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Amazing [Mar. 18th, 2011|12:48 am]
Soggy Biscuits
I've always wanted to be amazing but Ive never been willing to put out the effort.

Sustained effort has generally been beyond me.
Getting off speed and graduating from clown school.
These are the only two tasks of any real weight I have accomplished.
What makes a person amazing then?

Kristen Bell is amazing.
Beautiful, smart, talented, skilled.

I'd like to be someone like that, if only for the sake of attracting similar into my life.

I need to be smart, talented, sexy.
Sexy will come of it's own accord with the other attributes.
Smart I've got a bit of, but really just enough to coast by in most things doing the minimum to have general low level successes.

I have no education, that's something I could remedy.

I think a successful career, making my self particularly skilled, be one of the best at something other than taking pictures of naked clowns.

SO that's what I need to be.
Become lithe, skilled and focused.

I want to be amazing. This will take more than my general minimal effort to achieve.
But I'm not crazy any more, or not as crazy, and can spend less energy fighting depression and obsession, and try to focus on making something good that lasts, and making myself into someone I would want to be with.

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(no subject) [Mar. 10th, 2011|09:22 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
I was driving to abaeline when I saw it in the back of a pick up truck.
It shone so bright I had to pull down the visor to keep my eye on the rode.
But It held my eye and kept it and wouldn't let go and in little to no time at all I found my self in the parking lot of a pik'n'pak idling next to the red chevy pick up waiting for that young lady to go in to the checker.

She was blonde and tiny and wouldn't caused me no trouble, but I hadn't never done nothing like this before so I waited until she was right gone, and popped out of my rover, sidled up to her little pickemup and lifted it out of the back.

It cried, soft like, like something between a baby and a kitten with a little bit of cock thrown in, an i tucked it under my shirt as I walked back to the cab of my truck.

I could feel it's beak hot against the skin of my chest, through my shirt, and it's feet flexed to the sound of the song on the radio, scratching at my waistline, digging into the fabric of my jeans.

Damn thing was sick, anyone could see that. It was barely hot at all.
Hell, I could touch it.

I took it out colbert road towards the old lumber mill, and pulled off into the culvert near the jackson place.

No one around for miles. No hunters, no collectors, no tv people or scientists.
That girl woulda sold the damned thing and then what?
No bird, no season, all the crops die.
I mean shit, yeah theres likely a whole slew of them up in the mountains, but still it just aint right to cage it up like that.

Not for money.

I laid it out on a stump and it looked up at me.
It was crying, making that soft noise, it's tears burnin off the side of it's beak.
I'd never seen a bird cry before.

It freaked me out.
I grabbed a can of gas from the car and held the thing down as I soaked it with the can.
Poor thing couldn't understand, didnt like the smell, probably stung it's little eyes too.

I took the matchbook i keep in my pocket for emergenices, from the Jack Shack on Petaluma, struck one and lit the damned thing on fire.

It went up like an old book, it's feathers peeling back and lifting off it';s charred body, carried by the heat into the wind.
I had doubt then frined, I'll admit it.
For a moment I was unsure, and I lost it.
I grabbed my big gulp fromt he car and tried to put the damn thing out.
Anything to make it stop crying.

But I was too late, thankfully too late.
It's body collapsed into cider and ash, picked up in the afternoon wind, made a mess of the truck and my hair. But it was done, and when the wind blew it all away, that little blue egg was all that was left behind.

And I'll hold on to it fellah, until it gets too hot to hold, and then I'll bury in some leaves our in the woods where no one will find it, and wait for it to hatch.
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What have I done? [Mar. 5th, 2011|07:24 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
In my life, so far what have I done?
What that is amazing, or inspiring, or that would fill me with awe.
I can't think of anything, and the fact that I am bothering with the thought must be some middle life crisis, proving my life to this point has had worth.
But really, what have I done.
I have loved 3 women wholey and failed awesomely in each case.
I went to clown school, that was difficult, to leave my home and go to a new city to follow a fool hardy impulse, with much lost hair and cortisol in the mix, but that's no more than many many people do, at a much earlier age.
It can be argued that I have in some way saved two people from overdosing. One of whom means something.
And speed.
That was the hardest thing I have ever done.
I quit speed, on my own cold turkey.
Took a long time to heal, and don't know if my brain will ever again be what it was.
But it was the hardest thing I have done.
Still, I don't think it qualifies as amazing.

I still then, have amazing things I need to do.
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(no subject) [Feb. 28th, 2011|05:24 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
I've decided to become a reviewer of men's lifestyle products.Movies, games, stinky stuff ect.
This means I need to create a blog just for reviews (maybe) and start reviewing my favorite and least favorite things.
I think that's a plan.
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(no subject) [Feb. 27th, 2011|10:46 am]
Soggy Biscuits
The water in this lake has the same salt content as human tears.
It is a wide lake, deep and still and the people of the village won't come near it.
It tastes like a girl I know who used to cry over everything, and I would kiss her snotty face and make it temporarily better.
It reminds me of her and I can taste the tears through my coffee.
The people in the village stay away and I am afforded my privacy. It is a welcome tradeoff for a breakfast that tastes like sadness and recrimination. On it's single shore, I can do my unhappy work.
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outline for radio play [Feb. 26th, 2011|04:15 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Starts with a will reading,
Young Terry is orphan again by his grandfather. His father an inventor was killed during the great war, and his mother an ancient mayan princess from the city under the north pole, who died shortly after his birth. At the reading of the will, young tery finds out that the majority of the granfathers wealth is either donated to a museum or put in a trust for the boy.
Terry is sent to live with his aunt, who he has never met. She shows up at the will reading as a mysterious and somewhat sinister figure. The Aunt is to become his custodian. She is a WWI vet/spy turned commercial treasure and bounty hunter and people hire her and her tiny team to hunt for treasure of all types, which leads her into contact with spies, Nazi's, super scientists, cryptozoological monsters and elder gods.

She wants a book or a relic from the grandfathers collection, but can’t access the resources of the grandfather without the boys direct intervention.

There are secrets buried in the grandfather research and books, and the aunt needs the boy to access the materials.

The grandfather died of mysterious circumstances and was heavily involved with an adventurers society who hunted the same goal he did, the central mcguffin, a great treasure, a tremendous power, guarded by a lovecraftian horror. Within the adventurers society there were various factions, some of which opposed his research for one reason or another.

The aunt with the boys help discover clues to find the great treasure.

They are pursued by members of the secret society who want the treasure power for themselves, and others who wish the mcguffin to never be discovered.

Their chase leads them around the world, and eventually to a series of turquoise lined tunnels beneath the andes mountains, where they must face a lumbering lovecraftian horror, to get the treasure, in the form of an ancient meteorite of alien technology and prevent the baddies from using it to control the world.

