tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36036130605258399432011-06-08T01:39:37.659-05:00non-linear summationUpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.comBlogger981100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-11861658839891527342009-01-15T14:01:00.000-06:002009-01-15T14:01:00.218-06:00

It's been almost two years and almost one hundred posts since I began posting my drainage here. It was a place to recount events or introduce ideas outside of my other blog (at the time, blogs). Posting here is therapeutic.Recently, I've decided to consolidate my thoughts and findings and writings into one place. That place became ThoughtChasm.com. I have brought the entire Drainage archive

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-80070603967922454242009-01-15T14:00:00.000-06:002009-01-15T14:00:00.330-06:00

The car, green, or blue, it's hard to tell in only the glow of the headlights, careens toward us, sliding to the left, fishtailing, running front-end first into the median thirty feet away. It bounces off the concrete, turns sideways and quickly comes to a stop.My left hand is tight on the wheel and my right is on the shifter, pretending that driving off is an option. Helpless, Girlfriend and I

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-21949488142163291212008-12-11T16:00:00.000-06:002008-12-11T16:04:13.055-06:00

There are dozens at tables, quieted by the few at the front of the room. Everyone's attention is on them as they thank everyone for introducing themselves, gratitude for coming and their general appreciation for being able to come together.One of them changes tone, mentioning the elder brother not in attendance. Another's face sinks into sadness, telling everyone where he is, that he's close and

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-28860530433690529762008-11-19T09:00:00.000-06:002008-11-19T09:00:03.133-06:00

He sold his business in the restaurant industry to avoid stress. He’s not given information before arriving at the stop. However, he’s seen as the authority until someone else arrives. Dozens line up, confused.They all see the bus, then the driver, and wonder why they’re unable to board. The wind is biting. They start to dance, warming their muscles against cold’s advances.She complains, loudly,

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-46493644165302744922008-11-13T14:00:00.002-06:002008-11-13T14:00:00.692-06:00

He’s floating, barely. His clothes are soaked through. His eyes, wide and frightened, stare to the sky while his arms struggle to keep him afloat. His arms are tired, overworked and flailing. He dips more often under the waves.His labored breath is choked and rapid. His head spins in all directions, looking for any sign of hope. His legs are tied to a stone. It’s small but over time, as he grows

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-16425422241666264212008-11-11T14:00:00.002-06:002008-11-11T14:00:01.084-06:00

I cross at the crosswalk. I’m half to the other side when I notice the bus coming at me, slowing to a stop at the corner. Just ahead, a man steps from the doorway of a nearby building, making His way to the bus.He’s smiling awkwardly and expending too much effort. His hair is long, thin, blond and appears greasy. His gate is stuttered; He’s struggling. He’s still more than fifteen feet away.He

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-13954766992048524502008-11-06T16:00:00.000-06:002008-11-06T16:00:00.434-06:00

I lean against the glass, standing opposite the bike rack on the light rail headed south. The night is warm, smelling of fall and coming cooler nights. Voices echo off the plastic walls, resonating and creating a sea of white noise.To my right, a pale woman with blood dripping from her eyes. She laughs with her friend who has a red-striped sweater and matching hat over jeans. His glasses have no

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-45079611531008489862008-11-05T10:00:00.000-06:002008-11-05T10:00:04.995-06:00

Inspirational. I’m not prone to optimism. In fact, I’m very much opposed to it on a fundamental level. Still, I underestimated the power of a moment like this. The history of it is suffocating.He stands, behind the podium in front of more than one hundred thousand people, with confidence and humility. There are no snickers, no air of predestined grandeur, just an air of satisfaction, filled with

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-65514550629447321242008-10-30T13:00:00.001-05:002008-10-30T13:00:01.727-05:00

The raft bucks and sways with the small waves. Rays of clear sunlight beat against my eyelids and warm my chest. In the distance, voices and boat motors spill over one another into a constant, whisper-quiet hum.I lay on the plastic, all-weather carpet, breathing slowly. The lapping of the waves against the pontoons passes for aggressive compared to all else. My body resists nothing, releasing any

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-28819817396561289152008-10-28T11:00:00.001-05:002008-10-28T11:00:02.432-05:00

Just one more week and this will all be over.That’s all I’m hearing. Sure, the election will be over and all will be right in the world. Maybe there’s a black guy behind the desk or a near-dead shell of what was never a maverick with his shaky fingers above the nuclear codes.Whatever the case, does everyone think it’s going to just go away? If the old one’s elected democracy will be exposed as a

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-45067816912196845742008-10-23T12:00:00.002-05:002008-10-23T12:00:00.590-05:00

I can’t see her face, the room is dark. On stage, the writer reads about his past. He’s funny and, like so many others, she responds with laughter. Unlike the hundreds in attendance, her laugh is a halted, loud honking.She’s a goose in a human suit. Her laugh shakes the earth, drawing attention from many in a forty-foot radius. Most of them turn subtly, glancing over, trying to put a face to the

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-20828275659688040672008-10-21T08:00:00.004-05:002008-10-21T08:00:00.851-05:00

