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Monday, January 31, 2005

You remember how my neighbors across the hall in my apartment building were staging elaborate plays outside their doorway in the hallway for me to watch through my peephole? Well, unfortunately, showings have become more and more infrequent. Sometimes I hear them, inside their apartment, shouting or laughing about something, but even with my ear pressed up against the wall we share I can hardly make out what they’re saying. Lamentably, I’m starting to lose interest in their lives. Don’t think I haven’t asked myself how this all came about. Then I realized. They were sick of coming up with new ideas, practicing their lines, getting into costume, if I wasn’t ever going to reciprocate and put a show on for them. In my defense, I’m still not really used to living in apartment buildings. But what I should have been doing, all along, was to be putting on apartment hall plays of my own that my neighbors could watch through their peephole. So I’ve performed two plays over the last few days. The first one I titled, “Painfully Unaware of How Much Butt-Crack I was Showing.” This one involved me watering my plant in the hallway. I also performed the thriller, “I Just Almost Crapped in My Pants!” It’s no use. My neighbors haven’t resumed their play schedule. I don’t blame them because, I have to admit, my one person plays aren’t as compelling as theirs are, with their multiple characters and dialogue and everything. But at least now I’m CONTRIBUTING TO SOCIETY with my one person plays. Toward that end, I’ve begun drafting two person plays such as the one I’m pasting in here, it includes two characters, a man and woman who are presumably a couple.

I Want To Go to Taco Bell

an apartment hallway play by Brian Morris

(Apartment doorway opens, man walks outside two steps and turns toward woman who exits door then turns to lock it. Both are dressed semi-formally.) Woman: (locking door) Can we stop at Taco Bell? Man: We’re already late, they’ll probably have snacks there. Woman: (having finished locking door, turning toward man) Do you KNOW they’ll have snacks….good ones? Man: Probably. Woman: I can’t take the chance they won’t have good snacks you douche-bag! Man: O.K., let’s go! Woman: Go to Taco Bell? Man: No, we’re too late. Woman: I want a 7 layer burrito you douche bag! Man: (irritated) You know, someday you’re going to call the wrong person a “douche-bag…” Woman: That day’s not today. Douche-bag! Man: …You’ll just disappear one day. Nobody will know what happened to you and it’ll be a big mystery but I‘ll know what happened to you: you will have called the wrong person a douche-bag! Woman: Oh, yeah? Well, I think that you might die TONIGHT, and an autopsy performed on your mangled corpse will confirm the absence of Taco Bell in your stomach and small intestines. Man: I don’t think that even makes any sense. Woman: It makes sense to me you douce-bag. Man: (sternly) Will you PLEASE stop calling my a douce-bag? (Man and Woman exiting peephole view right by walking down stairs together) Woman: (from out of view) I only wish I could stop, douche-bag!

Brian 10:52 PM (0) comments

Thursday, January 27, 2005

You know that dude birds don’t have wangs, right? Yeah, that’s why unless there is gender dimorphism or whatever, it’s so hard to tell the chick birds from the dude birds. Birds don’t even have gonad holes. They just have multi-purpose butt holes - holes they poop, whiz and copulate with, these are called “cloacae.” So this is how birds do it: sometimes there’s displays or whatever, but when it’s time to get down to business the dude bird flies up on top of the chick bird. Then, while still sort of flying and beating his wings, the dude sort of tips his tail down to one side of the chick bird’s tail, and the chick bird tips her tail up and they touch cloacas in a tender cloacal kiss, during which the dude bird sprays his stuff out of his cloaca into (if he’s on target, that is) the chick bird’s cloaca. And in a tale as old as time, once again the miracle of life begins anew! You’ve probably seen this happen lots of times, whether you knew the birds were doing it or not, especially in the spring. Those horny bastards -birds are shameless!! And if you’ve ever hung out with birdwatchers, you’ll know that whenever birds start getting it on, all the birders count out loud in unison for the duration of the cloacal kiss. If you ask somebody who’s been birding for any amount of time they’ll probably be able to give you some sort of explanation for why birders count out loud together while birds are getting their groove on. And the old timer birder’s explanation will probably make sense. But here’s the real reason why birders count: Years ago, birdwatchers watched birds bump cloaca, each alone with his or her own thoughts. Unfortunately, there seemed always to be some person in the group who just got way too into it. Everybody would just be watching the perfect, natural, miracle of nature of bird love, but then that person, (usually the creepy guy of the bunch) would start shouting stuff like, “Yeah! Give it to her! That’s right! Ungh! Take it! Ungh! UNGH!” and sometimes even accompany the performance with wild, toe-standing / calf straining, pelvic thrusts up into the air. It really made a lot of people uncomfortable. Among birdwatchers there have always been birdwatcher ladies and gentlemen in the true sense of the distinction, philosopher kings and poet warriors - it was probably one of these noble bird watchers who first suggested counting the seconds that elapsed during bird coitus as a way of pre-empting the comments of the creepy dude of the bunch. It caught on, of course - nobody is uncomfortable anymore. That’s the real reason birdwatchers don’t just enjoy the brief moment of hot, wild bird love silently. So anyway, about these cloaca - that’s where eggs come out of, of course. That’s why some eggs at the store sometimes have chicken poop on them. Sometimes, when the world seems so senselessly sad and cruel and meaningless to me, I think about this and realize that everything does make sense, in the end.

