outblatherme *Ziima* 'common...I know you want to. 010720 ... bloody potato chip i lose! dammit 010720 ... Gollum i eat peanut butter without milk 010720 ... ass facely my dream is to eat refried beans out of the crack of my old ladies' ass while listening to the theme from bewitched. i gues you could say i'm a renaissance man. 010720 ... paste! hmmm, that's about third on my list of things to do today. 010721 ... bloody potato chip jeez. wot's fourth? 010818 ... paste! well, july 21st, being a fairly busy day and such, was full of laughter and cramps and bacon. my dying memory tells me that the fourth mission on my list was to "self-devise" a pierced_penis with a wine bottle and some silly string. granted, it never happened but at least i got drunk and mummified. the show must go on! 010818 ... bloody potato chip sensible. bacon pudding pops! 011028 ... Dafremen Why they grabbed the pony by his ear noone knew, but what happened next would not soon be forgetten. With a squid-curdling leap the mammoth beast clove the earth under its hooves in two and leaped into the ensuing maelstrom. As his mother watched in stunned disbelief, little Timmy was sucked into the sizz-popplin' inferno that is the 7th plane of Hell...pony and all. As quickly as it had opened, the fiery gash in the ground closed up, swallowing Timmy (soon to be Lord High Daemon Malgroth, Gealbubat's heir ascendant), his mother turned to the pony ride operator, her eyes pleading with him to confirm that what she had just seen had NOT, in fact, happened at all. "Hey lady, you read the sign, ABSOLUTELY NO REFUNDS." 011029 ... flippo Forgetten? 011029 ... god i can't read. 011029 ... lost in length or most amount of posts? 011029 ... god that's cool! i want one. 011029 ... bloody potato chip just one? 011029 ... bloody potato chip no, just one 020501 ... god one, for christ sake 020501 ... stork daddy At a tournament one day. The entrance fee was five dollars. The fat man with the medium teal shirt on stamped my hand lightly with a stamp. A little red star i believe it was. The stamp was already fading by the time i passed his distinct odor that was an even stronger sensation than the brightness of the light seeping through the two doors of the entrance into the rest of the gymnasium that was dimly lit by lights that must've been at least rivaled by some of the throwaways in thomas edisons workshop. Everytime you went back from the wrestling mats into the outside world, your nose was filled with the pungent smell of the troll guarding his bridge and your eyes were blinded with the sudden rush of light which hit you like the wrong end of a train. It was sort of like being next to the projector at a movie where the film caught and started to burn. The world warped for a moment. Combined with the exhaustion, the shaky aftershocks of muscles from a match where courage and cowardice tread a fine line, slipped between two combantants like a bar of soap in a shower relay, the sensation of leaving that gymnasium was like melting yourself, for a moment the transition felt like too much and everything was that light and its pungent smell. It was like a near death experience. And in a moment it was gone. I was back outside. Some people walked along the street, oblivious to the fact that inside of that gym was a very different world. There was stillness. Quiet. Like the way a field settles down right before the aliens land. You know the feeling? Right...Right? I go to reenter, my match is called. I hadn't noticed that the sweat in drivulet waves had washed away, amidst other things, my feeble red star stamp. I tell the man not that teal isn't his color, or that the shirt isn't what is traditionally considered an appropriate size, or that i like his cauliflower ears or that if i could buy him presents on father's day i'd like it, but that my stamp must've rubbed off as a side effect of my striving mightily. He says "Oh sure...If i had five dollars for everytime someone told me that!" I pause for a moment. "YOU DO!" I tell them that's my name they're calling, he tells me he has that fantasy a lot too. My coach comes and gets me. I hear the man in teal laughing all the way up till i reach the corner of my mat. I rush to take off my warmups, I am panicked, the crowd, everyone is waiting on me. My opponent is in the center calm. He has already seen me hurried, he knows it is possible now. And we've wrestled before. He beat me. Is the man in teal still laughing? The whistle blows, and the tunnel vision begins. If he were laughing