My favorite Cult of the Absurd referrals

(I know this is blogging de rigueur, but it’s fun!):

besthelpforhemorrhoidsnow.com

www.google.com/search?q=tied+up+cum+shots

www.bodybuildingrx.com/products.html

Favorite Key words:

the song digestion boogaloo (Just gotta say huh?)

tied up cum shots (back for its second round!)

cult rabbit head (what cult is this? Sign me up!)

kierkegaard existentialism (now this just makes me happy)

Hey blog perusers from everywhere – keep reading the posts, I’ll keep writing them.

If you’re looking for higher quantity postings, you might want to check out my tumblr account as well, as I post there almost daily (nothing against this blog, I simply try to keep its quantity and quality more consistant) at http://lifeencoded.tumblr.com/

See ya in the (no, I can’t say it…) blogosphere. (Blech!)

Tweet This!

These are some of my rejected entrants in the NYC Midnight micro-fiction contest (hope you enjoy the losers):


An old story: boy meets girl, boy sleeps with girl, boy never calls. Worlds divided by empty words.

The words were dark, making his heart wrench. He drove his fist into the other man, driven by rage.

As they they lay there, he said many things. But in the end, his words were as empty as his heart.

Words, ties which bind us to forever. Clouds floating in Machiavellian glee. New concepts absorbed.

Born of sentences. Stung by words. Eviscerated by paragraphs. Reformed by phrases. Vaguely dubious.

As she walked home, the stars exploded with words. She couldn't believe she'd met a pleasant person.

Birthday (Fiction in 55)

The sun beat down as I marched up the hill. It was my girlfriend's birthday and I'd just been in a car accident. Her flowers were wilting, her card was smudged, but at least the bottle of wine wasn't broken, much like my spirit. I've never wanted to be home so much in my life.

Which best describes you? (like a non-job interview)

Several times a day...

1. I follow the leader.

2. I contemplate the existence of Jebus.

3. I fall down laughing from Existential Irony.

4. I attempt to decipher (on my own) the Rosetta Stone.

5. I meet with my superiors to determine the best way to assassinate world leaders.

6. I watch television.

7. I end my long career in journalism.

8. I await orgasm with baited breath.

9. I watch my neighbor's murder through the back window of my apartment.

10. I supplement my CCG collection on Ebay.

11. I find substance where there is none.

What qualifies as an unusual day?

1. A man (my second customer of the day) refuses to pay eighty-nine cents more than his assumption of an original, post-tax purchase of plastic, display flowers, and argues with me, a co-worker and a manager in Spanish for five minutes.

2. The night before, I have trouble sleeping on account of strange dreams involving sinister shadow-shapes trying to abduct Nicole and I. That and work until close (one am) and have to be at work at ten am the next morning. I've always had trouble calming down when I work late. I don't know why.

3. When the couple in front of her don't have enough food stamps to pay for their order, they walk off, never to return (this is not abnormal). After waiting for a considerable amount of time, enough to clear out and return their order - and upon finding her Chicken Salad sans any price or UPC code - she is still remarkably cordial.

4. A man, upon finding out he was accidentally charged for the next customer's soda, rather than making a stink or requesting a refund, simply gives the other fellow the soda.

5. I find out that my college transcript, which was supposed to be sent to a prospective college a month ago, is being held, pending my summer semester grades. Problem being: I'm not taking any summer courses.

6. I hit my elbow against a basket and rather than the old tingling, funny-bone action as per usual, an odd pain leaps up my arm, causing me to get really fucking dizzy.

7. Its not bad enough I'm running around pushing baskets in the blacktop at 103 degrees Fahrenheit, but on top of that, a bunch of cranky, just after nine-to-fivers keep nearly running me over in their quest for the perfect parking spot.

All things considered, yesterday was a fucked up day.

First Impression (Fiction in 55 or less)

I saw him coming out of a barber shop, walking down 15^th Street. He stared at me an unhealthy length of time, his gaze leering and inappropriate. I readied my "see anything you like," comment as he gawked interminably at me. As he got closer, I realized he was blind. I felt like an utter fool.

Waiting Game

Why are humans so very impatient these days? For that matter, why am I so impatient? I started wondering about this when I noticed myself tapping my fingers and toes anytime I had to wait for anything. When did I decide that life was taking too long? I wonder if it has something to do with being over thirty (or was I always this impatient?). Everywhere I go, I notice the same tell-tale signs: people rolling through stoplights, constantly checking their phones for time, texts or voice mails, rolling their eyes whenever somebody breaks out a checkbook. I mean, does it really take an interminable amount of time to scribble shit onto a tiny piece of paper?

Perhaps our everything-at-our-fingertips world taints our ability to persevere. Perhaps being able to flip through channels when commercials come on, or flip between windows when our movies are buffering, led us down this path. Is it really so bad to wait? Are we so insufferable when we're waiting because we smell the end at hand (and I don't mean all this 2012 nonsense)? And I'm certainly not suggesting I'm immune to this behavior. It's not that difficult to wait in line, or sit at traffic lights, but somehow it seems as though anything usurping our precious time ought to wind up before a tribunal on crimes against humanity. The rapid pacing of our lives seems to have eaten away at our ability to slow down, to take our time. To savor the universe around us, rather than spin ever faster down our paths. This is tragic. Perhaps we all need to sit back for a few seconds every day and watch the clouds marching across the sky (unless you live in Texas right now, then imagine them, like I do), enjoy the birds chatting up each other in the trees, or the accidental sculpture of hills and valleys. Because our internal clocks are right. We are running out of time. And the truly saddest people will be those who lived without enjoying themselves, because there are no guarantees as to what awaits us when life's over.

So I beg you (maybe not you in particular): savor the small things, slow down for just a second or two. You'll get where your going eventually, but will you be ready for what you don't find?