Monday, December 26, 2011

The Mad Poet

Against the even madder dullness of the world.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Video - "A Poet's Exercise"

(Authorial Note: This is a sample of a little tiny movie I will post in a few days.)

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

The Cynical Finger

"The best and most beautiful things in life cannot be seen or even touched, they have already been sold."

"A penny saved is nothing, in these dark times."

"A bird in the hand may poop there."

Monday, July 25, 2011

#22 - The Nihilistic Mole

The mole disbelieved the brown, bulbous mass of its body.

The hairs sprouting from its center were valueless and might as well be burnt off.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Video - An interpretation of "Hound Dog"

(Authorial note: I have been out of touch for a week and will post a new story tomorrow!)

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

#21 - The Existential Knee

The knee did not disappoint itself with expectations.

It believed only in its own experience.

It scorned concrete, external explanations of life's meaning.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Extra - Longer Story - "Mr. William's Dream"

Mr. William woke before the sun had risen. His eyes were gooey and tired. He slapped his alarm until it stopped ringing. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He scrubbed his back. He turned off the shower. He brushed his teeth.

He went back to his room and pulled his suit and tie from its hanger. He put it on and tied his shiny black shoes.

He pulled out of his driveway and drove to work.

He entered his dim office and sat down at his desk. His office smelled like old coffee and stale cardboard. A giant pile of papers waited for him. It was his job to make sure there were no mistakes on any of the papers, because if there were, somebody would lose money.

Mr. William did not like his job, but he pulled the first paper from the top of the pile and started to do it anyway.

At noon he ate a dry sandwich for lunch, and then continued to work until 4 o’clock when he was free to leave. He walked outside. It was raining. He got into his car and drove home.

After eating his dinner, Mr. William climbed into bed. His head was fuzzy and aching. He closed his eyes.

It wasn’t often that Mr. William had a dream, but as he drifted slowly into sleep, he found himself sitting at work again. Instead of beginning to review the papers as he should have, though, he took off into the air, flapping his arms furiously.

Giving himself an extra push off his desk as he rose, he shot over the heads of his cubicled coworkers and out the front door.

Outside, it was still raining. Mr. William tilted his body upward and flapped as hard as he could until he broke through the damp clouds and into the vast, white, sunlit field above.

“I can fly anywhere,” he thought to himself, “I can go to see all of the things I’ve always wanted to see!” He considered this for a few moments, resting on a cloud, then sprung excitedly into the air.

“I can go to see the giant ball of twine in Darwin, Minnesota!”

And off he sped.

He ducked under the clouds occasionally to check his direction, and each time looked down on the miniature people and cars below, busily running from place to place. He wondered if any of them had time to look up and see him passing overhead.

He flew for what must have been two hours. Then, through a break in the clouds ahead of him, he saw it. He had imagined he would proudly be able to land right on top of it, but now, as he flew closer, he saw that it was enclosed in a little hut surrounded by a chain-link fence.

He zoomed down and skidded to a stop on the grass outside.

He walked all of the way around it -- it was very big indeed, for a ball of twine. He discovered that one side had a clear glass window instead of a chain-link fence, and he could have his picture taken in front of it for only ten dollars. A little ticket booth stood a few yards away.

The boy running the booth grinned at Mr. William and waved a camera. Mr. William paid and went eagerly back to pose.

“If only I weren't dreaming!” he thought.

The boy's camera flashed and the sound of Mr. William’s alarm clock woke him up.

It was dreary and gray. Mr. William dragged himself out of bed, showered and went to work. The day passed even more slowly than usual. He had forgotten his lunch.

He returned home and could not bring himself to cook a complete dinner. He ate some granola bars, drank a couple of glasses of milk and watched the news on his little television.

When his eyelids began to droop, he got up and went into his bedroom to sleep.

As he climbed into bed and pulled his pillow closer, his hand ran across an flat, papery object underneath it. He pulled it out. It was an envelope with his name written on the front. He opened it slowly and pulled out its contents.

To his amazement, there, smiling up at him, was his photo from the giant ball of twine in Darwin, Minnesota, and his receipt for ten dollars.

#20 - The Bug

The bug sat on the wall.