Brian 3:11 AM (1) comments

Saturday, January 22, 2005

I think that if I could just get a rough idea about how much wax was in my left ear it wouldn’t concern me so much. The good news is that I just got what looks like a semi-translucent popcorn kernel husk out my ear. If I was in the oil drilling business, I would say that I “recovered” that popcorn kernel, even though I had nothing to do with it getting there in the first place. Ear candles you say? Don’t get me started! Yes, I do sniff dirty Q-tips when I pull them out of my ear. And about that popcorn kernel - it doesn’t smell like normal ear wax… more like a pencil point, fresh out of a sharpener. It goes to show what kind of great things you can experience if you have an open mind about smelling new things. I’m serious. This popcorn kernel smells really good.

Brian 1:35 AM (0) comments

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Have been talking a lot about astral travel of late. It’s nice to be able to; I’ve learned to be careful with whom I discuss this topic with. You’ve got to be the right “type” of person. Otherwise I find I’ve exposed myself to ridicule and scorn. Astral haters! The “type” I can discuss astral travel is of course somebody who’ll plant a row of corn in the spring and as it grows like just a millimeter or whatever a day, jump over it every morning so that by the end of the summer when the row of corn is fully grown he or she can jump six feet in the air straight up. Or somebody who’ll eat her disposable contact lenses instead of throwing them away. But what I haven’t been talking about lately are the TERRIBLE DANGERS involved in astral travel. It’s a burden that’s been weighing on me. The danger? Possession. It’s the same principle involved when you buy a bagel and some coffee at an Einstein Bagel shop, set it down at a table, go to the bathroom and return to find a guy halfway done eating your bagel and drinking your coffee. Post awkward confrontation, you don’t have to worry about that coffee and bagel at the next table, unattended, and whether or not you had the wrong table when you came back from the bathroom - not when you return from astral travel to find some other-dimension creature inhabiting your body. You’re not going to get confused about which body is yours, I mean, it’s you. But I’ll tell you another thing, and this is why I don’t always mention the risk of possession, it’s a LOT easier to astral travel when you aren’t worried about possession. Here’s the bottom line: is it worth the risk of possession to astral travel twenty-four hours into the future and read the winning lottery numbers off the newspaper some business dude is reading in the park so you can come back to your body, wake up, then go out and buy the winning tickets before the drawing? I say it is.