I roll onto my back, start to sit up and my side explodes. Everything goes white. All of me aches, throbs or yells, protesting every slight movement. For a moment there is nothing but pain.I close my eyes and lay still, going over the night before in my head. She was gorgeous, with large, dark eyes and near black hair. We were flirting, but only just. We walked outside with a group before a call

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-44067937171134528352008-10-14T12:00:00.001-05:002008-10-14T11:43:26.355-05:00

What if he was just a man, like any other?What if he traveled in search of something more, like so many, and found enlightened teachings? He may come back and tell others those ideas, piquing their interest. If they were popular they would spread easily.Those teachings would have been new and threatening had the establishment recognized them. He would have been punished severely. He would have

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-39407849338104998942008-10-09T13:00:00.000-05:002008-10-09T13:05:03.495-05:00

We are increasingly governed by fear. We’re told we’re threatened, that we need to hold true to failed policies. We’re manipulated. Our fear is aimed in the wrong direction.We fear attacks from terrorists and hope to increase our military strength. We’re twice as strong as the next strongest, Russia, and spend eight times more than the next biggest spender, France (and half of all global spending

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-84192638742310698512008-10-07T10:00:00.002-05:002008-10-07T10:05:00.603-05:00

He manufactured his own myth with remarkable success. He manipulates his points and shifts alliances with is own aspirations. He flares, yells and cuts down elderly women, fellow congressmen and commanding officers who argue with him. He’s selfish and spoiled.He finds solace in fatalism. He’s most inspired when he’s up against the ropes or down and out. He’s uncomfortable with victory. He erupts

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-49868293297532930992008-10-03T13:00:00.000-05:002008-10-03T13:00:02.284-05:00

She stands behind the podium, smiling incessantly, reading prepared answers from the teleprompter scrolling on her neurons. Her accent ebbs and flows depending on the severity of the topic, or how ill-versed she may be on it. She stares into the camera talking with the people on the other side of it.He, a week before, stood behind a similar podium, uncomfortable and shifty. He refused to meet

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-91964797471986309712008-09-30T16:00:00.000-05:002008-09-30T16:07:47.239-05:00

My hand is clammy, sweating against the metal of my trumpet. Heat radiates from my face like asphalt after an afternoon in the sun. The conductor stands impatient, shifting his weight from right to left. The men scan the room, their faces show no emotions.When they walked in a few moments ago I thought they looked right at me. Someone told them. They knew already and were disrupting the class to

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-24178064764120517142008-09-25T13:00:00.000-05:002008-09-25T13:00:00.818-05:00

He was sitting, slouched and frail, in the chair he’s been sitting in every time I’ve visited since he moved. She’s sitting on the bed, only a few feet from him, next to me. He looks over at her and then around the room, not looking at anything. Far away.“I was lucky twice in my life. That the Germans surrendered before we crossed the Rhine was the first and the second was Dort here.” His eyes

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-37236595938798290242008-09-23T11:00:00.000-05:002008-09-23T11:00:01.564-05:00

We forgot the three branches of government were meant to check one another, creating a balance of powers. We forfeited privacy rights and taxes while one branch was politicized and another handed its power to the third. Instead of balancing power, it was gladly defaulted.We forgot outsourcing labor to compete on a global stage does nothing for national wealth. Corporations did as designed,

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-33507628281729547552008-09-19T08:00:00.000-05:002008-09-19T08:00:02.775-05:00

We’re sitting around in a circle, all the desks facing toward the center. Across from me is a girl who I’ve shared class with since Kindergarten. We don’t talk often. Most are shuffling their papers or waiting impatiently for something to do.I sigh, push myself against the back of my chair, using the top of my desk for leverage, and crack my back. We’re reviewing four or five papers today. I read

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-56893488318787770752008-09-16T11:00:00.000-05:002008-09-16T11:00:00.889-05:00

There are two strong candidates vying for the most powerful position on Earth with bold proclamations. Despite my hopes, the victor will most likely be old and white. The liberal media is a myth, both candidates mislead and manipulate and we don’t have power to control the outcome. But that’s not why the old one wins.The mainstream media is impressively conservative, the most influential voices

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-10419505984798962008-09-12T10:00:00.000-05:002008-09-12T10:15:31.632-05:00

Intern and I walk down the hill toward the perimeter. We’re to meet coworkers outside of a bar downtown. We round the curve, the arena comes into view.Chain-link fence cuts through the median. Just days ago it was a busy artery to the center of town, now void of cars but for the sheriff and police patrols and the occasional military Humvee. Within the barrier at the corner closest to us are a

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-10803467144075802962008-09-09T08:00:00.000-05:002008-09-09T08:00:02.336-05:00

“Hi, I’m from the College of Design and I was just calling to update you on some changes here at the U.” says the female voice on the phone. She sounds young. I’m not that far out of school myself; I should talk.I guess they finally found my new number somehow. I’m doing alright, no complaints.“Have you been to campus recently or heard of some of the changes here?”Odd how I was just there for the

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-22377570466034346282008-09-05T10:00:00.001-05:002008-09-05T10:00:02.472-05:00

She’s smarter than this. I know she is.We met many years ago. We shared a computer programming class. She was funny, articulate and entertaining, the distraction was welcome. She lived just a few left turns from myself, less than a mile.Our friendship grew through high school and more so in college; we attended the same school. We saw each other occasionally on the large campus and knew some of