There will also be yeti like under the north pole and giant jelly fish and of course Penny Dreadful the teenage pirate queen and her band of grizzled lesbian cutthroats, some pre WWII nazi’s, a super scientist and spy types.
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(no subject) [Feb. 26th, 2011|03:20 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Haven't done the best job at writing every day.
Got laid off yesterday tough, So i will presumably have more time to kill.
I want to work on a radio play next.
Pulp adventure stuff, again.

starting on an outline for that today.
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(no subject) [Feb. 7th, 2011|05:22 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
He had a flower in his hair.
It grew out of the side of his head.
It had started as an itch that grew and grew until it was unbearable.
HE scratched himself raw and swollen, and in his sleep a bud broke through his skin.
The itching never went away, but over time he learned to ignore it.
He had to change jobs, began working at a Montessori preschool, because no one found it that odd that he wore a flower in his hair.
But the stem grew out, and he had no insurance.
He tried to cut it, but he felt it's flesh like his own, and it hurt to much to remove it.
The stem grew until the flower peaked out from his head a foot above him, stiff in the wind.
It would turn to find the sun. He took to walking for hours in the park, to alleviate the ache of it's hunger.
He met a girl in the end with flowers growing from her body, and they grew rather fond of each other, but could never consummate their relationship, due to the fear of crushing her flora, and the pain it would bring her.
One day he gave up, laid down in the freshly turned dirt, and left himself to the weather. The doctors had told him it was too late.
If he had come sooner before the roots had buried in his brainpan, they may have been able to remove it via a costly experimental surgery.
But he had missed his opportunity, and instead accepted his fate, tucked himself into the humus of the forest floor, and waited to decompose.
The flower lived on long after him, and was eaten one day by a bear.
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For Kit [Jan. 31st, 2011|05:30 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
When she was 4 years old, Lisa ran away to join the circus.
They sent her back home again, because she was much too small.
But as she awaited retrieval by her family, staid and English, she watched the elephants mate and the cotton candy made, she drank lemonade for the very first time.
She had ran away to join the circus drawn in at her Lima bean age by the musics and colors, from across the street where her parents sold cars, but she fell in love, at the pie car with the sequins, the terrible smells and all of the sugar.

She ran away again when she was 7 and her grandmother hit her with a hairbrush.
She could not find a circus and instead spent the night in a museum. Everyone was very worried.

From the age of 9 through 125 she ran away every summer, when the circus would come through town.
She secretly taught herself to juggle and bend, and train rabbits to do card tricks, but was always sent home again, for being too small, before the circus moved on to it's next town.

She lost her virginity at 14 to a pair meth-addict carnies, and got in her first fist fight at 12, (she won) with a rube who insisted the bearded lady was a fake.
At 16, at the age of her maturity, she won another talent show at school, and her parents died in a pinto explosion.
She tried to run away to join the circus then, but her lawyers insisted she go to college.

At college she specialized in theatre arts, business management and vetrinary science, and when she graduated she applied to all the small family circuses she could find.
But they were gone now. All the victims of their own pinto explosions, or tax filing deadlines or lack of butts in seats, can't cover the nut or make it up on the dink, just no money in it anymore.

And all that was left was the large circus corporations.
it wasn't the same, but it would do she though.
And she joined the circus company, and pushed papers on a desk, and sold ads in magazines and months later quit.

She moved back to her parents car lot, and opened a small theatre, which booked ancient vaudeville performers.
But built a small apartment building for them to live in, she had gathered so many tap dancers, magicians and ventriloquists, she had to have a place to keep them all.
She was well loved by her community, a successful veterinarian and entrepreneur, and word of her kindness and beautiful theatre spread around the world.

At first it was a Chinese acrobat, defecting from her handlers at the airport and hiding in Lisa's theatre/retirement home.
Then followed a lion tamer and his lions, who could find no where else to keep his senile ailing cats, and then slowly act by act, escaping from the drudgery and corporate oppression of the big circuses, magicians and trapeze artists, eldery contortionists and pregnant clowns, derelict ringmasters and desperate musicians on the lam, came one by one or in groups and eventually tiny parades to live in Lisa's now expansive retirement village, performing daily and twice on Sunday at the theatre she built on the lot where her parents died.

Whiel Lisa never managed to run away and join the circus she did eventually convince the circus to run away and join her.
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(no subject) [Jan. 30th, 2011|08:53 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Ok secondary characters for my new pulp adventure novel will possibly include most of the characters from my terrible first novel, Penny Dreadful and the Mayan Snow Beast:

Penny Farthing / Penny Dreadful - Orphan turned Teenage Pirate Queen and her ship of Lesbian Pirates
and maybe Her father - the Sleeper Agent/Sonambulist, a Shadow like figure, Secret agent Bourne/Bond like as well
The Yeti's from PD&tMSB
Probably the Giant Jelly Fish from PD&tMSB
Pre-WWII Nazis
Professor Hammer the charming explorer/evil Nazi collaborator
Doctor Wu, inventor of the Apathy Ray
And possibly the alien predecessor elder gods who created the Viking and Mayan races.
I'd like to get something Lovecraftian in there, a lumbering slumbering sogoth like figure, deep in the ornate turquoise lined tunnels of the city beneath the Andes.

The main character will be a WWI vet/spy turned explorer/treasure hunter. Traditionally he should also be a pilot, though I am unsure about that. It would allow him to move about with ease.
He can have a fat slob partner, and a whole small p.i. treasure hunting business.
People hire him and his tiny team to hunt for treasure of all types, which leads him into contact with spies, Nazi's, super scientists, cryptozoological monsters and elder gods.

I know I want a lot of it to take place in the rain forest, and maybe in the south pole.
I could pull back in the whole city of yeti's from the first novel and re-purpose them as living in Antarctica.

According to Wikipedia meteorites are a big deal in the antarctic, much better preserved than elsewhere when they land. There might be a tie in there. I spent too long in the arctic last time, I'm not really sure I want to go there again.

There's a clear McGuffin in all this, being whatever treasure they are hired to find.
Though I might want to avoid the Nazi thing since it is so present in Indiana Jones and in all of the Hellboy stuff. I don't want that much overlap. I still think I should use Professor Hammer and Doctor Wu though.

So my hero is hired to hunt down a treaure, turns out to be a person, and finding this person leads them on a chase after a greater treasure, while being pursued by the forces that kindnapped the first person orignally. The treasure they seek and eventually find is being guarded by an elder god in the city deep beneath the Andes mountains.