Brian 3:11 AM (0) comments

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

You know I’m into herbs, right? That’s how I know that there’s a lot of misinformation out there surrounding the proper use of medicinal herbs. What’s worse, the people who work in those stores that sell bulk herbs usually don’t even know how to use them effectively, or, at best, they’ve just read like some dumb books or something. And if you’re buying your herbal products over the internet, like from an e-mail you got, or from some ad in the back of a porno magazine or something, you know you can’t trust the seller for good herb information! Well, now you can check the seller’s herbalism claims here. I’ve spent years experimenting with and reading about herbalism and I’ve typed out for you a lexicon below listing a few popular herbs and what they’re properly used for: Juniper: This is the plant that gives gin its characteristic taste, and also is the cause of “gin madness,” which people get if they drink gin on a regular basis over a period of time. Gin madness makes people just a little bit weird - almost not weird enough not to notice, that is, if you didn’t know about gin madness. Tibetans burned this plant to fumigate burial shrines as part of a ritual purification. A tincture of the berries applied topically can be used to enlarge your penis. Pau d’ arco: For hundreds of years, South American herbalists have used the inner bark of this Amazonian tree to treat a variety of ailments. There was even some scientific trials testing pau d’ arco as a immune system strengthener to combat cancer but the side effects were considered too severe. Some herbalists maintain that this herb, brewed into a tea and drank in small quantities, will enhance male performance and make guys’ penises bigger. Yohimbe: The main ingredient in “Super Cum pills,” yohimbe is considered by many internet herbalists to be a “powerhouse” herb. Caution should be exercised in the use of yohimbe because it increases blood pressure. Yohimbe is a nootropic drug, which means that it makes people more mentally active. It’s also a common ingredient in products used to enhance male virility. Yohimbe has the added benefit of enlargening the user’s penis. Sage: That’s right, a kitchen herb! According to Greek legend, the medicinal benefits of sage were discovered by the hero Cadmus. Most people just gargle sage in water. Some people say a sage rinse will help control lice. Modern internet herbalists however agree that as a compress or salve applied overnight, sage may be used to make guys’ wangs bigger. Sweet brier: High in vitamin C, sweet brier is used heavily in Middle Eastern foods as well in the creation of perfumes. This herb also goes by the name “rose hips” and can be eaten raw as a dewormer. If you’re a dude and want a bigger weiner, try a smoothy that includes this herb! Milk Thistle: Years ago, the use of this herb was a common method to stimulate the spleen and also was a household remedy for bad digestion. The active ingredient in this herb is not easily digested and best absorbed through the skin. This means that if you’re gonna use the small fruits the plant produces as a penis enlargement agent, you’re going to have to rub them on it.

Brian 10:39 PM (0) comments

You know how, to protect people’s anonymity on this page, I usually refer to them as [first name] [last initial]? I’m not going to be able to follow that format for this entry. That’s because it’s not enough protection for what I’m about to disclose about somebody - let’s call her “X.” I’m about to disclose X’s terrible weakness. Ironically, I wouldn’t have ever even noticed her terrible weaknesses had X not always been asking me what other people’s weaknesses were. That’s how come I was paying attention to weaknesses and was able to identify hers. This is how it used to work when we’d talk about people’s weaknesses: I’d be describing some half-assed plan I had that might involve somebody I know. For background information, X would ask, “what’s their weakness?” Then I’d get all clinical psychologist and go into a long-winded discussion about how, for instance, I think Y's or Z’s weakness might originate in some deep part of their mind that has come to believe somehow that Y or Z is only capable of certain things, so that even though Y or Z has loads of talent and is really gifted, when Y or Z is confronted with a situation that might make him or her feel more successful than they feel they should be, they subconsciously sabotage it - all sorts of crap like that. X would pretend to listen politely, then she’d be like, “I mean, does Z or Y really like chocolate bars or beer or something?” Now that I understand what X means I can identify people’s weakness for her when she asks just by shouting a few words, like “sunflower seeds!” or “cough syrup” or “cashmere!” or “muscle cars!” or “big boobs!” or “crazy pimp hats” or “video games!” I probably don’t need to tell you which of these is MY terrible weakness. That’s right - crazy pimp hats!! I think I might get the pimp hat thing from my great grandma. My great grandma used to run with moonshiners named things like “Lucky” and “Lefty.” My grandma told me that my great grandma would take all the money the family had for a month to buy food and buy a big fancy hat with it that came in a big round cardboard hat box. Then my Grandma and her siblings would have to eat stolen cabbage cooked only in lard and a little mercury tainted fatty fish meat (if they were lucky!) for a whole month. Enough introduction! Here’s X’s terrible weakness: those empanadas they sell under the warmer on the counter at the Mercado on the corner of Southport and Grace. On a cold winter day you can see if they have any left by pushing your nose up against the street window and peering inside. X can’t resist them! Even after she eats one - I’m talking like fifteen minutes later - she’s still making this noise “MmmMMM” “mmmMMMMmmm” “MmmmmmMMMMmm” like a tiny little Frankenstein and won’t respond to anything I say. X will keep doing that until I can distract her with something else.