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-85984734619963953632008-09-02T13:00:00.000-05:002008-09-02T13:00:02.381-05:00

There is no moment, no instant of slight pause, like in the movies. There is no impetus. There is no catalyst to point to as an origin. It is fluid.It is easy. It grows without attention, without effort. It just is. Then it washes over me. Without an idea of where or when it started or where it will lead, I can’t be without her.The awareness has little effect on its growth. There’s surprise but

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-85306418741646277422008-08-29T13:00:00.001-05:002008-08-29T13:00:00.513-05:00

On the television the crowd is immense. The screen cuts away to a video, framed by the station’s brand.It’s cheesy, filled with token photographs deep in thought and glowing testimonials. Even trite and sappy, it’s effective. It sets a tone. It’s an introduction. It builds momentum.The screen cuts back to the massive crowd surrounding an empty podium. It’s red, rimmed with white, standing atop a

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-10228934064355164922008-08-26T13:00:00.000-05:002008-08-26T13:00:01.123-05:00

He stands next to the stone wall, stoic, silent. The unmanned television camera is five or six feet away, facing him. His eyes are closed. His arms are crossed in front of his navy blazer. He holds a microphone in one hand.The train leaves the stop and passes him quickly. He could be thinking, outlining his to-do list for the day or the remainder of the week. He could be rehearsing his piece,

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-11238254305020214052008-08-20T12:00:00.001-05:002008-08-20T12:00:02.262-05:00

Every seat is full, a crowded bus, but there’s no white noise. No one—not even those who boarded together—talks to one another. The quiet is simultaneously comforting and the opposite. It’s normal. I fight the silence with music through my headphones.In more and more places, we isolate ourselves. We don’t talk about things we’d talk about in private and find endless humor in those that talk

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-48866091485737854882008-08-13T13:00:00.002-05:002008-08-13T13:00:00.891-05:00

The engine roars under the wing, behind me out the window. The seat vibrates lightly with soothing consistency. Were it not so cramped it would be incredibly comfortable.We ascend through the clouds and level out at tens of thousands of feet. Looking down, the clouds cover everything like a thick white quilt, down spills from hundreds of holes in its surface. The quilt reaches as far as I can

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-38148202329022816532008-08-06T11:00:00.001-05:002008-08-06T11:09:17.886-05:00

Over to the right, behind the car my co-workers, some other volunteers and I are washing, a crowd gathers. We’ve been cleaning cabs for almost two hours. I wipe the squeegee with the towel while the most recent airport transport starts to drive off.The cab wash is set up in the stadium parking lot. There are four stalls in two rows, using the parking lines and cones as markers. Cabs wait at the

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-61450270285057239542008-07-24T12:00:00.000-05:002008-07-24T12:58:54.115-05:00

The sun radiates behind me, warming my shoulders and back. On my hands and knees, the ground is a thick layer of mud like the frosting of a birthday cake. In it are diagrams and and writings. Most are indiscernible, written in a language I don’t speak or describing events yet to happen.Drawn in thick lines when the mud was saturated and nearly fluid is my destiny. A definitive path meanders

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-41504275936988174072008-07-18T10:00:00.001-05:002008-07-24T10:23:24.262-05:00

I couldn’t pull the cord fast enough. I’d pull it, feel the resistance it tugged the starter, but the engine wouldn’t burst into the familiar choppy thumping and come to life. Dad steps out of the house and makes his way over. I press the small plastic button again, forcing more fuel into the engine.I pull the cord with similar results and lean down to push the priming button again. “Hold on, let

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-29260127781435636622008-06-20T14:00:00.000-05:002008-06-20T14:00:00.806-05:00

I exit the train and see the bus waiting there. I, along with a few others, rush to step on before it leaves the stop. The wait for the next one is almost a half hour and unreliable.I ignore most of the passengers—it’s busier than usual—and make my way toward the back. The National blares in my ears, drowning out much of the conversation around me, but I catch bits of the conversation next to me,

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-45356368775456914562008-06-17T12:00:00.002-05:002008-06-17T12:04:36.293-05:00

I enter the conference room and make my way to the far corner. I set my notepad down and walk back toward the door where the line is already ten people long. More are immediately behind me.The line moves past the table, each person gazing over the food choices. They talk amongst themselves, about what they’ll eat, what looks good and what they’ll avoid. “I would but—,” “I wish I could...” and “

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-46265392133234189422008-06-10T10:00:00.000-05:002008-06-10T10:07:25.282-05:00

I’m driving along with Girlfriend in the passenger seat and a girlfriend in the back. The heat is finally dissipating, the air rushing in the windows. The conversation darts between the crowds of the morning and the games at the house we just left and the people there.On the right, next to a sedan parked on the side of the road, are two men that look familiar. From a couple blocks away, I can’t

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-54780065964718257262008-05-28T10:00:00.000-05:002008-05-28T10:20:31.003-05:00

All around me is dark, but for some light filtering through the light fixture in the suspended ceiling. I wake knowing I should get more sleep, that I’ve only had a few hours rest, but can’t remember why. Then, in quick flashes, the previous night materializes.The crowd at the bar, the overwhelming noise, the streets I didn’t recognize, the police lights flashing behind me, unable to dial the