So that's a pencil sketch.
Now to fill in the details and start writing the novel.
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Yummy! [Jan. 30th, 2011|07:55 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Reread the Tatooed Potato and Other Clues, which I have not read in nearly 30 years. It holds up.
Lovely. No Westing Game mind you, but still quite lovely.
Who has a kid in SF I can loan this too. Such a wonderful book. It is the reason I first wanted to be come an artist.
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(no subject) [Jan. 30th, 2011|06:24 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Ok, have to get some writing in today, though no idea on what subject.
Think I am going to start working on a novel again. Pulp adventure, but before I do I want to scavenge the tone from some other books. Specifically Bill the Galactic Hero by Harry Harrison, and I'd like to find a good pulp adventure novel, but I have had no luck so far.
Hence my need to write one.
I guess I'll look for a fucking Indiana Jones novel or something, as terrible as it is likely to be. Didn't Farmer write a doc savage novel?
Not really the tone I'm looking for, but better writing I am sure.
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(no subject) [Jan. 29th, 2011|03:20 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Ok, so not doing the best at writing every day, but a few pieces down at least.
I'll to get some more in today.

Went and spent my $40.00 gift certificate at the booksmith this afternoon, before spending $60.00 bucks I can't afford at the game store.
At book smith, for free I got,
3 recent reprints of Ellen Raskin young adult/children's mystery novels.
Figs and Phantoms, which I have never read, The tattoo'd potato and The mysterious disappearance of Leon, I mean Noel.
I also picked up something by John Harrison called Light which is supposed to be quite good, and some frothy Terry Pratchet crap, which I wont like much but will read anyway, because it is super light.

At the game store, for real money, I got 2 card games and a dice game. Gloom, Fluxx and Zombie Dice.

So hopefully fun with those shortly.
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(no subject) [Jan. 26th, 2011|12:09 am]
Soggy Biscuits
I broke the car traveling over the 40 into Nevada.
It snapped somewhere inside like I'd stepped on a soda can.
Snapped and rolled, shot out from under me, spit me right out the window.
I cracked my collar bone and had to walk the last 12 miles, sticking to the bushes. But I made it damnit.

Made it to your birthday party.
I got you something.
The box is a little banged up, girl, but it's ok. I don't think anything broke.
I slid down a ravine coming into Chocktaw, and I might have landed on it a little bit.
It got wet, in the flash flood and I had to make camp in the woods till the storm passed.
Didn't have no umbrella or bags to put it in.

Yeah, it's a little burnt but it's fine. It caught fire a bit when i was drying it out, see a bear mistakenly made his way into my camp and thought he would lay with me like I was his wife.
We had a bit of a tussle and to be completely fair, he got the better end of me in the fight, and in the meantime, amongst all the fuss I didn't see your box had fallen into the fire.
But when the big ol bastard had gone on his merry way, I fished it back out of the fire, hiked down to the interstate and hitched my way here with some awfully nice lady bikers.

Which of course is why I smell the way I do.

But enough about that, you go on and open your present girl.

Ahh see there, it's a dog, a little Labrador puppy just like you asked for.

No he's fine. Tough as nails, tough as your pa.
I love you to little girl, now head on out, your ma and I need to have a talk.
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Urgg. [Jan. 22nd, 2011|06:45 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Looks like I forgot to write for almost an entire week.
Ok , here goes.

Fat Andy

Master Andrew was a fat man. He'd been fat most of his life. He'd been little Andy as a child, but only briefly before his uncle named his fat Andy. The appalling appellation stuck. Even in his dowager years, and yes he was a dowager, for as a young boy he had been married off to the Earl of Knightsbridge, and was legally for all intents and purposes from then on a woman, but even in his dowager year, antiquated, set upon by consumption and syphilis, rail thin and transparent like waxed paper, trapped on the third floor of the manor our of fear of falling down the great stairs, even then weighing less than 10 stone, his weight on entering grammar school, he was still to everyone who spoke of him Fat Andy.

Fat Andy, the Odd Widow on the hill. Fat Andy mistress of the manor house. Fat Andy the nursemaid and mother to 7 orphans, from the war. Fat Andy the coward, Fat Andy the courageous, and in the end, when they finally laid him to rest, after the servants had all fled the terrible storm of 1893, and the manor was buried in sleet, when the baying of the horses dying in the stables drove Fat Andy from his bed, his own cries ignored by the servants, long gone for home themselves, driven to despair by the thought of his prized horses dying in the cold, fat Andy, Frail Andy, Old widow boy Andy, made his way to the great staircase of the manor house and half way down them, before his ankle gave and he tumbled and fell, snapping like apple bark as he tumbled down the great stone steps, and lay himself near dead and dying serenaded by the cries of his stable house, and died together that night with all but one of his horses, even then, with the last of his horses pulling the wagon that held his tiny coffin, His Pall Bearers numbering 12 when only two were really needed, his children returned from adventure and exploit around the globe, his servants all in tears, even then, when they laid him to rest, It was Fat Andy, the dead man.

And it was Fat Andy, Son, Wife, Mother of 7, that was chilseled on the tomb stone where he was lain to rest.
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candy canes [Jan. 15th, 2011|12:02 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
I made my hat out of candy canes.
Te straight old fashioned kind, not the curvy christmas kind.
I made a fedora out of sugar and strawberry flavoring, (they were strawberry candy canes) and I wore it with my hair tucked in.

I made a bow tie out of fruit tape and a shirt out of circus peanuts. The buttons were made from candy buttons, which were purely ornamental, but I thought they were a nice touch.
I made a vest to wear over it all out of nerds rope and lick'em'aid sticks, which have always been my all time favorite.

My pants were made out of reces pieces and laffy taffy, my belt made of bubbleyum. That's not really candy. It tastes like candy tough and I think that suffices.

For shoes I wore kleenex boxes covered in peanut brittle and almond bark.

I wore no socks that day.

My underthings were normal of course. Old well worn and showing it. But no one would see them so It didn't really matter. I could fudge the rule slightly.

I put on a coat made of butterfinger bites and candy corn and proceeding out into the late afternoon sunshine.

My car was covered in wafflecones and licorice, and I drove towards the mall at a respectable pace.

The short parade would start by Macy's and leave us all in the center of parking lot behind the dairy queen/payless drugs on 75th.

I was terribly pleased with myself, and thought I had done a more than adequate job.
The finishing touches I pulled from my trunk when I parked to get my registration form.
It was an umbrella made of candy glass, festooned with rainbow sprinkles, it's handle filled with orange crush.

This year, I would be prepared.

I took my place in line, behind the giant chicken and in front of the sundae bar, and as the bell rang and we began our trek, the sky turned brown and it began to rain.

I alone was prepared.
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(no subject) [Jan. 15th, 2011|12:45 am]
Soggy Biscuits
It's almost too late now. All the others have gone off to their huts, paired up, singly, in groups. I'm alone here by the fire while the remnants of the witches cat burns, bigger than my house, in the fit pit in the center of our village underneath the brambleberry bush.

Todd made his move on Sarah tonight. She isn't the loveliest. He could have one of the loveliest, but he wants Sarah. I want Sarah, and it's not fair. he was born into everything. He was first born in his fathers hut, he was first choosen for rites of ascension, next likeliest to be the chief, when the old chief goes on his final scavenge. And he flaunts his damn clothes in front of everyone.

