E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. Sienko Foundation Storyteller Musings Solotarian Views Lynne Wiora Tek Poker News Blog Some Biscuits Evil Eye Emporium Niggling Doubts Pressure Release Sara as Mommy runswithscissors Defective Yeti Afternoon Delight trancejen The Terrarium Bird Nird Slipperily Tofu Hut Stereo Gum Links Fixed Gear Gallery Get Crafty This is Grand Featherproof Books Gapers Block Chicago Bird Watching	No one must know my terrible secret... House of Noh! Saturday, April 20, 2002 All the organic gardeners were out at the community plots today. They just got in a shipment of manure and all the organic gardeners were all happy with their wheelbarrows full of horse terds and mixing it into their soil and crap. I just quietly toiled in my plot 39 and glared at all of them. I don’t know what the big deal is. I mean, I’ve been bringing my own manure in a cardboard shoebox ever since I got my plot. I think you have to be crazy to put some dirty animal’s poop in your garden that you plan on eating vegetables out of – I bet those same gardeners flush their own perfectly good feces down the toilet! Their hypocrisy makes me sick! I see the looks that the other organic gardeners give me when they walk past. They don’t think that I’m a good enough gardener. They doubt my controversial and cutting-edge methods. Well, today I lifted up some of the hay over part of my spinach and lettuce crops and I saw a bunch of little seedlings starting to emerge. In two weeks I’ll have enough cuttings and thinnings to make a salad. I plan on eating a big bowl of my salad while I’m standing in my garden plot so that all those haughty old organic gardeners can see. I’ll be like “Mmm! This is fucking good organic salad that I grew myself!” And they'll be like, "Aren't those stingin nettles in your salad?" And I'll be like, "My mouth is fucking on fire with the pain of stinging nettles!" but I'll only be thinking that on the inside. One the outside I'll play it cool and be like "No!" And they’ll be like, “We doubted your cutting-edge organic gardening methods but we can’t argue with success!” And I’ll be like, “Fuckin’ A!” And then those old organic gardeners will be like, “This experience has forced us to re-evaluate our preconceived notions of younger organic gardeners, even those with blotchy tattoos on their upper arms!” Brian 2:18 AM Sunday, April 14, 2002 Well, I knew that it would happen, eventually. I was down at my organic garden plot the other day and some old gardener dudes started getting in my shit. I mean, don’t think that I haven’t noticed the other organic gardeners rolling their eyes and making faces at me behind my back. And don’t think that I haven’t heard them talking about me. I hear them saying stuff like I’m working the soil too soon and compacting the soil in my garden plot, you know, really HURTFUL organic gardening stuff. Near as I can tell, though, this whole thing is like the old ways versus the new ways, like Fiddler on the Roof. See, I’m like the young gardening rebel, I’m Fonzie in a straw hat with a big floppy brim so that Fonzie doesn’t get skin cancer when he’s an old stodgy bastard persecuting other young organic gardeners. Sure, my methods are controversial, but they are the new, inspired organic gardening ways. For instance, sure some of my soil is compacted, but, I WANT that soil to be compacted, and when my garden plot gets all dry and craggy like a horrible desert, I WANT it to be all dry and craggy. Besides, I’ve got half of a packet of “Stinging Nettle” seeds and I’m going to plant them in the garden plot belonging to the gardener that’s the biggest jerk to me. I saw “Stinging Nettles” in the seed catalog and couldn’t resist ordering them. Who could? I planted some in my garden too but now I can’t remember what I planted where. In other news, I’ve decided to go ahead with my next big self-tattooing project. I’m making the needle bars for it tonight. I’ve will title it “big permanent blue blotch on my upper arm,” and it will be my MASTERPIECE. Brian 7:13 PM Sunday, April 07, 2002 Have you ever seen that television show MIRACLE PETS, hosted by Alan Thicke? For those in my viewing area, it’s on at 11:00 every Monday. MIRACLE PETS is Mr. Kitty’s and my very favorite show. I race home from class every Monday so that Mr. Kitty can sit in my lap and breath his stinky cat breath in my face and we can watch MIRACLE PETS together. Just last Monday Mr. Kitty and I watched Scooter the crime fighting pig defend his owner by biting the tibia of a gun-toting petty footpad in half. It was so touching that tears streamed down both my and Mr. Kitty’s face. When Mr. Kitty and I watched Mr. Peepers the scarlet macaw save an elderly couple from a house-fire by alerting rescuers to their location, Mr. Kitty and I got so emotional that we had to hold each other. So I was watching MIRACLE PETS with Mr. Kitty for about three months and I started to look at Mr. Kitty sitting there and I began to wonder “where’s my miracle?” The other day when I had that kitchen fire and burned my hand Mr. Kitty sat there on the counter the whole time just looking at me. He didn’t even lift one cat toe to help me! I mean, Mr. Kitty SHOULD be Miracle Pet material, I rescued him from the streets of Quincy and took care of his various health problems and so now I’m thinking that I’m ready for my miracle. And not a crappy miracle either. I was expecting him to sniff out a treasure trove of old gold coins or donate bone marrow to me or something. Well, the other day, I’m happy to report, Mr. Kitty became, truly, a miracle pet. It all happened a few days ago. I was driving with Mr. Kitty in the car and stopped off at a bar for a quick drink and left Mr. Kitty in the car. By coincidence I met some friends there and had a few more drinks and before I knew it I was fucking drunk as shit. I mean, BLIND DRUNK. The last thing that I remember of that night was actually in the bar. But the next morning I woke up in my bed, reeking of booze and with all my clothes on. Mr. Kitty was sitting on top of me breathing his stinky cat breath into my face and I looked out the window and my car was parked, a little crooked, but parked in the parking lot. I couldn’t have driven home that night because I was way too drunk! There’s only one explanation for it. Mr. Kitty took my keys from me and drove me home. That’s what I call a miracle pet!! Brian 9:59 PM Tuesday, April 02, 2002 Well, that cinches it. I can no longer rent movies in the Champaign/Urbana area. It's not like I'm banned from the rental places for masturbating in the dirty room or something. Rather, I can no longer rent movies because I hereby, of my own volition, make my vow that I will no longer give the movie rental places in Champaign/Urbana my business. I'd formerly made that vow about every rental place except for this last one that I've been going to for about six months as my last resort - it's that "Olde Tyme Movie Rental" over on the wrong side of the tracks in the same mini-mall as "PayDay Loans" and right between the "Discount Crack Outlet" store and "Low End Whores." It's after the unfortunate spectacle that ensued today at the Olde Tyme Movie rental service counter that I make this vow. So what if I turned a copy of "Deliverance" in six days late! And don't they understand that when they call and bug me about it every day it makes me want to return their stupid movie even LESS?! Don't they understand that movie rental return dates are like this box, and making me return my movie by that date is like, putting me in that box? Well, I can't be put in a box, it's not, like, who I AM! And then, the movie rental employees got all up in my face and started shouting about how it's NOT illegal to charge me late fees, and how I CAN'T rewind a videotape just by shaking it really hard!! The nerve!! The manager even said, flat-out, that he DOUBTED that the ACLU would take my case against them. I'm putting them all on my list. Brian 12:04 PM