It didn't have dreams or ambitions.

There was some dirt by its foot.

Monday, July 11, 2011

#19 - The Floating Specter of Hopeless Idealism

"Bill, get over her and look at this," she shouted, "Bill!"

"What is it?"

"I don't know," she said, scowling through her shades, "get over here and look."

Sunday, July 10, 2011

#18 - The Bunny Awakens

The bunny slept for the whole night and the next day and then another night.

Finally, her fever broke and she awoke in the morning with a bright-eyed start.

Feeling much better, she rushed to eat Eggs Benedict.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Video - "What Happens to Cake"

A realistic examination of what happens to cake.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

#17 - The Compulsive Moose

Under some sod, the moose had hidden five full packages of oreos.

Come nightfall, he would devour them all in secret.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

#16 - The Leaping Poet

He intoned earnestly:

"Mercy me, I do love thee, my sweetest dear sweet-pea.

If words were curds and bards made lard I’d churn an urn of cream."

#15 - An Abstraction

Ebbop had become lost.

Everything looked vaguely familiar, but there was a distinct incoherence about it all.

Monday, July 4, 2011

#14 - A Border

After walking for hours, Movner reached a border.

He could cross it, or not.

He stared down, internally conflicted.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Painting - "Moon"

This is a watercolor I did a while ago.

#13 - A Pelican

A pelican sat still on a wooden post near the shore.

Waves rolled past.

One might never guess, save for the bow-tie and a certain fervent glow in its eyes, that it had operatic ambitions.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

#12 - A Disciple

Zealous exhaustion dug rings around Jebom's eyes.

He had struggled desperately to abide by the Zit's commandments, but a beef sandwich had failed to appear.

He began to wonder if he had taken the Zit's words too literally -- if, in fact, the Zit spoke in analogs of something more distant and sublime.

Friday, July 1, 2011

#10 - The Moral Zit

Its little white face shone with righteousness.

"Ye who move too slowly shall be trodden upon by those who tread, while ye who zip and hop about with zest and vigor shall be spared and given beef sandwiches."

The crowd reacted silently, marveling at the moral sensibilities of the zit and secretly desiring to pop it.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

#9 - At Sea

They were far adrift and desperate.

The food had run out, but the wind was high.

To the great relief and enjoyment of his companion, Bofum inflated himself.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

#8 - The Sleeping Bunny

The bunny was feeling sick, she wasn't even hungry.

She went to bed early and fell straight to sleep with a fever.

I hoped very much she would feel better the next morning.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

#7 - The Sveater

The sveater was full of holes and hung forgotten in the closet alone like a jilted lover left to cry on a rainy street or a flea carcass clinging to a single hair long after the passing of its life-force; a tiny speck on the face of a world lost somewhere in the universe.

It had belonged to a poet and been the subject of many an ode or sonnet.

Monday, June 27, 2011

#6 - The Tactful Foot

The foot kept its mouth shut.

It never spoke out of turn or too loudly.

Even in the worst of situations, it maintained a bright, tasteful level of decorum.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

#5 - Drain

There was a tiny wise man in my drain yesterday morning.

He looked at me very seriously and said: "Without expectation, beauty shines from each and every thing; each and every action; each and every feeling in its simplicity and responsibility for itself alone."

I was forced to flush him away when I turned on the water to wash my hands.

Video - "Bread"

This was made a long time ago.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

#4 - The Cucumber Boy

He popped off the vine one day and began to speak.

He told everyone, "My name is Bonbo, I'm the cucumber boy!"

They believed him, and many years later gathered around him as he lay dying.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

#3 - The Possum

He lay in bed.

The numbers on the clock glowed red, "4:32".

It was out there, somewhere, waiting in the darkness until sleep forced his cloudy eyes to close.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

#2 - Microwave

Math homework lay unfinished on the table.

The food in the microwave was still lukewarm.

The late evening sun drew shadows across the valleys left in the couch by their absent buttocks.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

#1 - On Pip-Beards

He came to me in a dream.

"You look a little like someone I've seen before, but your beard is longer." I said.

"This is what's called a 'pip-beard,'" he exclaimed gleefully, "It's short on the left and then 'pips' to the right!"