And I'm sitting here naked, and jealous of him. Of him. God in heaven, this is sick.
I just want Sarah back. She hasn't talked to me once since she saw me laying with Angela.
I told her I was sorry, I told her it wasn't my fault, that we'd eaten bad logan berries and the lust had come over us.

I told her I would never do it again, but she didn't care. It's not like we were ever really together. Not really, we had just gotten started.
And Tad found her, all pissed and seething, and he showed her his stupid paintings and talked to her all night and who knows what else.
I bet they did it. I bet the laid together, even though he is the chiefs son and never supposed to. Even though she was an orphan and no one else but me would have her.
God it's sick, thinking of them together.
And ther he is sitting next to her, touching her skin with his elbow, rubbing against her "accidentally"

And everyoen keeps asking me whats wrong. I don;t look right, my skin is too yellow, my hair not blue enough, they think i'm sick, that somethings wrong with me. And they are starting to avoid me.

No one understands. It's her. I love HER and that's all I want. God it's make me bleed inside to know that she's going to let him touch her. That he will break his vows with her.
He's probably done it with all the girls in the village.

I hate him.
I hate him so much.
If he wasn't the chiefs son I'd stab im in the neck when he was hunting and leave him there for the ants to take.

God why is this happeneing to me.
I don't want to be alone. I just want Sarah back. I'll do anything, i'll be a better person. I promise not to break my vow ever again, and never lay with another girl beside her. Just please give her back.
Or I swear to god, I'll kill them both.

Iv'e thought about it a lot. Too much. I need to let this go. But god in heaven, she's so beautiful, and she was mine damnit. Not yours, you have everything else. She is supposed to be mine.

My skin is turning blue in the fire. Thank god it's dark. Everyone would know what I am thinking. They could see it on my face and arms and would drive me out.
I'll start wearing clothes too. That will show him. No one will know what I think then.
God I'm drunk.
I really need to go to sleep, but I can see her with him, across the fire, and it hurts so much inside.

I need to clear my head. Not think about this. And I'm too drunk. I wonder if Linda has found a man yet. She'll break her vow with me. That's something. At least I won't have to think about Sarah. GOd I don't want to think about Sarah.

Shit, I spilled my wine. Oh crap, Sarah. Don't come over here, Don't!
Shit shit shit.

"No, I'm fine."
"Yeah, I'm sure,... gonna go see what Linda's doing."
"No sorry, I didn't mean it like that."
"Ok yeah, see you in the morning"

I'm such an idiot.
Look at his smug ass.
I'm gonna kill him I swear.

I need some more wine.
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(no subject) [Jan. 13th, 2011|11:22 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Eh, didn't like that last one too much, but at least it's something. That makes 5 days down.
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(no subject) [Jan. 13th, 2011|11:22 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
She was still wearing her pajamas. They had pictures of the little blue bears from the Orion zoo, which is where she bought them. Pajamas, pink with little blue bears, heavy lather work books, goggles and driving gloves, and laughed at herself until she realized she hadn't grabbed anything else to change into when she got to the base.
Her rocket sled skimmed over the pale blue grey sand of the Johnsonville dessert, carving deep grooves in the skin of the countryside.

Shit, no clothes, No wallet, no radio link. She'd run out the the bedroom and into the launch so quickly she had forgotten to bring any of her secondary necessities with her.
She had her research, her rebreather and the clothes on her back. And she had only hours to get to Central station if she was going to catch Kacin before he made his connection and was off to the far end of the solar system.

She hadn't seen kacin since the week after graduation. He'd gone on to work with the department of defense before leaving to work in the information networks. He was programming commercial channels now, but he would still no someone in whitehall who could get her information out.

God, she wanted so desperately to leave the ass forsaken planet and get back to somewhere green, where it rained. And she wanted a dog. Or maybe a rabbit. Something furry with a tongue and ears and filled with soft affection and physical warmth. All she had here on Jonsonville were the weird rock lizards and her lab rats.

She never liked rats. And this was taking too long. Kacin would be gone by the time she got to the station. Shit. She could cheat off of the mainline and try and shortcut through to the iron flats. They shouldn't be mining this late in the year. It really shouldn't be dangerous, and the worst that could happen would be she'd get a ticket the next time the mail came around in the spring.

Fuck it. She took the hard turn into the iron flats. Even if they were mining, she really didn't have a choice. Time wasn't on her side. And god, she was going to look like a freaking idiot when she found him, assuming she found him.
She would have to hope that there was still some spark there. he'd wanted to date her for the last couple of years at college. Jesus she looked like hell, her skin was burnt, her hair was nuts right now, and she was showing up in her bedclothes. She felt like an idiot.

But she didn't really have a choice.
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Planets [Jan. 12th, 2011|05:01 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
There was a man in the moon.
We couldn't see him from earth, as his face rarely looked down upon the planet, preferring instead to gaze into the bright emptiness of the rest of the solar system.

When we got to the moon we found he had long since died, and we built our first colony in the folds beneath his eyes and revived the industries of the earth mining into the core of him, taking his brain and his thoughts and feelings and turning them into fuel for our cars and television shows.

We mourned his passing in the way you mourn the loss of a great author who died before you were born. We lived quite happily on the corpse of his face. Until he woke up. And the war started, between the earth and the moon.

We nearly lost but someone had the idea to wake the earth and enlist her to our cause.
This was our greatest hubris, for when she woke she devoured the solar system and with her young son the moon set of for new vistas in distant galaxies leaving us all to choke and freeze on her skin.

We moved underground and adapted. We would have our planet back in the long run, one way or another.
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Robots [Jan. 11th, 2011|10:01 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
He's intended to buy some suits, but he bought a robot instead. It was real sweet. An electrolux, with a red chrome chest piece and one of those gyroscopic single wheels under a tapering articulated frame. It didn't have it's arms any more, but it's vacuum socket still worked, it he were to pick up an attachment.

He spent more than he should have, he really shouldn't even have been buying suits, but the robot was so lovely and was in near perfect working condition, aside from the arm thing.

They didn't have much use for them on this planet. Robots, not arms. They had lots of arms here. Everyone had at least three, plus there were arms on all the furniture and doors and velocipedes.
Jer assumed that was what happened to the robots arms, they had been harvested for some other project, and the body had been dumped off at a second hand store. Jer knew it was a gem the moment he saw it in the window display at the men's undergarment boutique. He spent more than he should have sure, but a lot less than it was worth, and when he got it back home to Albuquerque and fitted it up with new graspers it would be as good as new.

And then,... And then he'd teach it to fight!
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(no subject) [Jan. 10th, 2011|05:42 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
"he's shooting at me!"

"Why is he shooting at me?"

"I think he is actually shooting at us George."

"Christ you always have to make everything about you don't you Maggie?"

"Me, you are the one who seem to think the man shooting at us has a particular hate on for you personally. Jesus Christ, you are like a teenager sometimes. The whole world isn't out to get you personally you sad old fuck."