Brian 1:35 AM (0) comments

Thursday, January 06, 2005

A difficult day today: 8:48am - mixed too much sea salt into my neti wash. Oh how it STINGS! 9:24am - ripped favorite pair of pants attempting to leap into them both legs at a time and thus prove that I am no ordinary man who would put his pants on one leg at a time like all other ordinary men 10:57am - bit inside of lip while chewing 1:23pm - out walking on an errand and slipped and fell and got all wet and cold in a pile of slushy snow. Note to stupid woman wearing dumb fuzzy hat and walking that silly dog: if you want people to think that you care, don’t laugh while asking them if they are okay. 5:34pm - heated argument regarding lumber prices with Carlos (not skilled at diplomacy, this Carlos is) at the local hardware store, angrily marched out of store while announcing to other hardware shoppers that I was going to walk to Home Depot for their “vastly superior prices” 6:21pm - discovered that identical pieces of lumber at Home Depot are more expensive 6:25pm - inadvertently reenacted that Three Stooges move where you swing long boards around and wreak havoc at checkout. Home Depot employees and patrons not amused. The very worst part about today happened around early afternoon as I was walking past that nursing home on Diversey. There was this really old woman pulling a shaky old man out the front door of the building. She must have been in a hurry or something. It was really sunny and all the fresh snow on the ground made it really bright outside. The woman was pulling this guy along by one hand but I think it was so bright the guy needed time for his eyes to adjust. The light didn’t bother the woman, for whatever reason. She kept trying to pull the guy down the icy, slippery stairs. The guy tried to stand there for a bit, just outside the door, but the woman kept pulling and he started screaming to his wife (or whoever she was), “I can’t see! I can’t see!” But the woman didn’t care, she turned back to him, and with a really cross voice hissed “Shut-up! You can see just fine!” and kept trying to pull him down the stairs. The old guy desperately waved his free hand around until he was able to find and grab the railing. He held on with that hand while the woman tried to pull him down the stairs by his other. “I’m blind! I’m going to fall! I can’t see! I’m blind!” he kept shouting. The woman kept shouting back at him stuff like, “don’t you lie to me you pathetic bastard, you can see just fine! You’re about as blind as I am! You’re a lying son of a bitch!” and really mean stuff like that. What’s worse, there was a second old woman there too. I think she was friends with the first old woman. The three of them must travel together. When the old guy finally stopped their progress by grabbing onto that railing, the second old woman stopped halfway down the stairs and stood there, looking back at the old man and backing up all the mean stuff the first old woman said. The second woman saying stuff like, “Is he lying again, Edna? He is pathetic, that’s for sure. Son of a bitch, that’s right on!” The way both those old women were talking about that old guy, like he was some worthless dog who kept crapping inside or something, it really made me mad… those two old women were being bullies. It all made me want to run over to that second woman, slap those big terminator glasses old people wear off her face and that knit beanie off her head and start bumping my chest into her shriveled old one and shout, “You like it two against one!? You like it that way?! How about a fair fight!?! Just you and me!?! Bring it! Bring it, you old bitch!” But don’t worry, I didn’t.