E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com

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House of Noh!

Saturday, April 20, 2002

All the organic gardeners were out at the community plots today. They just got in a shipment of manure and all the organic gardeners were all happy with their wheelbarrows full of horse terds and mixing it into their soil and crap. I just quietly toiled in my plot 39 and glared at all of them. I don’t know what the big deal is. I mean, I’ve been bringing my own manure in a cardboard shoebox ever since I got my plot. I think you have to be crazy to put some dirty animal’s poop in your garden that you plan on eating vegetables out of – I bet those same gardeners flush their own perfectly good feces down the toilet! Their hypocrisy makes me sick! I see the looks that the other organic gardeners give me when they walk past. They don’t think that I’m a good enough gardener. They doubt my controversial and cutting-edge methods. Well, today I lifted up some of the hay over part of my spinach and lettuce crops and I saw a bunch of little seedlings starting to emerge. In two weeks I’ll have enough cuttings and thinnings to make a salad. I plan on eating a big bowl of my salad while I’m standing in my garden plot so that all those haughty old organic gardeners can see. I’ll be like “Mmm! This is fucking good organic salad that I grew myself!” And they'll be like, "Aren't those stingin nettles in your salad?" And I'll be like, "My mouth is fucking on fire with the pain of stinging nettles!" but I'll only be thinking that on the inside. One the outside I'll play it cool and be like "No!" And they’ll be like, “We doubted your cutting-edge organic gardening methods but we can’t argue with success!” And I’ll be like, “Fuckin’ A!” And then those old organic gardeners will be like, “This experience has forced us to re-evaluate our preconceived notions of younger organic gardeners, even those with blotchy tattoos on their upper arms!”