"Well this man certainly is you, you, you fat,.. ass!"

"God you are so pathetic sometimes, I really do love you" She said and kissed the side of his sweating grey head as he sat shivering behind the Lincoln Navigator, which, unlike in the movies, was doing absolutely nothing to stop any of the bullets that had been fired in his direction.

For the man was shooting at him, he was sure of it.
HE had run into him in the bathroom, and had quite casually checked out the mans Johnson. He'd caught George doing so and had seemed quite peeved.

"Christ in heaven what am I going to do?' Said George.

"What are you going to do, what ware we going to do you fat bastard" Said Maggie, laughing in her mind at their predicament, the bizarre rightness of it. She had always half daydreamed she'd die like this. Not by being shot, but by some random twist of fate that took George out with her. And He was right, the man was probably shooting at George, but she wasn't going to admit that and give the insufferable old fool more to gloat in his sour nihilistic way about.
The bullets stopped for a moment, which stretched into another.

"Do you think he's gone?"

"No, I think I can hear his watch"

"What?!? YOu can't hear his damn watch. We are in the middle of a damn casino, you can not hear his damn watch." said Maggie.

"Excuse me Sir, are you still there?" Said Maggie, "Can you tell us please why you are shooting at us?"

The man with the gun looked closely at the Old One, foul beast of homosexuality and violence with it's tentacled face and skin covered in nipples and lesions, that looked on second glance much like a Lincoln Navigator.

"You will not take these people!" The Gunman cried, " They are unto doves and you are the smegma of the world eater, but these people are mine you will not have them!"

"What the holy hell is he talking about" Said George.

"I don't know" said Maggie, "He's not shooting at me, now is he?"

"But you said ..."

"He seems to think you are some kind of Lovecraftian horror, which honest to god, I've dealt with your laundry for 14 years now, I can't really argue that he is far off base. Maybe you should try talking to him."

"Fuck that noise, We are going distract him and crawl over to the door." said George.

"And how do you suppose we are going to accomplish that?"

"Ehem." Said George,"Excuse me sir, but there appears to be some kind of monster behind you. Just thought you should know. He looks quite gay as well." George watched the man in the side mirror of the car, and as the gun man turned he grabbed Maggie's arm and tried to run.

The gun spun back and pointed the gun at George's head.

"Oh god please" said George "please don't kill us, we are people not monsters, please just let us go"

"Yes please let us go, we are very sorry for whatever it was my husband did to you" Said Maggie.

Two people had emerged from behind the beast. He recognized one of them from the restroom, the man who had wanted to sin with him. And with him stood a woman, older, mature, stout, but pure and virginal, never touched by the foul homosexuality inducing beast.
"You are already marked old man, and can not be saved, but the women, the woman has yet to be fouled and must be protected from the dregs"

George swallowed, difficult dry in his throat and found his voice. "Yes, Dammit, if that's the way it has to be, then yes, save her, and I will stay here. Let her go.

"Oh George, you idiot, no" Said Maggie clutching his hand.

I save you said the gunman and raised his gun. George closed his eyes and felt as though his heart would burst. The gun exploded next to his head, and Magiie fell from his hands.
George opened his eyes with a start, and stared blankly at the form of his darling wife, child bride of 15 years lying on the casino floor, bleeding from the small dark hole in her sweater.

"No!" he screamed, "Good god why?" He turned to the man and tackled him, George gripping the gunman's wrists in his hands, beat him bodily against the floor, and taking the fallen gun, smashing it repeatedly against the gunman's head. He pounded at the gunman's face and neck, hearing the bones crack beneath the butt of the gun, watching his face break and run, pour with blood, and then shaking fell from the man and cradled his dying wife in his arms.

"God Why?!"

"You will never take her" sputtered the Gunman, his facing running with blood, a tooth falling from his mouth as he turned his head to speak."Too late for you, but I saved her. You will never take her"

God, it was his own fault, it was George's own fault, somehow, that this man had done this?

"She's safe now" The gunman said.
George lay on the ground next to her body and wept, and waited for someone to come and make all of this not be true. He waited for it to never have happened, and in that time Maggie died in his arms.
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Lemons [Jan. 9th, 2011|07:23 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
I like lemons.
But not like Bob likes lemons.
We sometimes sit after work and talk about how much we like lemons.
I always felt like I was odd and alone in my love of their texture, their smell, their life giving properties.
Lemons are, for instance the most influential fruit in American politics.
You didn't know that!
I know you didn't know that, because no one knows that, but I know it. I figured it out, on my own. It took months of research. A lemon killed a damned president, well an ex-president. It was the favored cleaning product of Martha Washington, yes her name was Martha, and a wedge of lime, (yes a lime is actually a kind of lemon, don't get me started on that one) was instrumental in exposing the nefarious bullshit that went on with Bush and Reagan in the Iran Contra Hostage thing.

You didn't know that. But Bob knew it. hell I didn't even know about the Reagan fixation until Bob pointed me in the right direction. But he let me figure it out for myself, which is why I have so much respect for him.
For his memory, I guess.

I never found Bob attractive. It's not that I don't like boys, I do. And I have had some, but it never fulfilled me. But Bob, bob showed me something I hadn't been willing to look at on my own.
Bob showed me how to make the lemon an integral part of my love. My sexuality.
And my nights with bob were all spring scented, sticky, pleasantly stinging, smooth, slippery rough and pulpy, and yes there were complications, but oh god it was so good.

But, while I grew to love and respect lemon in a whole new way, I never liked lemons like Bob liked lemons. He began bleaching his pubic hair with them. This required coating the hair in their juice and laying out on the roof.
He would burn himself, he was always photosensitive, and he would masturbate there in the sunshine as his hair slowly turned from brown to red to blonde to white, laying on the roof of our apartment building for hours on end.
Then he started to bleach his skin, and I began to worry. I tried to stop him, but maybe my love for the lemons was stronger than my love for Bob.

It couldn't shake them.
I wanted him to give them up, for his health. His skin would react to the juice in the sun, and burn so badly. But he would only be soothed by more lemons rubbed on his raw and blistered skin, and god help me, it turned me on.

He convinced me to join him, there on the roof in our tiny plastic kiddie pool, naked and shining in the moist patina of lemon juice and pips and pulp, and we made love there under the sun, but my skin started to burn and i wanted to go inside.
He wouldn't join me and stayed out there, in the sun, the unnaturally bright and brilliantly yellow sun of the hottest day of august, and when I began to truly worry and went up to fetch him, the door was locked, and I could smell him, SMELL HIM cooking in the sun. And he smelled so good that I wretched and vomited on the concrete steps in front of the door.
When night fell and he still hadn't returned and wouldn't answer my calls through the door, I called the landlord.

