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14 January 2011 @ 11:42 pm
Last night I had a dream that I made a cartoon of a bouncing bunny butt. It belonged to a bunny named Mr. Charles - Charley Bun for short. It was just the view of a bunny's ass for the whole song.

I think I need therapy.

Miss you bub!
09 December 2010 @ 12:18 pm
Well... single.

Turns out that I didn't quite get it right again.
Current Location: Ashland
Current Mood: gloomygloomy
Current Music: none
30 August 2010 @ 09:30 pm
Lifetimes. It's been that long.

Last night I was... well, alright, I was stoned. But here's what matters about last night - I began to comb through old writing that was stored like strange little acorns all over my room, and my computer (just got it fixed, this is where some of this impulse comes from... does it REALLY work?? Do I still exist intact? Inspect, explore!)But what I was pleased to discover is that I have done some very good writing, and what I was a bit startled by (although, really, why?) is that the majority of my best writing was done as I was entering into, struggling with, and exiting relationships. Why? Because humans are emotional adrenaline junkies, that's why. We see clearest when we doubled over, shitting down our own throats. (To be crude) Unfortunately, what we generally see in moments of that sort of clarity is the extreme details of our own buttholes, but there is a startling clarity that comes from examining the tender parts of our nether-world under such unusual scrutiny, and from that comes the tormented masterpieces of the literary world - the great wordsmiths and nounchitects, marveling over their own anuses. However, I am now instinctively pulled to begin to print these things out, and to weave these powerful tinctures of nether-truth into my less-powerfully-motivated fictional writing. Allie wrote a very good sketch once based on the wild discomfort of a woman (herself, one can safely postulate) being in the doctor's office, about to be probed by the cold instruments of a pap-smear: A common female nightmare, I'm told, but very important to write about because it is, in it's own way, the PEERING INTO THE NETHERWORLD. Not a sexy topic, but still so intimate. It is the one-year anniversary of our "divorce," and I am still moved by her writing these things. That is a good thing - a butthole experience, one could say. Love, when it rolls across the plains of your internal world like summer thunder, makes those moments profound.

Well, that's it. Hi Livejournal!
I have not so many friends on here, and I don't imagine anyone reads these at all. That's a funny thought - an actor performing in mime at the end of an empty ally, casting comitragical shadows on a blank brick wall.
Current Location: Home home home
Current Mood: chipperchipper
Current Music: Something emo in the livingroom. Roommates.
17 April 2010 @ 12:40 am
Well, (he chuckles to himself) let's just wait and see what happens.
01 February 2010 @ 10:53 pm
and the wind blows through me
05 December 2009 @ 03:46 pm
Working backwards and forwards at once - tracking back across the years, tying up loose strings in life, love, and the business of camp and creative expression which is, in many ways, all of the above with a bunch of trappings. Yesterday I went and saw a lovely movie with a new friend (Pirate Radio, see it if you can, f-ing awesome script, soundtrack and actors having an obvious blast) and spent a good portion of the evening at the bedside of a brilliant older gent who was hooked up to oxygen tubes and in constant danger of dropping over dead. Why I was there is a long story that has to do with burning yams, but his bookcase excited me so much I had to stay and talk with him. A bond was formed. Brilliant man, interesting life - a bond was formed.
Forward and backward at the same time - like stretching taffy as far as it will go and knowing that a breaking point is inevitable - hoping in fact to find out what happens when it occurs! The excitement of letting the pieces take their own course. Flooding forward with this new dream. Today I finish the business plan, tomorrow I commit to putting my financial guts on the line again. Life, you wildly interesting bitch, I salute you.
Current Location: Land of Ash trees
Current Mood: touchedtouched
Current Music: The quiet hum of a tired processor
19 September 2009 @ 11:51 pm
Sometimes I think I might be the dumbest smart person I know.  
18 September 2009 @ 12:49 pm
I took my little rabbit into the vet, and they told me what I already knew - his back was broken. Cats can sometimes survive for years that way, wheeling themselves around in a little chair. Bunnies can't. Their digestive system doesn't allow them to remain in that prone position and survive for long. The vet held my hand, told me that she would take care of it. I sat by Mr. Hop as they sedated him, and excused myself to the bathroom as they prepared to end his life. Sitting on the toilet lid, crying my big goofy bucket dry, I can't help but think that life is so much more than I could ever hope to understand. The rain comes, the clouds chase across the sky. Years pass, and i am still wandering through this life, acting on hunches and trying to clean up messes that I make when I'm not thinking clearly.
I walked back into the room, and all the nurses hugged me. They said it's good to see a man crying over a rabbit. I said sometimes pieces of the self go hopping around with a fur jacket on. Most of them got me, some of them didn't. I took him home in a box to bury him in the sunlight. ...But I can't afford a shovel. Time to meet the neighbors.