Brian 10:28 PM (0) comments

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

“I got abducted by aliens.” “I’m worried about getting abducted by aliens.” “I covered the inside of my windows with tin-foil to protect myself from alien mind-control technology.” Each of these statements begs the question: what KIND of aliens? There are currently two different types of extraterrestrials visiting the earth (on this dimension) in large numbers. First, there are GREY aliens. These have the big heads / eyes, skinny bodies and legs. These are the most commonly portrayed aliens because they do most of the abducting and butt probing. Second, there are the BROWN aliens. Sometimes BROWN aliens help people, and they are generally considered benign. But their motivations don’t mesh well with human sympathies and, while they generally don’t cause any trouble, they often don’t help even when it seems to us humans that such help would be both really helpful and super easy for them to give. Even if you don’t get a look at your extraterrestrial captors, you can get a pretty good idea of what type abducted you based on what happened to you during the abduction. If you get something stuck up your butt and you weren’t into it, it was probably the GREYS. But if you are pleasantly surprised to find that you had a dental cavity filled for free even though you don’t have dental insurance, it was probably the BROWNS. If you get your brain scanned and everybody is making fun of your secret thoughts the next day at work, that was probably the GREYS. If you had some semen stolen…well, this one is a toss-up, both GREYS and BROWNS require human semen. You know how (I’ve heard) you can sell your semen to human semen organizations, and they’ve got this prostate shocker thing that they stick up your butt to shock your prostate and it makes you produce a larger amount of semen than usual so they pay you five more dollars if you do the butt shocker thing? That’s how GREYS (how else?) get their semen. This is actually the only case of extraterrestrials getting technology from humans. I’ve heard that some GREY aliens were on their way to abduct somebody and walked through a semen donor clinic where they watched a nurse do the butt probe shocking thing and the GREY aliens thought into her brain, “Human Nurse, I like your style!” and instead of abducting their intended victim they marched right back to the spacecraft and came up with their own prostate shocker. You know how scientists sometimes make poisonous snakes bite through latex stretched across the top of beakers as a means of collecting their venom? That’s how the BROWNS collect their semen. Did you know that there have even been interviews with the CEO of Lockheed, a U.S. military industry corporation, where interviewers ask the CEO how certain parts of the stealth planes work and the president is like, “how the fuck am I supposed to know, that’s EXTRATERRESTRIAL TECHNOLOGY!” Most of the GREY alien technology humans have was developed for military use during WWII, things like anti-gravity, surfactant detergents, shoes with springs in the heel, etc. In contrast, Prometheuses the BROWN aliens are not. Most people who study this kind of thing suspect that the BROWNS don’t entirely trust human nature and have been holding out on us. Perhaps with good reason. I wouldn’t blame them. Apart from the well-received technology behind “one-hitters,” technology given to us by the BROWNS has been limited, at best, to unwieldy devices of dubious practicality, stuff like microfiche machines, ink-jet printers, and those dashboard flower vases in the new Volkswagen bugs that, seriously, make me want to BARF. The scary thing about Greys is that they can use mind control on you. It’s the worst part, because you are aware that you are getting abducted but you can’t even fight back against them, you just have to watch yourself walking toward their craft. That’s what tin-foil is for. Because I think punching a GREY alien in one of its big all-black eyeballs would be one of those really deeply satisfying things to do, like hitting somebody with a water balloon from a third story window or mailing some poo. After I went all bare-knuckle Chuck Norris on the first GREY alien, I’d got out into my living room where there’d probably be a bunch more, reading my paperbacks and fishing quarters out of my change bucket and tracking cat litter all over the place and I’d go all apeshit on them, flailing about with my num-chucks breaking their tiny stick-like legs and arms until I accidentally hit myself in the head with my chuks and went unconscious to awake on the floor twenty-four hours later, a friend who got concerned when I missed plans standing over me holding my num-chucks for me to see and saying something like, “maybe you should put the foam safety sleeves back on these things.” “I’m too old for training chuks!” I’d shout back in response. Because I am. I’m 29 years old. That’s WAY too old for training chuks. The BROWNS abduct people too, but it’s rare, and more like just a pleasant social visit. There’s usually snacks and polite conversation involved and they offer to take your coat if it’s winter and if you have to go to the bathroom they’ll tell you, “down the hall, second door to the left.” But here’s a word to the wise - DO NOT offer BROWN aliens Reeses Pieces. Abductee: Would you like some Reeses Pieces? Brown Alien: (trying to be polite but with obviously strained patience) Because E.T. loves those, right? Abductee: (awkwardly) No, I mean, I know E.T. likes Reeses Pieces, but lots of things like Reeses Pieces too, things like people and…. creatures, and…. things…. they all like Reeses Pieces Brown Alien: Look. I’m not E.T. okay! Abductee: I didn’t mean to say that you were! I was just trying to be polite and offer you some Reeses Pieces! I don’t think you realize what a popular earth snack these are! Brown Alien: You realize that E.T. was a work of FICTION, right? Abductee. Of course I do! I’m really sorry. Can we please just start over? Brown Alien: I’ve got a better idea, let’s just call it a day. Abductee: What? Just for offering you some Reeses Pieces? Brown Alien: (ignores abducted and presses at some buttons and crap) Abductee: I just offered you some Reeses Pieces is all! Brown Alien: (rolls eyes) Abductee: Why you gotta be like that? Brown Alien: (sending abductee down the saucer’s gravity hole to lie in an abandoned field somewhere) This abduction is OVER!

Brian 12:11 AM (1) comments

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 (0) comments

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