We found him burnt so badly his skin had turned black.
And ambulance came and the paramedics wrapped him in gelatin and plastic before taking him away, tracking the footsteps through my vomit, the smell completely covered by the stench of citrus on the rooftop.

I visited him once in the hospital, and he became angry.
They had washed the juice from his body.
"I wasn't done" he said to me.

I never saw Bob again.
They found him 3 days later on the dead in a tanning bed in a salon near the hospital, marinated in bottled lime juice purchased from the corner grocery, 12 empty bottles amongst his close on the floor.
And what I remember most from his funeral was the smell coming up through the closed casket, and how it made me sad for the love I lost and would never likely find again.

I never loved lemons as much as bob did.
But they ar4e all I have left of him now, and it seems everyday like he was the brave one, and it's not such a terrible way to die.
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(no subject) [Jan. 9th, 2011|07:20 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
This is now the write something everyday journal.
We will see how that goes.
I will also post my last two Nanowrimo submissions, in chunks, as I go along.
But starting today it is the write something every day journal.

We will start with something fruity, I think.
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(no subject) [Feb. 4th, 2010|02:27 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Hmm well i had the due date for the blog assignment off by a week, so now I get to calm the fuck down a little bit.

On separate notes, I found a dialect coach for my call back audition for Cirque. Going to go see her for the first time at the end of the month. I need to dramatically improve the accent, this role is a narrator who talks throughout the entire show. So YAY! I get to be in Cirque as a Character/psuedo-clown and get to be the MC at the same time. That's kind of fucking ideal. The only thing better would be to do creation on a show and get to do some real clown material.

It looked for a moment like I wasn't on the audition list, but that has been resolved, and it sounds very much like I might be the only person doing a call back for this role. The only person in the world i mean, not just at this audition. course I could be completely absolutely wrong about that, but that's how it feels to me.

My impression, from understanding better how they work now, is that they are looking at me as possible replacement for a role who's contract will be ending at some point in the (hopefully near) future. I think what they will do, if they want me, is just put me on the back burner and have me wait until they need me. But that's alright, it's good to know you are on the list. If that happens I will have to make my way down to Vegas and see the show in person.
So generally Yay and yay++ !

All CC classes going decently, especially the walk classes, though elementary Chinese is horribly over crowded and I have already missed one class. On top of this, it requires a commitment of an extra 15 hours of campus time that wasn't listed in the description, so I have to figure out if I can make that work. Aside from that seems like it wont be too hard, elementary like they say, and I have Weng Xiao Hong and Master Lu Yi to practice on as I get better.
Yay for learning a second language, for FREE FUCKING EDUCATION, and for the chance to work with cirque for good pay in a big show!

Let's see how everything else turns out.
(also let's curse less, damn it!)
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BLOG 1 [Jan. 28th, 2010|12:44 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
First off, welcome to Professor Molinari and my fellow students from City College's  English 1A - College Reading and Composition course. So far I am loving the class, and was very glad to find an E1A I could fit into my schedule. So thanks Prof. Molinari for that.

As to who I am and as a word of introduction and forewarning: this Diary contains graphic, unwieldy, awkward and possibly deeply offensive content. I have made a middling attempt to lock the most provocative material down, but honestly can't be bothered to put allot of effort into it.
If you find things here you feel are off-putting or obscene, you are all heartily welcomed to keep it to yourself.

As to the assignment at hand
I was assigned the Mann report to the Massachusetts BOE, 1848, as the reading, and none of the blog options require that text.
I opted to read the Rodriguez text as a supplement for this assignment, partially due to the fact tat I didn't really go to high school, and what little I recall of it is heavily blurred by the intervening years since I left.

The Question was:
What are your personal motives for academic success? How do they compare with those of Richard Rodriguez?

Answer Follows.
Clickee the Linkee!
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fiction every day [Oct. 14th, 2009|02:09 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Trying to write fiction every day until I learn how.
It's a skill, i will develop it.

Here is today's attempt.
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(no subject) [Oct. 13th, 2009|12:02 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
So, it's become a habit now that, when I go through my yearly crazy pants phase, that coupled with the rage and the sadness that precedes and follows the rage, the fuck-its and the horrible anxiety, I also fall to thinking a lot about Letecia.

I realized the other day I couldn't remember her last name. I blanked for about a day.
I remember now, but it freaked me out.

The computer with the photos of her when we were together is dead, so those are lost to me.

It's now been a little over 4 years since she died, the year before I moved here. So thinking about her is closely linked to the awareness of crazy pants creeping up on me.

I miss her, and wish she hadn't been so fucked.
And maybe if I'd been a little less insane I could have done more to pull her out of it.
But it is where she wanted to be, she romanticized addiction, and had a shit load of pain to avoid.

Still, she's hanging around my head, all sweetness and light, with the worst bits glossed over by dint of her being gone.

And thinking about her makes me less sad and angry, which is the antithesis of our relationship at the end.
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New hair [Oct. 11th, 2009|04:52 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
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(no subject) [Oct. 8th, 2009|09:24 pm]
Soggy Biscuits

My Beard, It's my first one ever!

Me rehearsing my Trunk act, photo taken by Mr. John Gilkey!
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(no subject) [Sep. 16th, 2009|06:35 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Going to try to write everyday.
been working on a very stupid story about a man who clones himself to feed the world.
It's the only ethical answer in his eyes.

Also, the girl said yes.
I haven't asked out anyone on a date in over 5 years, possibly in my entire adult life.
I don't date, i usually just hook up with people I already know I am going to have sex with,
and if anything sex often comes before anything date like.

I was a little too subtle and she wasn't sure she had been asked on a date.
So yay me,
and oh my god I am such an enormous dork.

On plan, less crazy, saw a movie, sang and made music making plans with my friend audrey for tomorrow.
Now if only the roommate didn't shit in the bathtub, things would be quite poleasant.

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(no subject) [Aug. 13th, 2009|04:38 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
So, over the last 6 months or so I tried a number of different medications.
I went to get some anxiety treated,and got diagnosed with something else, and in the process of figuring out a treatment I tried allot of different meds.
And none of them worked correctly. This in turn means I was left with a number of bottles of nearly full psychoactive medications.

I have bottles of Lamictal, Lithium, Meclazine, and Abilify.
What the hell do I do with these?
Can I donate psych meds somewhere?
I also have a couple of Ativan, but I'm keeping those I think.

Any Suggestions?
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(no subject) [Aug. 6th, 2009|06:04 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
and now the crazy is pretty much gone.
Not sure what happened there....
blood sugar?
lack of sleep?
endorphine crash from my bike ride?
Really note sure what was up there.
Though i had a big disappointment that caught me in the guts, I will just need to find another way around it.
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(no subject) [Aug. 6th, 2009|04:18 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
So i just totally bought something I don't need with money I don't have on ebay, and felt momentarily better.
It may have screwed up my bank account slightly, but hopefully all will right itself before hand.
And it means I'll be able to lose myself in games (which helps) without having to buy a new computer.