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-30605041189178818332008-05-20T10:00:00.001-05:002008-05-20T10:00:07.498-05:00

“Ahmad came, and all of a sudden, we had an angel! This intellectual idea that we were believing in regardless of him, all of a sudden we are like, here is the Arab democrat. See, they exist. Not all Arabs have horns. You know! God sent us this real democrat. And he meant it! He wasn’t lying about his belief in democracy. Here’s proof: Arabs can be democrats.” - Meyrav Wurmser, The Man Who Pushed

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-2726829173491612852008-05-02T15:00:00.001-05:002008-05-02T15:00:02.017-05:00

At the light-rail stop, my headphones mute the world around me in favor of the film soundtrack in my iPod. I open the book, and begin reading. It’s quite good and I’m lost in its pages. Something, whether a feeling or a noise I don’t hear or maybe a movement beyond my vision, makes me look up at the street running parallel the tracks.She’s directly across from me in a car stopped at the light to

drayndnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-7911938311802506252008-04-24T10:00:00.000-05:002008-04-24T10:23:03.462-05:00

The first man steps into the rail car on the second stop after I did. He’s in his early forties. He wears a windbreaker that looks to be about a hundred dollars, expensive sunglasses and slacks, the right leg of which is pinned with a binder clip. He wears a bicyclist’s cap and helmet on his head.The bike he’s pushing in front of him is well-maintained. It’s about twenty-four inches, between five

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-73353917147945651252008-04-21T18:00:00.000-05:002008-04-21T17:52:40.147-05:00

The country is facing epidemic obesity and weight-related health problems. Treatment of preventable conditions feed the health care industry. Heath care is one of our fastest growing sectors in cost and profits, outside of oil and defense spending.The problem cannot entirely be blamed on the public, nor the high-calorie, low-nutrition industry. Portion sizes at restaurants have grown according to

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-14874040654555025822008-04-17T09:00:00.002-05:002008-04-17T08:54:27.306-05:00

I saw her at the refrigerator when the hall opened into the office kitchen. I get to work earlier than most, so there was no one else around. She was going to say something.“Good morning. How are you doing?” She only glances to see it’s me before turning back to what she’s doing. I muster a short reply and rinse off a plate from yesterday. I empty my water bottle and move to the other

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-30429574124414053172008-04-14T11:00:00.000-05:002008-04-14T11:05:52.353-05:00

Some people bottle their self-worth in their self-image. Their happiness is inextricably intertwined with their attractiveness. They spend their mornings primping and parading until they have the confidence to face the day. I’m not one of those people.Some people fear the uncontrollable. They worry about events out of their hands or beyond their ability to change. They stress and fret when others

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-64783674303319313192008-03-28T15:00:00.000-05:002008-03-28T14:49:09.459-05:00

They cover my ears, blocking aural interference almost completely. The digital acoustics seem to emanate from inside my head. The outside world is drowned out but for what I can see. From the plane overhead to the scraping of my shoes on the sidewalk, the sounds are muted and I walk along as if inside a modern silent film. Almost all outside sounds are blocked.The isolation is satisfying, like a

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-21337700894319528342008-03-12T12:00:00.000-05:002008-03-12T11:49:16.819-05:00

I round the corner and he’s sitting against the wall of the grocery store about a block away. He’s furiously sketching in a small notebook. His clothes are somewhat raged and his hair looked unwashed. A woman, walking toward me, stops when he says something. She shakes her head slightly, says something and hastens her pace. After the woman passes, he turns his attention back to his notebook. He

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-5581038073366299412008-02-25T16:00:00.001-06:002008-02-25T15:56:32.232-06:00

The large scoop carried small hills stone from the gigantic pile and laid down rows about sixty feet way. The machine rocked on its struts, rolling over the uneven stone between. The scoop loudly dug into the stone piled fifteen feet high. There was a heavy sigh as hydraulics in the scoop’s arm brought the filled bucket up and turned it vertical. The machine backed from the pile and the motor

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-54443821769249374932008-02-20T15:00:00.000-06:002008-02-20T15:46:09.649-06:00

I woke up to the bleeping alarm after hitting the snooze button for the third time. I slathered on deodorant to mask not taking a shower. I dressed, snatched a package of Pop-Tarts and was out the door with my usual haste. Tuesday and Thursday morning lectures were hard to get to and I was already a bit late. It was only the second week of class, so my truancy was still at a minimum. The walk was

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-62218480210706255412008-02-14T23:00:00.000-06:002008-02-14T22:54:04.856-06:00

The house is small, at least compared to the six-bedroom monstrosity yesterday. The yard is green in patches, but generally unkempt. The siding is stained and chipped. The windows are hazy and the gutter on the front edge of the roof hangs low on the left. The sidewalk around the back is cracked and uneven. Dave and I exit the truck. I tuck my shirt into my shorts and roll up the sleeves to my

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-78377746017353531282008-02-08T21:00:00.000-06:002008-02-08T21:29:46.144-06:00

It seems like I helped him clean his brother’s bar for years. He would wake me with roughly a half hour to dress and prepare myself before we would drive out to the next town. The sun was still on the other side of the globe. I wouldn’t see it for another few hours. At first I was too young to care much about being tired and as I grew older I would sacrifice the lack of sleep for some quality