i wouldn't notice. If his laugh had spread contagiously to the rest of the crowd it'd be charlie chaplin leading a symphony, if we'd gone to war this morning it'd be someone else's problem, if virgin mary was outside riding a unicorn in a way everyone but her saw as sexual i'd be unchanged. He saw through my setup for a fireman's. His collar and elbow tieup was vicious, like paul bunyan was grabbing his wrist and swinging it at my neck. And all he might've seen was lumber, just something to build his trophy platform out of. But my first setup was a broad enough opening to set up others, i established wrist control, put him on the defensive, every value from there was either mine or back to neutral. I knew from before that he was a scrambler. I had to have five followup moves for every one i initiated. Periods passed. He selects bottom and scores an escape, we rattle each other, but find that neither of us can capitalize on the others weakness due to our own. i select bottom, this time i escape. The score is tied, it is the third period. Now overtime and sudden death. And both of us have the knowledge that one last push of strength will let us rest, will change the minds of all those watching us. It's so tiring knowing that he knows this as well as i do. I initiate a bind and a misdirection, and then a move, two moves, three moves, still scrambling. He moves in a novel way, and it's into the wilderness. I use the knowledge of the human body i've earned in so many practices, the way it pushes pulls, falls and rises. I drive against him blocking at an ankle and swinging his upperbody against its momentum. He doesn't realize it's over untill he hits and is frozen by my weight. The ref has not blown the whistle before i start screaming. My mind's strength had been my ankle's weakness. I had pushed at an angle geometrically correct but anatomically impossible like some sort of platonic idealist, and now i was hurting like some kind of realist. When they took me to the hospital, the doctor saw me sitting down looking okay and thought she'd make a joke, "sorry dude, there's no cure for ugly." All i can think is, "who pays all these bridgekeepers?" Then i looked at my medal and i realized our match had been about something else. It had been a cataclysmic mythic battle, to decide who would be the man in the teal shirt, and who would be entering the stinky bright heaven. I'm wrapped up and given ice, "dislocation not a break, tendons displaced, stay off it" The p.a. system pages my doctor and she walks off at a fidgety pace. I close my eyes and hear my name again being called, the crowd's expectant hush, the dull squeaks of our shoes on the mat, i see his coach stand up and his head turn away quickly. and then i hear me letting loose a chain of swear words that would make andrew dice clay proud. a loss in the midst of a victory, and truth is complicated. what do i say when people ask if i won? I walk out into the world from the hospital, and limp out into an open sky, the brightness momentarily blinding me. Even in this modest scene outside the hospital, i can see so many of the innumerable bridgekeepers and their various bridges. a collection of trolls and unicorns, of tolls and medals and championship stamps, and little buildings people walk by everyday without ever wondering. 021021 ... stork daddy ooh...anyone for a bad romance novella? yes it can get even worse than the above. 021021 ... Dafremen Oh silly stork, you can do better (worse?) than that. Please do. 030403 ... jessicafletcher vaginas rule 030404 ... stork daddy you've always had the hots for me huh daf? 030404 ... stork daddy a love story: he mouthed hello. he mouthed it breathily, hello, hello; holding each syllable as if it was a enjoyed weight lifting repitition in a dimly lit gym full of mirrors. Dafremen's eyes rose to eye contact full of anticipation and apprehension and stork daddy said it again, and again, and again. hello, hello, hello. twenty or thirty times he said it. his exhalations were now so heavy that a thickening layer of drool dripped down his chin and into his thick chest hair where it coagulated into a hard sweet candy. no sooner than it had, than Dafremen was upon him, nibbling gently away at the tangled and heated fur which was now soaked beyond dignity, like a puppy in afterbirth. when their lips pressed together they were soft and warm like Arby's Roast Beef. "Oh stork daddy you're the best!" stork daddy whispered to Dafremen. Dafremen muttered something surprised and possibly