Money should have gone into my savings though.
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(no subject) [Aug. 6th, 2009|03:20 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
I think maybe I need to look at moving back to Oregon. Sf is too expensive, and so many things are like swimming upstream here. I am very much isolated in many ways. I'm getting no clown work done, and while I get paid well to do a good job, there is still allot of resistance to my presence. I also feel like i' ve given allot to my alma mater (The conservatory) and they don't much care.

If anything they want to Take more and more control over the things I created due to their lack of them.

But I am also in the midst of the very beginning my crazy time, and can't make any life decisions until November.
Maybe December.

Still, I know i would have to pay out of state tuition and all, but it would be good to get a decent part time job based off my sf resume, and move back to Portland to go to school.
I miss having friends and sex and creating something of value.
Here I feel like I've stranded myself alone in the mudflats and am futiley spinning my wheels in case traction just magically occurs.

The coaches are here, but I can't get to them, so maybe there is where I should be.
I'm pretty fucking lost.

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(no subject) [Jul. 13th, 2009|09:47 pm]
Soggy Biscuits

Hah, I was in this movie!
uncredited I'm sure, and probably only in the background.
I played the carousel operator.
I spent all day keeping the director and cinematographer from literally shoving visitors to the park out of their way,
and then in the end had to operate the carousel for them as well.
Assuming it didn't get cut, I was in it.
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(no subject) [Jul. 10th, 2009|10:42 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Long somewhat difficult day at the good job, juggling logistics, and stormy attitudes and unlikely necessities, but I made it work.
In the short span between work and my salon thing, (community building effort to give people a chance to work on new material in front of peers)
I bust my ass to get out to the pharmacy and back, to find that they have gone ahead and started without me.
And everyone taking place was only there to audition for a show, elsewhere.
And there was no need for me to bust my ass.

This has come up a couple of times before, and I have asked it not happen.
It set me off and my attitude got progressively worse over the course of the evening.
And this led to a massive spiral of anger shit and filth.

But there is no sympathy in me for crazy.
Pull your head out and keep going.
Move on.
So i'm teetering on the edge of a unpleasant place and trying not to get angry to get over it, which would be the norm.

People are shit, and I accept that, I'm a shitty person to, I just am wallowing in it right now, and need to let it go.
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(no subject) [Jun. 29th, 2009|06:47 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Hey All
I'm putting this info out there for anyone interested. It was written/compiled by Jeff Raz of the Clown Conservatory
It really sincerely is worth your time and commitment if comedy and circus are something you care about.


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(no subject) [May. 19th, 2009|07:46 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Hello you,
haven't talked in awhile.
So to catch up.
Lost 60 pounds between July and November, then plateaued.
put about 10 back on after having shoulder decompression surgery.
I have now dropped back down to the 60 pound point.

I decided to make it through the coming economic depression, by taking giant student loans and getting a degree.
Unfortunately I am also a high school drop out.
So i got a GED.
Wanted to ace the whole thing, but I did it cold, and scored an average of 92%.

So now I need to hook up with a community college herein Sf, and see what it takes to pull down the 15g's + tuition costs I need to stop working at my massive stress demeaning exploitive job,
and only work my new secondary job while going to school full time.

Second Job?
Yep please.
I now work 7 days a week.
I have had 1 1/2 days off in the last like 2 months or so.
It has actually been kind of wonderful.

I have taken a second job on my days off, and a few hours here and there after work on the other days.
I love it and am doing things that are important to me and to my community, and learning some really important shit.

I am trying to get my health in order too.
I don't plan on staying at 7 days a week indefiniately, and may want to leave my job come fall, so I need to make sense of my insuarance options and get as much done as I can now.

IN this process of health making, we ended up plunging into my brain space issues, and as of today, I am taking Lithium.

So we will see how this goes.

Threw another circus festival,
That's it.

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Neil Innes - How Sweet to be an Idiot [Mar. 29th, 2009|10:25 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
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alice50 [Mar. 21st, 2009|11:09 pm]
Soggy Biscuits

Originally uploaded by Picklewater Circus

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(no subject) [Mar. 17th, 2009|06:37 am]
Soggy Biscuits
I might get my id by friday.
Assuming I do I can go and register for the tests I need for even thinking about college next monday.
Which would be lovely.
I even down loaded a study guide to make sure I know the types of info I'd be tested on.
This is a weird new adventure.
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(no subject) [Mar. 15th, 2009|11:48 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
So I'm a high school drop out.
Most people know that.

The only thing I have ever graduated was the conservatory (clown school).

So now i have decided to take out massive student loan and spend the next few years pursuing some degrees, while doing all the clown and circus stuff at the same time of course.
I will pursue an education in film/theatre production + some kind of certification in early childhood development.
This will benefit both of the career thoroughfares I am pursuing right now.

But I need to get a GED first,
and to do that I have to have valid state id.
And to do that I have to go to the dmv tomorrow and sit around for a few hours,..
2 fuckgin months to get your id in san francisco.
The is insanely bizarre, and deeply wrong.

But i have no other options for getting valid new id right now, so I will have to back burner everything until I get my damned id.
Gonna make an appointment to talk to someone in city college admissions though, while I am figuring this shit out, and waiting for the id to arrive.

I'm Tee'd off.
But I gots to do what I gots to do.


Also, coincidentally, I am watchign the prom episode of Buffy right now, and the scene where they give her the class protector award always chokes me up.
It is doing so right now.
Poo! I love this bit.

(Iv'e also never one an award or trophy ever, So I'd like to do that at some point to)
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www.jejuneinstotute.com [Mar. 9th, 2009|10:33 am]
Soggy Biscuits
I went with my friend "lucille" and she loved it.
The little discoveries, the secret parks, those were the parts she really enjoyed, and she insisted on returning to the one above the garage when we were done.

For me, most of the appeal lay in the aesthetics and ideas. I dug the clastrophobic but bizarrely active alleyways,
hunting a private eye in china town, and secret general sneaking about, quite nonchalant, in office buildings where we most clearly did not belong.

Up to starting I had genrally avoided reading any of the spoilers before hand, but coming in this late in the game made that very difficult, as so many people had already done the run, and issues had arisen.

I was pleased to see though that they had used 2 clear separate fixes for the recently ripped out phone booth. One on the ground and one in the envelope. There was no way to get too stuck there.

We went back to the Ca. Building with another Friend to have him inducted, while we went to see the Lady. While there we had a couple of nice chats with "yams moongood" and it sounds like they are still getting new players on a regular basis, which is encouraging. She says she will get one or two every day or two. We were the only ones today.

We were also very naughty, and quietly took turns dressing up in the lab coat and posing for photos in the induction room after our induction ended.