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-79484331987589801112008-01-23T15:00:00.000-06:002008-01-23T14:49:53.748-06:00

The minivan in front of me finally pulls off to the third garage from the left. The sedan that was there when I first pulled up is still in the second stall. The break lights flash on the car in the first stall. It pulls forward and a man, slightly younger than me, in a blue jumpsuit presses a button to the left side of the door. It rolls on its track and comes off the ground until it’s a few

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-18542537546384163912008-01-09T15:00:00.000-06:002008-01-11T11:54:05.375-06:00

He’s sitting in the passenger seat, wearing his winter coat, covered in a blanket, and he still has chemical warmers in his shoes. I’m using my warmers inside my gloves as a buffer between my palms and the steering wheel. The cold is creeping up my legs from the bottoms of my shoes and through my jeans. It’s like I’m resting in an unattended bath that’s slowly losing its residual heat to a cold

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-21011517026373546382008-01-03T15:00:00.001-06:002008-01-03T14:47:49.740-06:00

The voices of the choir resonate in the vast space. The decoration is ornate and decadent. Columns of marble hoist the ceiling to the right and left, holding up the tall arch of the ceiling in the center. The walls, ceilings, and doorways are decorated with carvings of figures and words or paintings and patterns. Intricate designs are chipped from solid stone or concrete. There are gorgeous

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-38201088173597924052007-12-19T10:00:00.000-06:002007-12-19T10:01:56.639-06:00

Eeerup... Eeerup... Eeerup...Fuck! It is so damn cold. After two and a half weeks of work, I’m still not used to getting up this early. For the last four years I’d rarely rose before eight. This was the second day in a row. Still almost dark. The uniform is black, so my shirt goes on inside out—barely noticeable in my state of quasi-awareness. All I know is that I’m in no shape to face the day.

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-25080343518474370372007-12-18T12:00:00.000-06:002007-12-18T12:23:04.393-06:00

“No society has ever gotten more tolerant. They just change targets.”Is that a call for more tolerance? It seems defeatist, but realistic. Tolerance doesn’t exist. Tolerance is only the lack of motivation to act on prejudices or the fear of backlash. Acceptance should be the goal of any society, but we’ve never had that. We “tolerate” other races because most of us, the white folk, in a Christian

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-33445500164646908602007-12-13T22:00:00.000-06:002007-12-13T23:00:03.846-06:00

Before there was the worship of many gods. A god for the sun, a god for the sea, a god for the earth. The environment was respected. It was the giver of life. The elements were precious. Peoples were primitive and combative. Some sacrificed others, there was war, but they made some of the advances we take for granted today.Then there was the All-Powerful being. The gods merged to One. He was

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-17827623770383605422007-12-11T09:00:00.000-06:002007-12-11T09:12:21.062-06:00

It was almost five hours on the freeway. For hours there were monotonous lane changes, mile markers, and billboards. A river or two were crossed, an orange moose was passed and more than three hundred miles were traversed. The resorts sprang from forest nothingness a few hours in. The construction, bringing traffic to one lane for a few miles at a time, would slow things down at a different mile

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-45049034878466359642007-11-26T12:00:00.000-06:002007-11-26T12:13:01.944-06:00

It was always easy. I could create a personality depending on those around me. I could switch between them as easily as trading masks. For some I listened to country music, others heard hard rock. Sometimes I was obsessed with female conquest; other times I barely even mentioned girls. With some people I watched dramatic films with various plot lines and strong characters; with others I sat

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-6735820754327092532007-11-13T12:00:00.000-06:002007-11-13T12:05:59.210-06:00

The sun is already a half hour below the horizon. The sky’s pale blue has been replaced by blackness. The streetlights are spaced about one to a block and form yellow hazy patches on the ground beneath them. Patches of darkness and black shadows try to infiltrate those patches. The street is bare, only just recently finished after months of construction. Most of the traffic still avoids it

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-1990372654399425022007-11-12T10:00:00.000-06:002007-11-12T10:20:53.301-06:00

Surrounded by a hundred odd strangers, massive figures projected on the screen in front of me, aurally swimming in thumping noise, sharing the same perspective, the one given to me by the director, yet drawing different conclusions and opinions from anyone around. The smells of popcorn, cleansing agent, candy, and the man in front of me diffuse around me. Each stranger is reduced to a glowing

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-30674774188845084462007-11-05T00:00:00.000-06:002007-11-05T23:57:24.066-06:00

He’s sitting across the table from me. There’s a woman next to him. Her face is nondescript. He’s ogling me, as you would a sixteen ounce T-bone. It seems fitting. I’m paid handsomely as what amounts to a mobile blood bank. He pays cash to drain a pint or so every month. He has quite a few like me to keep him satisfied. I don’t know why I know that. There are more like him in the background.I got

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-63250059875338375682007-11-01T11:00:00.001-05:002007-11-01T11:00:10.723-05:00

There is no single holiday that better exemplifies our self-isolation than Halloween. I personally walk past a hundred some houses on the way to work and I know nothing of their residents. The neighbors have done nothing to introduce themselves. Their children run erratically around our house, but I have never received more than a passing nod or “hello” from any of them. There are thousands of