Brian 2:18 AM

Sunday, April 14, 2002

Well, I knew that it would happen, eventually. I was down at my organic garden plot the other day and some old gardener dudes started getting in my shit. I mean, don’t think that I haven’t noticed the other organic gardeners rolling their eyes and making faces at me behind my back. And don’t think that I haven’t heard them talking about me. I hear them saying stuff like I’m working the soil too soon and compacting the soil in my garden plot, you know, really HURTFUL organic gardening stuff. Near as I can tell, though, this whole thing is like the old ways versus the new ways, like Fiddler on the Roof. See, I’m like the young gardening rebel, I’m Fonzie in a straw hat with a big floppy brim so that Fonzie doesn’t get skin cancer when he’s an old stodgy bastard persecuting other young organic gardeners. Sure, my methods are controversial, but they are the new, inspired organic gardening ways. For instance, sure some of my soil is compacted, but, I WANT that soil to be compacted, and when my garden plot gets all dry and craggy like a horrible desert, I WANT it to be all dry and craggy. Besides, I’ve got half of a packet of “Stinging Nettle” seeds and I’m going to plant them in the garden plot belonging to the gardener that’s the biggest jerk to me. I saw “Stinging Nettles” in the seed catalog and couldn’t resist ordering them. Who could? I planted some in my garden too but now I can’t remember what I planted where. In other news, I’ve decided to go ahead with my next big self-tattooing project. I’m making the needle bars for it tonight. I’ve will title it “big permanent blue blotch on my upper arm,” and it will be my MASTERPIECE.

Brian 7:13 PM

Sunday, April 07, 2002

Have you ever seen that television show MIRACLE PETS, hosted by Alan Thicke? For those in my viewing area, it’s on at 11:00 every Monday. MIRACLE PETS is Mr. Kitty’s and my very favorite show. I race home from class every Monday so that Mr. Kitty can sit in my lap and breath his stinky cat breath in my face and we can watch MIRACLE PETS together. Just last Monday Mr. Kitty and I watched Scooter the crime fighting pig defend his owner by biting the tibia of a gun-toting petty footpad in half. It was so touching that tears streamed down both my and Mr. Kitty’s face. When Mr. Kitty and I watched Mr. Peepers the scarlet macaw save an elderly couple from a house-fire by alerting rescuers to their location, Mr. Kitty and I got so emotional that we had to hold each other. So I was watching MIRACLE PETS with Mr. Kitty for about three months and I started to look at Mr. Kitty sitting there and I began to wonder “where’s my miracle?” The other day when I had that kitchen fire and burned my hand Mr. Kitty sat there on the counter the whole time just looking at me. He didn’t even lift one cat toe to help me! I mean, Mr. Kitty SHOULD be Miracle Pet material, I rescued him from the streets of Quincy and took care of his various health problems and so now I’m thinking that I’m ready for my miracle. And not a crappy miracle either. I was expecting him to sniff out a treasure trove of old gold coins or donate bone marrow to me or something. Well, the other day, I’m happy to report, Mr. Kitty became, truly, a miracle pet. It all happened a few days ago. I was driving with Mr. Kitty in the car and stopped off at a bar for a quick drink and left Mr. Kitty in the car. By coincidence I met some friends there and had a few more drinks and before I knew it I was fucking drunk as shit. I mean, BLIND DRUNK. The last thing that I remember of that night was actually in the bar. But the next morning I woke up in my bed, reeking of booze and with all my clothes on. Mr. Kitty was sitting on top of me breathing his stinky cat breath into my face and I looked out the window and my car was parked, a little crooked, but parked in the parking lot. I couldn’t have driven home that night because I was way too drunk! There’s only one explanation for it. Mr. Kitty took my keys from me and drove me home. That’s what I call a miracle pet!!

Brian 9:59 PM

Tuesday, April 02, 2002

Well, that cinches it. I can no longer rent movies in the Champaign/Urbana area. It's not like I'm banned from the rental places for masturbating in the dirty room or something. Rather, I can no longer rent movies because I hereby, of my own volition, make my vow that I will no longer give the movie rental places in Champaign/Urbana my business. I'd formerly made that vow about every rental place except for this last one that I've been going to for about six months as my last resort - it's that "Olde Tyme Movie Rental" over on the wrong side of the tracks in the same mini-mall as "PayDay Loans" and right between the "Discount Crack Outlet" store and "Low End Whores." It's after the unfortunate spectacle that ensued today at the Olde Tyme Movie rental service counter that I make this vow. So what if I turned a copy of "Deliverance" in six days late! And don't they understand that when they call and bug me about it every day it makes me want to return their stupid movie even LESS?! Don't they understand that movie rental return dates are like this box, and making me return my movie by that date is like, putting me in that box? Well, I can't be put in a box, it's not, like, who I AM! And then, the movie rental employees got all up in my face and started shouting about how it's NOT illegal to charge me late fees, and how I CAN'T rewind a videotape just by shaking it really hard!! The nerve!! The manager even said, flat-out, that he DOUBTED that the ACLU would take my case against them. I'm putting them all on my list.

Brian 12:04 PM

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