defensive, "i'm surprised and possibly defensive" "No no no, Stork Daddy, you're the best is what you're supposed to say." But he wouldn't say it, so Dafremen was keelhauled and left in Madagascar. Stork Daddy was left a panting mess in the middle of the ship, but still captain of his own vessel. After regaining composure he explained to his men the next mission, "men, we are going to raid the next port we land in, and i will send scouts out to find the most Dafremen looking person amongst the citizenry. Once found we will back this Daf stand-in into a corner and our best men will set up a perimeter to ensure no escape. Then my inner guard will come and remove my clothing, at which point i will force degrading cuddling on this Daf stand-in untill he says to me 'Stork Daddy you're the best.' I assure you men, we will not rest untill i hear this phrase from someone who at least looks kind of like Dafremen. Are you with me?" At this point, Stork Daddy was keelhauled and left in Madagascar. Luckily Madagascar is a big island, and he peacefully starved to death. 030404 ... Dafremen Alright. So that was just sick. I retract my request. 030405 ... stork daddy it's about time someone saw how sick i am 030405 ... realistic optimist i couldn't agree more. so i'll agree just slightly less. 040125 ... insanctis_fure i think that counts as my laugh-retch for today. 040125 ... egger . 040125 ... pedantic idiot i loved every word of both of them..such vibrant vignettas...heh heh.. delicious! 040126 ... witchesrequiem Dancing chipped nails wind to harsh yet must move, no run. run until knees shake ground approuches, feeling the wound before the blood spilt onto the pavement, soaking down calming the salamanders in my head. That burn eternaly, white, then like demon haunting, possessing, the darkness, the heat. The world between places spins yet I am sober from to many glasses of wine and whiskey already. Paste smell of roses an mint, mouth cracked eyes glazed, twitch, turn. The ice Queen has caught up spilling wrath in smoky freezing waves. Only sweat the blue hair sticky,clutching to albanaster breasts. Time has returned and sand is crusted in eyelids that never shut. 040127 ... oldephebe that was a m a z a i n g!!! 040127 ... u24 well, here I am on lunchbreak, wondering what to do so here I go, blathering untill 1 o'clock, at which point I'll go outside the office and buy some more cigarettes, or I may try to steal one from Pete who is in the other room, because otherwise, I don't think I've got enough money for cigarettes, I should have stolen some of Linds', she did offer but they wouldn't fit in the packet becuase she got superkings but the shop I bought mine from didn't sell superkings so I had to buy normal sized ones. Then I'll smoke the cigarette, in fact I probably won't smoke it all, I usually don't, then I might go back to the shop and buy some sweets if I have enough money, thenI'll return to work, and possibly get a glass of water from the kitchen and then I need to zip up the featherpost site, and then move "little darlings" to defiant (the webserver) then I can start modifying the registrants module to allow retailers to be added, then I need to integrate it with the front end of the site (in fact there is no front end yet, so I'll just create a barebones thing) Then it'll probably be about 2 or 3, and I'm not sure what I'll do after that. good grief my hand aches typing without pausing really is hard. In fact, typing without any real direction is quite hard, too. I might start using a dvorak keyboard, it'd be fun. Oh Crap! I was supposed to phone a load of people in my lunchbreak but now it's nearly over and i won't have time. Fuck! damn shit and arse, well, I'll have to see if I can do it later this afternoon, otherwise Linds will be pissed off. And I really should phone them becuase it's important. In fact, it could wait untill tomorrow, but I really should doit today. Linds and I had a great conversation last night about Plato and some other Philosopher whose name neither of us could remember. It's 12.46 now, so I'm half way through and rapidly running out of things to write about so I guess I'll just have to keep typing until I really do come to a dead end, which would be unfortunate becuase I'd like this to be a really big chunk of text on the screen. well.. that's about it! 12.49. . 040127 ... somebody Stork Daddy's second blathe here is real funny. 081116 ... jane you're real funny. 081117 ... somebody yes... yes i am. 081117 what's it to you? who go blather from