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-13851953391751840852007-10-30T16:00:00.000-05:002007-10-30T16:15:37.436-05:00

She’s attempting to explain something she doesn’t understand. Her rhetoric is redundant, filled with repeated key words, their meanings only partially recognized. The same points are explained more than once, a different technique each time to overcomplicate and confuse. She’s like a small child explaining politics. The simplest ideas are convoluted.I try not to laugh. It would offend her, though

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-22127877476308388832007-10-22T11:00:00.000-05:002007-10-22T11:22:27.128-05:00

She’s as beautiful as she’ll ever be. She is fit, active, and young. Her legs are smooth and toned, her lips are full, her hair is still flexible and smooth, and her breasts have yet to feel the molesting hands of gravity. Her boyfriend either worships her or hates her. She sits a couple rows behind me, listening to her iPod and reading her book. Unlike gorgeous celebrities, she is attainable,

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-57221157432185785072007-10-08T20:00:00.000-05:002007-10-11T14:01:49.036-05:00

If I were to create a hell for myself, it would be somewhat similar to this. I’m sometimes in the mood for places like this, but not tonight. I have too much on my mind and too many other things I’d rather be doing. The crowd isn’t bad, at least not compared to the last few times I’ve been here. This doesn’t mean they’re not bumping and rubbing against me as we make our way to the side bar. He’s

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-71236029381883539542007-09-27T17:00:00.000-05:002007-09-27T17:12:03.293-05:00

I’m so drunk. I remember walking back with her. It was early, still a couple hours to bar close, so I don’t know exactly why we were back. She was pretty drunk and on top of me, rocking her hips. What the hell? What had she said about her boyfriend? Studying or something? Didn’t she mention he might meet up later? How did I get it up?It’s not like we haven’t done it before. For the last three

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-86599367437343652622007-09-25T13:00:00.000-05:002007-09-25T13:17:31.623-05:00

It doesn’t hurt. I’m surprised. The puncture, filling with blood, makes me think I should be feeling pain. Maybe there aren’t any nerves there. A cut this size on my hand would cause a burning hot pain through my entire right side. Instead, I only feel a dull throbbing. A pressure like someone’s wrapped their hands around my arm, with their fingers against the inside of my forearm, and is

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-26748490420454351012007-09-19T15:00:00.000-05:002007-09-19T15:19:15.124-05:00

As tribes, we fought with as many dirty tactics as could be implemented. Civilization grew and warfare became regimented. Warriors were respected for their power and skill. Each side respected the other. There were times allotted for the battle of the day. Lines were formed, broken, and reformed, but kept a predictable rhythm. Onlookers packed picnic baskets and were entertained by the gunfire

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-19445144579720730692007-09-11T15:00:00.000-05:002007-09-19T15:23:35.279-05:00

I haven’t had a lot of time to read into the news (read: RSS feed articles) or keep up with current commentary (read: blogs) much lately. I don’t know why really, but it’s coming up on movie season and I’ve been going out a lot. (Well, guess I just solved that one.) But I found an article in the reader from back on August 16th. It’s interesting.I don’t think I can follow a diet like this one, but

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-76143362528540432492007-09-10T10:00:00.000-05:002007-09-10T10:32:06.655-05:00

I work within a department where I am the sole male. I have more female friends than male. I find them easier to deal with. Their cattiness doesn’t typically involve me and I don’t have to arm wrestle for the final slice of Lorenzo’s pizza. It works out for the most part, but there is one area that will forever baffle me.The story telling that surrounds the proposal. How he “popped the question.”

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-11206025214563258862007-08-15T20:00:00.000-05:002007-08-15T20:22:54.861-05:00

It’s catching up to me. There’s an ominous feeling. The closest thing that relates is the increased humidity and wet smell of a thunderstorm. I can’t see it like the dark clouds on the horizon, but there’s a weight to it. The haze—the only name for it I can think of—used to come quite often in high school. It was around longer then too. In college the haze came less frequently. The drink may have

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-80901178414276474402007-08-13T21:00:00.000-05:002007-08-13T20:54:26.691-05:00

Where will I be when the world around me crumbles? It’s only a matter of time before our way of life shatters around us. We can’t sustain it much longer. I don’t know what the breaking point is, but it can’t be far off. The politicians allow the corporations to run mostly everything. Conglomeration is the norm and becoming even more common. There is no end to the power these corporations feel

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-83866220199349261682007-08-06T14:00:00.000-05:002007-08-08T12:45:56.570-05:00

I can only see her feet from under the changing room door. She’s trying on jeans. We ended up here because the weather got colder than expected. With the store closing at nine-thirty, we pulled into parking at quarter after. We made it just in time. She made quick work of the selection. She had four possibles before I knew what was going on.I find myself staring at her toes as they hop in and out

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-72689404608028576962007-08-02T16:00:00.000-05:002007-08-02T16:02:28.674-05:00

As he runs by, I only catch a glimpse of his arm. I turn and see his elbow where the prosthetics attach. He has some forearm below the the elbow because he’s able to hold it at ninety degrees like his left. I haven’t been close, even in proximity, to someone with prosthetic appendages. A dozens of questions, scenarios, and visuals flood my mind.Did he lose his arm in injury? Was it lost while