Our only hiccup, and my only complaint, is that the infrastructure seemed to be straining under the weight of it's bloating popularity.
It took us about 8 calls to get through to eddies voicemail, it kept being unavailable to each of our phones.
Philosophically, they narrative seems a bit confused right now, but that might be my not knowing all the things yall know. It seems to me that EPWA is really just a front/offshoot of the Jejune Institute, which exists as a valve through which their rowdier members can vent frustration and feel rebellious without actually turning squirrel and leaving the organization.

Which i would love to find out was the case.
It would be great to find out that Eva was a stooge created to keep people like Mr. Jamuel (SP?) and other Savant like burnouts jumping through hoops.
Just one more tol to control their prey.

To then be tasked with either helping the institute or bringing it down would be great game play.

I doubt that is how the game will go, but I am sure they will give something equally as fun. But it does make me wonder what the real world financial point of this is. Who is dropping the resources on this game and why?

It seems to be glorifying the kind of socially acceptable homogenized rebellion you use to sell skateboards and tennis shoes. It seems a very odd choice of black hats vs white hats, the cheezy pretentious beat paint huffing street poets, and the brilliant satire of the evil coporate cult.

It's like cats versus robots, just a very weird mix. But that can make for great adventure I am sure.

Can't wait to get my Transcript and CD (tomorrow most likely)

So,... one of the things i really liked about the first act/part of the game was playing it with a group of people.
We had more success as a team than we would have had individually, and it was a great experience to share.

But, while ARG'S are traditionally a group effort, i get the impression that was not what was intended with this arg.
There are no elements to be solved by those who aren't physically in the city, no puzzles to be unraveled or cipher to be broke. There just seems to be discovery, exploration and personal experiences to be had.

This combined with the backlash against the walkthroughs, (created I think under the impression that non-residents would be able to play and some way, and could use a guide to catch up) has given me the impression that team play wasn't an idea planned for in making this terrific game.

And so far it HAS been a terrific game.

I checked out a radio from abby's today (the lady at the counter had no idea what I was talking about, but luckily her co-worker returned and hooked me up)

I had already purchased my "Transcript" but went to Delores park to hear the broadcast anyway.

I sat through the entire broadcast, irritating the drug dealers and horny teens there after dark, for an hour or so, until i was sure i had heard everything and made sure there was nothing I would miss by only getting the "transcript"

Tomorrow morning I will go to procure my cd, and try to accomplish as many other steps as I can while in that neighborhood, but what I really want to do, is figure out which steps my non-arging, less than willing to dick around on the computer all day, lets do things in real life friends can get the most enjoyment out of without losing the narrative.

I plan on taking a group along with me later in the week, some to be inducted and some on whatever i find to do with them in the second act.

It is my hope that come the final acts, the game will turn out to be built for team exploration as well as for the nosey loner types (like myself) who enjoy solo exploration and achievement.

The first act worked out nicely for a group, and has helped me interest allot of my friends and coperformers in the idea of args and real world gaming.

Hopefully the rest will be something we can share and discover together.

S.B. </span>

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(no subject) [Mar. 3rd, 2009|01:22 am]
Soggy Biscuits

so in no way wound or nervous going in, ibut pretty damned beat up coming back out.

never having had surgery before i didn't know how much extra waiting there would be. I ended up going 20.5 hours without eating, and had a bitch of a migraine on the way home.

But home now many hours, with 2 weeks worth of carbohydrates in my belly, and an extra vicoden and a couple of hours napping, and a i feel pretty damned decent.

every person you speak to asks you which bod part they are operating on, what your name and birthdate is, and if you need as blanket.
And most of the people were incredibly friendly and helpful.

Iwoke up from the procedure in extreme pain and wanting to vomit, the anesthesia wearing off, but after that first hour of ice chips, pain killers ice packs and trying to stay awake, things leveled out.

Oh and all the people I dealt with were very interested and responsive to my polka dot wristband tattoo, which was mildly surprising.

So there you have it,
last lj entry was incredibly self indulgent, but that's part of the point of a livejournal, no?

Storytime gfest video is up on the fou fou ha website.
I'll post a embed later,
thanks to all,
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(no subject) [Feb. 24th, 2009|01:45 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
Does anyone know much of anything about pursuing a degree on line?
I am spending a day home trying not to get sick, (have a bug right now and a surgery next Monday, seems like a bad combo, so today I rest.

While i rest I am trying to get some life stuff in order.
I'm researching alternative revenue streams, (low end promotional photography, blogging for monies, possibly some kind of sea faring piracy or other dastardly acts), preparing my physical space for the post surgery recuperation,
arranging to learn mandarin, and looking into degree options.

As many of you know, I am almost entirely lacking in formal education, and the only thing i have ever graduated from is the Clown Conservatory.

So looking at what I can do to pursue a low level degree or certification in early childhood education, as it will lend the most benefit to my youth arts administration resume.
So, has anyone ever pursued this? If so what were your experiences, and what companies/organizations would you suggest?

Thanks in Advance,
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(no subject) [Feb. 13th, 2009|03:31 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
I am really not sure what happened,
but i have ballooned back up to almost 230.
I had managed to hit 219 a couple of weeks ago, and was thrilled.
I am absolutely riding 10 miles on sunday, and may need to be recommitting myself to cauliflower.

ON a side note, the first Hullabaloo show is March 6th. I won't be doing my trunk act there most likely, but will be doing somethign i am sure, (as I am the producer, and can swing my weight around, assuming i have anythign to show)

Tonight is informal friday's, and i will be doing an entree experiment.
I think it is important to be willing to take big risks there, and in so doing encourage others to do similar.

Though I do wish I knew why i had put on so much weight in the last week.
Being a fat lazy bastard?
Secret Alien voodoo curse?

(Stop stealing my thoughts!!!!)

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(no subject) [Feb. 3rd, 2009|07:24 pm]
Soggy Biscuits

more hereCollapse )
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(no subject) [Feb. 2nd, 2009|05:19 pm]
Soggy Biscuits
I'm really not a fan of Will Ferrel.

When I was a kid we all had gi joes and star wars action figures.
I didn't have gi joe, my parents weren't really down with that. Th eone who could afford it wouldnt tand the other didn't have the dough.
I had he man and gobots (much better than transformers damnit)

And those toy based properties became the nostalgia driven consumerist obessions of my generation.
But i think i was born on a cusp, between one mass market identity and another.

These things were never what I identified my childhood with.
There was a great deal of "grown up" stuff.
Dr. Who (which is kids stuff in the uk, but as it was a late night only on pbs fare for most of my childhood it was very adult, and very scary)
Laughin (before my time)
Benny Hill
Mr. Rogers
the electric company

I had both of these eras of media consumption as my building ground,
but nothing , nothing from the television at least had as strong of an impact on or meant as much to me today as
Land of the Lost.

I am so very excited.
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Fou Fou Ha! [Jan. 31st, 2009|06:20 pm]
Soggy Biscuits

Fou Fou Ha!
Originally uploaded by sassymonkeymedia

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