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! Monday, January 03, 2005 Did I tell you that I moved again? That last place I wrote about, the place with the third floor stairway landing / balcony (see July 18, 2004 entry) - that place was like, SO summer 2004. Wait a minute! Of course I told you I moved: truck stop toilet!! My new place has a balcony too. An even higher one. This is the best balcony ever. From it I can see the fully glory of the two “cheater spikes” on top of the Sears Tower, the lesser glory of the two copy-cat cheater spikes on the Hancock building, a structure known for being often confused with the Sears Tower and for harboring some trippy rabbit statutes and a “cheesecake factory” where I guess they make cheesecake too but, contrary to the name of the establishment, is also a restaurant that I’ve heard has a really great mushroom sandwich but have never tried because I can’t enter that dungeon. I tried once but I got this terrible flashback to my youth - to the often reminisced of “Orc’s Gold” D&D campaign. Once deep within that terrible cheesecake dungeon I’m afraid I’d become again the lawful good, level three paladin named “Argoth” I played, grab a fork (+2 against human wait-staff), roll for initiative and begin a melee. In the realm of Chicago you can get 5-10 years for fork stabbing. That’s why I steer clear of the cheesecake dungeon, no matter what treasures might be held within. Lo, I’ve toured the Cook County jail and it appears that, even with the assistance of friendly dragons, it would be considerably more difficult to break out of than the holding cell at Baron Mortuenot’s Forest Keep. It’s a lamentable waste, because if I could pull off being a Romeo and Juliet, romantic kind of character, my balcony would be perfect for that. A good example would be this last New Years’ Eve, throwing open my balcony door to stride out and rest my hands on the railing, throwing back my head and breathing deeply of the night air, immodestly attired in crotchless panties and a belly-T. Bum: (rustling around in the dumpster below my balcony in the alley) Me: What man art though that, thus be screen’d in the night, so stumblest on my counsel? Bum: (looking up) Wha?!? Me: My ears have yet not drunk of hundred words of that tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound; art though not Romeo, and a Montague? Bum: Give me a dollar! Me: (clutching hands together at bosom) By whose direction found’st out this place? Bum: GIVE ME A DOLLAR! Me: O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Bum: Are you going to give me a dollar? Me: An imaginary dollar? Bum: (turns back to rustling through dumpster) [unintelligible] Me: What was that? Bum: [unintelligible] Me: (indignant, shouting) DOST THOU BITE THY THUMB AT ME!?! Unfortunately, no such scene ever transpired. I guess I’ll never be able to achieve that kind of great romantic character. It’s coarse and boorish stuff, this material I am made of. The best use I can make of such a great porch / balcony on a New Years’ Eve is to do my part in making sure people have realistic expectations for the new year. It’s a public service kind of thing, you know. I start at about 11:45, just when people start coming out in the streets and I keep shouting till early morning. EVERYBODY SHUUUTTTT UUPPPPPP!!! STOP CELEBRATING!!! YOU THERE, YEAH YOU… GO FUCK YOURSELF!! STOOPPPP CELEBRATINGGG!!! SHUT UP!!! STOP!! CELEBRATING!! Brian 1:15 AM Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Monday, January 03, 2005

Did I tell you that I moved again? That last place I wrote about, the place with the third floor stairway landing / balcony (see July 18, 2004 entry) - that place was like, SO summer 2004. Wait a minute! Of course I told you I moved: truck stop toilet!! My new place has a balcony too. An even higher one. This is the best balcony ever. From it I can see the fully glory of the two “cheater spikes” on top of the Sears Tower, the lesser glory of the two copy-cat cheater spikes on the Hancock building, a structure known for being often confused with the Sears Tower and for harboring some trippy rabbit statutes and a “cheesecake factory” where I guess they make cheesecake too but, contrary to the name of the establishment, is also a restaurant that I’ve heard has a really great mushroom sandwich but have never tried because I can’t enter that dungeon. I tried once but I got this terrible flashback to my youth - to the often reminisced of “Orc’s Gold” D&D campaign. Once deep within that terrible cheesecake dungeon I’m afraid I’d become again the lawful good, level three paladin named “Argoth” I played, grab a fork (+2 against human wait-staff), roll for initiative and begin a melee. In the realm of Chicago you can get 5-10 years for fork stabbing. That’s why I steer clear of the cheesecake dungeon, no matter what treasures might be held within. Lo, I’ve toured the Cook County jail and it appears that, even with the assistance of friendly dragons, it would be considerably more difficult to break out of than the holding cell at Baron Mortuenot’s Forest Keep. It’s a lamentable waste, because if I could pull off being a Romeo and Juliet, romantic kind of character, my balcony would be perfect for that. A good example would be this last New Years’ Eve, throwing open my balcony door to stride out and rest my hands on the railing, throwing back my head and breathing deeply of the night air, immodestly attired in crotchless panties and a belly-T. Bum: (rustling around in the dumpster below my balcony in the alley) Me: What man art though that, thus be screen’d in the night, so stumblest on my counsel? Bum: (looking up) Wha?!? Me: My ears have yet not drunk of hundred words of that tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound; art though not Romeo, and a Montague? Bum: Give me a dollar! Me: (clutching hands together at bosom) By whose direction found’st out this place? Bum: GIVE ME A DOLLAR! Me: O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Bum: Are you going to give me a dollar? Me: An imaginary dollar? Bum: (turns back to rustling through dumpster) [unintelligible] Me: What was that? Bum: [unintelligible] Me: (indignant, shouting) DOST THOU BITE THY THUMB AT ME!?! Unfortunately, no such scene ever transpired. I guess I’ll never be able to achieve that kind of great romantic character. It’s coarse and boorish stuff, this material I am made of. The best use I can make of such a great porch / balcony on a New Years’ Eve is to do my part in making sure people have realistic expectations for the new year. It’s a public service kind of thing, you know. I start at about 11:45, just when people start coming out in the streets and I keep shouting till early morning. EVERYBODY SHUUUTTTT UUPPPPPP!!! STOP CELEBRATING!!! YOU THERE, YEAH YOU… GO FUCK YOURSELF!! STOOPPPP CELEBRATINGGG!!! SHUT UP!!! STOP!! CELEBRATING!!

Brian 1:15 AM

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House of Noh!

Monday, January 03, 2005