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-15571440871788230502007-07-26T16:00:00.000-05:002007-07-26T15:51:51.303-05:00

I’m all for universal healthcare, but not in the United States. As a resident of those States, and an advocate for the migration to some sort of similar system, you would assume the opposite. Understandable, but the American ideal would immediately render it completely useless.To start of, I’ve seen Sicko. I’ve read the latest in op-ed pieces and vaguely know some of the statistics behind it. I

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-45184105443538398382007-07-26T11:00:00.000-05:002007-07-26T11:02:37.517-05:00

A year ago I woke up at six fifteen. I was told at five the night before when, and to which office, I was to report to work. Once there, I was handed a clipboard with a few sheets of paperwork. On top of the papers was a map. It was derived from a Mapquest best-guess set of directions and was rarely completely correct. By seven-thirty the day would begin.As the day, already in the mid-seventies,

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-64699720348112657802007-07-16T16:00:00.000-05:002007-07-16T15:42:57.842-05:00

I don’t have a good memory. This is fairly well known. I’m horrible with names. I’ve grown so accustomed to forgetting names that I sometimes don’t even try. Recently, I’ve taken steps to try and curb the trend. I’ve started trying harder to remember names of even the most insignificant of introductions in an attempt to grow into the habit of remembering the important ones.I’ve started quizzing

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-39362370092421746862007-07-10T09:00:00.000-05:002007-07-10T09:17:18.155-05:00

She’s nice. She’s too nice. Since before i can remember she’s had a genuine place in her heart for even the most tertiary of strangers. She easily becomes emotionally entangled in many decisions. She is empathetic, sympathetic, and thoughtful. She is filled with emotions and they shift quickly. She can relate to anyone feeling pain or remorse or just slightly down. Her mood tends to reflect the

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-21278848610576664772007-07-08T20:00:00.000-05:002007-07-08T20:55:26.208-05:00

as written, Thursday July fifth:You won’t read this for at least a couple days. I won’t even type it out until probably four days from now. But I miss you. I miss the feeling that I get when you’re around. I miss your conversation. I miss your smile. I miss your laugh. I miss your eyes. I miss your kisses.I’m out in the middle of nowhere and I can only think of how great it would be if you were

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-29058665574893797042007-07-02T19:00:00.000-05:002007-07-12T08:17:40.532-05:00

Perspective is at least seventy percent of reality. I personally think it’s more like ninety. We have learned to rely on our senses for reality, but they, by nature, are deceptive. But beyond just the senses there are secondary perceptions. These are based on predetermined judgments. There are many, many different examples of this, but there’s one that I’m more familiar with than the others.My

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-25518706377302313342007-06-25T15:00:00.000-05:002007-06-26T06:58:14.742-05:00

I don’t know if anyone’s said something similar already. I don’t keep up on things of this nature. But I’ve learned something in my short existence: change is sudden; maturity is gradual. Maturity is typically defined by being full grown or fully developed. This is a very broad definition applied to an even broader concept. What’s to say someone is fully developed? Physiological growth and

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-25753056506952980612007-06-18T17:00:00.000-05:002007-06-18T21:35:41.439-05:00

I don’t want to be the guy who’s with the girl because he needs her, I want to be the guy who’s with the girl because he wants her. It’s an interesting quote from one of the most poignant characters of Saved!, played by Macaulay Culkin. It’s odd how rare it is to find what he’s looking for. In my experience—which is admittedly infantile—the likelihood of finding such an arrangement is about one

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-67669643150429669222007-06-14T15:00:00.000-05:002007-06-14T15:37:36.092-05:00

She wears odd outfits. Usually shorts, with old or oddly sized t-shirts. She’s brunette with a couple tattoos showcased on her calves. She has a large yellow messenger bag that rides high on her back. To get in and out of it she loosens the strap with a pull, her hands dart around her pockets, and then she tightens it again with another swift tug. She reads sometimes. She has a couple pairs of

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-73076767484308274582007-06-11T15:00:00.000-05:002007-07-10T09:19:41.334-05:00

We live in a selfish time. Children have been groomed to take their considerations first and to have little respect for the views or existence of others. There are many places this is evident, but friendships and the somewhat intimate relationships that develop therein, are an interesting example.A friend has become more a resource than a confidant. It’s more about what a friend can do for you

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-81342121647266689622007-06-05T11:00:00.000-05:002007-06-05T11:17:07.067-05:00

I don’t have a lot going for me right now. I’m seven months into moving furniture, I have about two hundred dollars in my checking and sixty in cash the wallet. I drink more frequently than I have since before the St. Patrick’s Day, but more responsibly. And I still can’t fight the disgust I feel when people binge around me. I wonder if that will ever fade. And tonight is just another example.It’

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-2496694932048011542007-05-23T22:00:00.000-05:002007-05-25T12:52:40.439-05:00

As far as I’m concerned, the debates mean almost nothing. It is not the talking points between candidates that are relevant. It’s not even the discussion between parties. It’s how far away from their respective bases the policies have strayed that makes this campaign so interesting. It appears to be a competition for who listens less to public opinion.The Republicans have come under constant fire

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-77849087265879384962007-05-21T20:00:00.000-05:002007-05-22T14:09:20.410-05:00

