
well and long
completely and breathlessly,
and then you lay beside her
watching her drift away
into sleep and dream,
from places
where you have have made her
happy.
[Taken by the joy of a moment.]
Wednesday 10 October, 2001
Four nights in a row with dreams that have ford Pintos in them.
(I'm left feeling ironic and speechless.)
Thursday 11 October, 2001
I'm afraid of war.
I'm also afraid of large dogs. And tidal waves. And flying. And bees, well, hornets, moreso. And scary people waving knives around. And AIDS. And being mugged. And being pushed in front of an oncoming train. And getting a girl pregnant. And losing my job. And cancer. And snakes. And vomiting uncontrollably. And falling down lots of stairs. And anthrax. And balconies, well, all heights, really. And sharks.
And I'm afraid of war.
So, what's different?
Friday 12 October, 2001
I have to say, I'm not sure what scared me more; the Spectre of Death moving like an immense shadow, indefatigably, across the ocean and toward the lives of everyone across my great country; or, the live duck I pulled out of my ass about a half-hour ago. You just don't understand...that Spectre thing is bad...but this duck is pretty darned disturbing.
Saturday 13 October, 2001
5:22 A.M.
Why does cheese smell that way? Especially French cheese.
Why do feet smell this way in socks in shoes in heat?
Why does cordite burn in the nose?
Why does flatus have so many personalities?
I felt like testing you today.
Why does meat smell on Thursday, but by Sunday it has become a taste?
Why do we like cotton so close?
Why will we smell worse when we're older?
Why do women smell like everything,
from the ocean
to sometimes even flowers
or the drying shore?
Why does the dawn smell this way?
Is it the ocean?
Is it a woman?
Sunday 14 October, 2001
Grab for the stars, honey,
Let me kiss those fuzzy armpits,
mmmmmm
Grab for the honey, my star,
I've got somewhere lower to kiss.
Monday 15 October, 2001
Litter. Garbage.
(A) litter. breed.
Humans take drugs to have many many babies at a time; like animals.
Puppies. Kittens. Humans. Litters.
Animals who birth many young at a time have litters. Like humans who take drugs
to make babies
take drugs
make trash
to take drugs.
White litter.
Tuesday 16 October, 2001
So many splinters, so little skin...
Wednesday 17 October, 2001
I'm having a great day - I woke up this morning, did my pre-shower tally, and realized that the number of things that are going to try to kill me today is down by 3! Yaaaay!
Thursday 18 October, 2001
Fresh in line, hot shower, hands wander, rise, rise, my love finder, stick me to the wall again.
Friday 19 October, 2001
"Why do you do that to me?!?" The squirrel said to the bean.
"Well, you ate me; what did you expect?" The bean exhorted, as beans do.
The squirrel, feeling the impetus of the bean's reply, hopped forth a step. "But you make me feel...shaky!" Squirrel widended his eyes and quivered his wee whiskers as he felt bean's retort forthcoming.
"Well, look at the bright side--" said bean.
Suddenly, Squirrel felt a great pressure within him and a need to raise his tail quickly!
"--at least I don't make you nuts!"
Saturday 20 October, 2001
Can I kiss you gently? Just a small kiss, just because we could...a small kiss, at the corners of our mouths, press for a few seconds, then separate, smiling, smiles touching...
Can we kiss...?
Sunday 21 October, 2001
well fuck this man i mean who the hell is hunting me today the next guy in line pigfucker better push me onto the tracks or i'll eat you alive seriously skin you on my back porch and throw your eroded liver to the gulls i never fucking kid about something so serious just take a step over here and watch me salivate you worthless cur...
Monday 22 October, 2001
Cloudy. Come. Cloudy, break of sun. Come, small rub again. Sunshine, some clouds. Some come, second time. Sunlight, sunbright. Happy sore.
Tuesday 23 October, 2001
The horizon is licorice, the strawberry kind, and after 32 years of hunting it, I've finaly begun to suck on it's sweet, twizzled end.
Wednesday 24 October, 2001
Blood on my face, my hands, my book, my lunch, the computer keys and screen, my boss's invoice, my desk, my coffee mug, my pants...I really have to try to stop biting my fingers when I'm tense.
Thursday 25 October, 2001
pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain
don't know what i did to my leg
pain from arch to groin
sleep sleep just want to sleep
god
pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain
Friday 26 October, 2001
I'm not sure where, when, how, or why, but I have most definitely lost the ability to smell with my right nostril.
Saturday 27 October, 2001
The creature awoke, flashing the green of his eyes. He walked to the stream, keeping low, and drank of the cold water, deeply. The creature fed, but the lurid activity of that feeding will not be illustrated here...all who know of the creature know that to describe any action of its expanded, wet mandibles will invite the creature to dilate them in a more personal manner....
Sunday 28 October, 2001
So last night, while I was a girl, and I was dancing, and my skirt was flying and my heels were moving and my wig was a black dream of wings upon my shoudlers, I touched myself, my small falsies, I touch them over and over and over again and I wondered how you ladies ever keep yours hands away.
Monday 29 October, 2001
It amazes me that, when you pee, and you're sitting and/or standing there, and you let the stream go for a good long time but then you get to the end of your flow and you got that little bit left that you can feel lingering in your urethra, and you push it out, yeah, it amazes me that no one considers the muscular intensity involved in ambushing your bladder and squeezing it as hard as you can between two walls of hyper-tense muscle just to squeeze out a few extra salty drops.
Tuesday 30 October, 2001
So I'm sick as a dog and I get home from work and in the mail is a box. The box is addressed to my wife, with my last name - which still weirds me out. I pick up the box and immediately feel the shift of broken glass.
We get inside and open the box. She peels open the card as I carefully peer into the box of shredded tissue paper and shattered gray glass; it's crystal.
The card is from an old friend of her family's, an old friend who is dying, and whose husband is dying, and who has sent off their most precious items to those they love. We got an antique crystal vase, older than our ages combined, now destroyed.
The night got better when I fell asleep with nothing killing me further.
Wednesday 31 October, 2001 Samhain
Samhain, sweet life, breadstick, butter knife, ding dong, yer dead, strawberry forehead, run along, hide in dark, madmen in the trailer park, watch the swing, watch the saw, the crow sings, the cat claws, rustle bustle, here it comes, teeth and eyes and bloody sleeve, look out look out there it goes, caught in fist the head of Steve, Biggle-Bum, just a name, play with sticks his playful game, pin the tail on your friend, hammer it in their rearest end, night fall, prance, cavort and run, twitching in your burning fort, swallow thirty flaming bees, feel their heat as you pee, flick flick, said the witch, eye bugged out and broom stick, gingerbread was her yum, hors d'ouvres was your tongue, Jack and Jane and pricker bush, cloud on moon and wolf's long wail, Jack pushed and Jane bled, and little Ben was born with a pointed tail, father father, say your name, we all need to hear it so, Satan, Jesus, Buddha, Bob, where did our fathers go, back to the mines to play, back to the coal to burn, grow your hair, deep your voice, now it is your turn, your turn, focus, free, crystal ball, future spider's sticky webs, stretched across your ham and cheese, take a bite, begin to twitch, laced, crazy, psycho, sane, the year that passed begins again, razors line this precipice, wind tatters thinning veil, call your ghosts, sing their names, greet them with a toothy grin, open wide, bow your head, call the moon, enjoy Samhain.