Monthly Archives: May 2007

Little Fish.

Little Fish.

Little golden fish swimming in fractals,
They know where they go,
Sometimes left, and sometimes right,
Never wrong,

Are they there to just look pretty?
Just for me to watch,
And wonder about what they think,
In their little nerve clusters?

I go left and right as well,
And I go wrong,
But I will never be as pretty,
Or impassive,

Their mouths keep moving soundlessly,
Great big gulps of nothing, over and over,
Just like people do,
Moving lips that never say a thing.

Man on Fire

Man on Fire.

If your clothes catch on fire,
Run very quickly to the store,
And buy a bag of large marshmallows,
Waving your arms along the way,

Don’t stop moving for even a moment
Or you may ruin your treat,
Eat slowly and carefully,
And enjoy every single molten bite,

It may sting a bit at first,
And you may burn the sweet to black,
But if you are patient and still,
Nothing will ever taste the same.

Before she cheats.

So Carrie Underwood wants to talk tough?


I present for you dear reader,


Before She Cheats


Right now, she’s probably getting rubbed down by some hunk named carlos,
And she says he’s her “personal trainer”,
right now, she’s probably paying his rent, with your silver amex,

Right now, he’s probably right behind her, teaching her to squat thrust,

And she don’t know…

That I stuck little bits of broken drug needles in her pretty little tampons,
replaced her mascara with nair…
I got my Louisville slugger ready for her head,
poked holes in all her hidden condoms,

Maybe next time she’ll think before she cheats.

Right now

She’s probably telling him our relationship is rocky,
Right now, he’s probably saying “I’m so sorry”
and he knows he’ll get some pussy,
Right now, she’s probably somewhere private,
away from the others getting her freak on,

And she don’t know…

That put my ear right to the ground,
Heard the bullshit that’s going around,
Opens her mouth to tell me lies,
I must hear lame alibis,
Little does she know her powder case is full of lye,

Maybe next time she’ll think before she cheats,

I might’ve saved a little trouble for the next guy,
Cause the next time that she cheats….

She’llbeinpainandhorriblyinjured, and, Oh, you know it wont be on me!

Oh, not on me, oranyoneelse,

Cause I rubbed one out inside all her shampoo bottles,
Froze my poo inside her haagen daas fudge swirl,
I ran a live wire into her tub,
Filled her car with garbage sludge,

Maybe next time she’ll think before she cheats

Oh… maybe next time she’ll think before she cheats…

Oh…before she cheats….



Eh hem.  So there you have it.

Look, don’t bother telling me how terrible this is and blah blah.  Have a sense of humor, will ya?

Thank you.





“Last night, at the Miss Universe contest, Miss USA got up in front of the crowd and gave her speech.  They all booed her.  Kelly, this year the contest was held in Mexico City, they can’t wait to get here, but they’ll boo Miss USA.”

That was Regis Philbin on Live with Regis and Kelly commenting on the Miss Universe contest held last night in Mexico City. 

Can we all stand up and give Regis Philbin a round of applause?

It was quite refreshing to see someone of his fame and stature not be afraid to say it exactly as it is.  How dare they.

Thank you Regis.


Hello everyone. 

I have some sad news to report.

Tobas appeared to be recovering from his injuries but today things took a turn for the worse.   And now, I am saddened to report, he has succumbed.  He had a few dramatic last words which I will do my very best to impart here,

I fall asleep,


I drift into me,

No ones victim but mine own,

For a short while happy,

Killing my own worst enemy,


Ok.  So, there you have it. 

Lets face it.  We all loved the emo freak, but I think it’s safe to say that it grew tiresome.  Poor son of a bitch is better off I say.  The problem is, we are inexplicably linked.  Trust me, I wish it weren’t so, but if that idiot goes, I go with him. 

At least that’s what I thought.  Turns out there is a lifeline somewhere. 

So from now on, I will be posting things he wrote before he went, and try very hard not to follow in his footsteps.  I still carry his frustration, and sadness, but I’m going to have to figure out a way to let that go as well.

He just wanted to be wanted, and to be happy.

So, with that said.  His spirit will live on here. 

I am John, the new caretaker of

I just wish he would have written his life a little better.


second chance.

Every year, right around this time, I go downstairs to take a shower, and before I step into it, I see a fat brown spider on the white floor.  It doesn’t move, but it isn’t dead. 

And every year I take a pair of needle nose pliers, and take it by one of it’s hairy little legs, and either flush it down the toilet, or open a window and let it go.  The past few years, I have opened a window and let it go on it’s merry way.  There is no use killing him, as he would do much more good outdoors, eating all those pesky mosquitos..

This year he was feisty.  He ran from my pliers, and I knocked him back, time and time again.  Finally, he grew tired and I took him as usual.  He curled in a little ball and patiently awaited his fate.

Imagine his surprise as the fresh air hit his senses.  I hope he does well with his second chance.  Perhaps he will build a web and catch lots of little annoying bugs, and if all goes well, he will produce a nice little clutch of eggs with a female somewhere.  Or perhaps not.  Either way, I spared his life.  It’s a thank-less job.

I’m all about second chances.

I know what it feels like not to get one.

Tobas health update.

Whooof.  It’s been a rough week for the ol’ Tober, a near fatal car wreck (turns out one can actually survive having a heart torn from a chest cavity, take that scary shaman from Indiana jones and the temple of doom!), indecision, unrest, exhaustion, tears, and everything in between.  It’s enough to keep an army of emo kids video blogging for ten minutes at least. 

So, while he is still recovering (painfully I might add), he is certain to make a full recovery. 

Talking to him earlier, I realized something.  Tobas lost something in that wreck.  Or perhaps he gained something, I am not entirely sure.  But it was clear to me that he is not the same Tobas.  I am uncertain as to how this will manifest itself, but I have a feeling stories on here are about to get a whole lot more interesting.  It may take a while however, as Tobas is currently crying into a small bowl of syrup laden peaches.  My advice to him currently is to keep his face above the bowl, as the salty tears create a nice contrast to the sugary sweetness of the fruit. 

In truth, he feels like a great fool.  And I don’t blame him one bit.  But like most of us, he let his emotions get the best of him.  Watching him now, I doubt he will be making that mistake again anytime soon. 

He wrote a little poem on the napkin next to his tray,

The itsy bitsy spider,
Went up the spout,

Climbed so high,
And climbed so far,
He could not find his way out,

Now resigned to his little fate,
A little web he did create,

In the middle he sat,
Eight glistening eyes,
In his web of lies.

I am unsure as to the meaning of it, but when he is fully fit and recovered, I am sure he will tell us all himself.

So, for now,

Live it, Love it,

and stay tuned.


Let Go.

Well, going against every rule I have in my rulebook, I have not cut out the pain.

That’s pretty much the only rule I guess.  Hurt me, and I go bye bye.

I don’t know if that was a good idea. 

I am still being hurt.

I suppose I’ll come around eventually.

But for now I can’t let go.

Ah well.

In memoriam.


John is devastated.

Tobas died in a terrible car wreck today.  His heart was ripped out of his chest.

Services will be held over the memorial day weekend.  How fitting.

Tobas was stupid.  he should have known better.  But he begged for his life and he was crushed.  Unfortunately, he learned his lesson too late.

John will not make the same mistake again.

He is so sorry.


A familiar place,
At a loss,

For words,
For feelings,

No sound, but the rattle of empty cups,
And the whistle of the breeze through me,

The words appear as if by magic,
Hands that lack substance,
Tap, tap, tapping,

A ghost that writes on this dark night,
Feeling nothing right,

A leper made on this dark night,
Numbness now, no more light.