I’m not a religious man; most people know this. In fact I haven’t been in any sub-Cross seating arrangement, aside from one wedding, since I walked out of my Confirmation ceremony. But I have Faith. My specific beliefs are different than most. They have some reliance on an omniscient being, but they’re based more on personal responsibility than repetition of memorized chants. I won’t bore you

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-88866015115439083202007-05-14T10:00:00.000-05:002007-05-14T16:04:19.010-05:00

Orwell wrote of three nation-states in nineteen eighty-four. I haven’t read it—though it’s on my bookshelf in ready—, but from all impressions to date this doesn’t appear to be, in any way, a good thing; except maybe for the two percent of the population in the inner party. As the U.S. is the only super power by almost all estimates—except those of the U.S., which like to put China above its

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-39167611248890708412007-05-09T23:00:00.000-05:002007-05-14T16:15:50.078-05:00

There are many movies about it, but the most recent is probably the Wachowski brothers’ V for Vendetta. They paint the picture of an oppressive government that eases it’s way into a totalitarian regime while the masses stand by unaware. Typically there is a horrible tragedy that sparks an increase in governmental controls and a decrease in a citizen’s liberties. The tragedy is sometimes caused by

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-15142546297358658062007-05-08T11:00:00.000-05:002007-05-14T16:15:18.640-05:00

I was told recently that your credit score is an important number. I agree on a certain level, but to refer to it as important gives credence to the arbitrary and manufactured. The belief that a number has any more importance than the color of your eyes generates an unrealistic ideal set. In the short time one walks this dying planet, should it be a series of numbers that defines him? Are we

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-21698541325628644172007-04-26T15:00:00.000-05:002007-05-25T13:01:00.863-05:00

I used to think they hated me. It was either that or I tested as mentally challenged and was unaware of it. Those are the only two hypotheses I could think of that explain my parents complete lack of regard for my opinion. Up until high school I got the distinct impression they were pretending I wasn’t there, or forcing—though they referred to it as suggesting—me to do things I had little

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-53298679373960699112007-04-24T12:00:00.000-05:002007-05-14T16:14:01.519-05:00

I imagine that it’s the sound of a phone book being ripped in two, or even a foghorn under water. It’s an incredibly disturbing noise considering the circumstances. It even has a mild echo across the tiled walls. I look forward, trying not to laugh out loud because I get the impression it would only encourage him. I stare at the ineffective locking mechanism of the door. With a small twist it’s

UpTheDrainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521907164644149959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3603613060525839943.post-36443179679706669692007-04-23T21:00:00.000-05:002007-05-14T16:12:59.125-05:00

I have to admit I’m slightly confused. Or more specifically, completely dumbfounded. I’ve heard about it and I’ve scanned the required reading about it throughout my time in academic situations, but something is lacking. I know the theory behind why it’s there, and I know the general rules as to how it should work.There are various forms of it being practiced on every corner of the globe. Each is

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Some would consider him a genius. This is a drastically exaggerated descriptor, but it does take a certain level of awareness to do what he’s done. He is labeled as one of the key factors in the republican dominance of this nation’s government that ended only recently. But the way he did it is not unique. It’s not original. It’s not new. In fact, it’s probably been used for millennia. It’s a

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First is young. She appears to be just below the age of drink. She has light brown hair just past her shoulders up in a mussed tie. It’s rough and exposes bits of tan scalp. She’s too tan and wears a beige tank with thick straps over a white t-shirt and jeans. She’s on her cell, an average flip that probably has a camera and multimedia features. She speaks loudly so her words ring of false import

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He’s about a block ahead of me. I’m gaining on him steadily. He walks with an exaggerated limp on his left. The foot there angles sharply and points more at his ten o clock than his intended direction. The knee looks unstable; it shakes slightly with each step. As far as I can tell he makes the walk daily. His pace is such that I come up on him quickly as he pauses to look off to his right. The

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It started with the mammoth. An animal of immense size that needed teamwork to be brought down. The teams would leave for hours or days at a time to bring back sustenance. The best hunters came home to the most prized of wives. These hunters traveled together and talked amongst themselves to find new and better ways to kill great beasts. They were powerful within the tribe and respected. Their

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The interweb is my playground. I have multiple accounts. They serve little to no purpose. I’m exposed to more media and advertising in a typical day than my father was before he was my age. I get headaches.In regards to email, I currently have three accounts with Google, one with Hotmail, and one with Yahoo. I have one for both Creatis and Meet Minneapolis. I have one through school. I used to

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Their internal monologues are almost loud enough to hear. There’s an entire queue of them. "Where did this asshole learn to drive?;" "Why the hell is that dick in this lane?;" "Get the fuck out of my way, douchebag!"I sit behind the wheel and feel their rage like a warm blanket. I drive through it as I would a tuft of their cigarette smoke. My mood shifts to irate before I can adjust. I’m on the

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Her hand grasped lightly at the ceiling. Or more specifically, the grid of light boards that made up the suspended ceiling. The grid concealed a network of cables, pipes and other utility devices, but whether the slivers could support weight was in question. Especially unstable, intoxicated mass set in motion by gyrating hips. Her mouth was agape and the uncertainty was evident across her brow.

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