Goodbye Mr. Hop.

You were born in a whelping cage
and buried in a shoebox, and I guess
that's fine, and I guess life doesn't give a damn anyway.
From it and to it. That is the way I know
how to go. That's the only way I know.
Current Location: Backyard
Current Mood: guiltyguilty
Current Music: Dear Jessie
18 September 2009 @ 12:26 am
Rabbits, or so I'm told, only make one real noise in their entire life. It is a shuddering scream, high and sharp, and they only ever make it when they are fighting for their life. I heard it once, years ago. It was at Brooke's house, and I was wasting my eighth grade year on her couch. Right in the middle of a Hitchcock movie and a bag of sticky popcorn, I heard the scream, and it scared me much more than the movie did. It came from the kitchen, and I sprinted down the hall to see. Switching on the light, I saw her shy little rabbit sitting quite still in the center of the floor. Nothing out of place there. So after a moment, I went and sat back down on the couch.

"Huh. I thought rabbits only made that sound when they were dying." I said. Brooke glanced up and shrugged.

A few minutes later, the little bunny hopped into the living room and - wonder of wonders! - leaped right up onto my lap and crouched there, leaning against me. I felt blessed - the rabbit was a recluse, even for it's kind, and I am a huge and hulking creature, not the kind of human that little animals instinctively trust. But there it sat, and I stroked it's back and that wonderful soft spot behind it's ears, and continued watching the movie. A few minutes later, a warmth began to soak through my pants. The little animal had bled to death in my lap.

Completely undone, I turned the rabbit carefully over and saw that the cat had ripped it's chest open. We buried it by flashlight.

Early this morning, something large jumped the fence and went after my rabbits. My neighbors woke up to the sound of the scuffle, and that awful screaming. They ran outside and chased the large animal away. Checking over the fence, they saw that all three rabbits were scared, but accounted for. They thought no more on it.

I visited the rabbits a number of times today, as they lay in the shade and bopped around in this gorgeous late-summer sunlight that Ashland is just glowing with. I brought them water a number of times, because they have a habbit of hopping right into their water bowls. It was a warm day, and though Hazel and Holly were frisky and playful, Mr. Hoppenstance seemed content to rest in the shade. I  left a chunk of carrot for him. He didn't take it, and he didn't run.

The day passed, Dave and I taking on chores and fun time in the downtown area. As the sun began to set, we finished up dinner and prepared to head off to see a play. I went out to check on the buns. Looking under the shade of the tomato plant, I saw that Mr. Hop was still laying there. But now his back legs were splayed out behind him in an unnatural way. As I approached, he looked up at me weakly, and lifted himself up on his front paws and tried to crawl deeper into the shade, dragging his lower body behind him.

I looked at him; his shabby attempt, his awkward back legs laying long on the grass behind him, and a knot of grief the size of a fist rose up and wrapped around my heart. I crawled under the bushes and checked him. No blood. But those legs... maybe paralyzed. Something strong bit him, shook him, set him to screaming and woke the neighbors.

Mr. Hop. He was the extra one - the one I didn't want, I took him out of convenient pity. He would have been meat at a fancy restaurant, and I saved him and the girls and stole away with them and snuck them up on a long car trip in cardboard boxes with rags and straw on the floor. He was alone, as he has gone into heat and had to be separated from the others. So he sat on the floor of the passenger seat in abject terror for the whole ride. It was probably the worst moment of his little life, until this. And I got him here, and he had just one day, ONE DAY in the sun and the wind and the wild enjoyment of being to move around for the first time in his life, to stretch and run and graze and enjoy all the great natural pleasures of a rabbits life that didn't involve the stupid, awful mechanized genocide that any contact with humanity inevitably brings to an animal species, and I had blown it for him already. I got too tired; I didn't put them away last night, I trusted that with plenty of room to run, they could just out-distance an enemy. I was too broke to build a proper hutch. i didn't plan this one through. I gave him transport, terror, and a single day in the sun. Now he's laying on a tarp in a playhouse in the back yard, and even if he lives through the next couple of days, he may very well never walk again. So I sat in the shade, and held his little body, and really petted him for the first time, and cried like a goddamn child. I wept for the stupid, wretched tragedy of it all - because I am alone here, because I am lost in a love that ate me alive, because rabbits die because I am too careless to save them, and because it had to happen to the one rabbit I didn't really want. I didn't do everything for him that I could, and I am so, so sorry for it. I'm taking him to a vet tomorrow morning. I don't think I can afford to save him, and that is the final injustice. But I will try, god knows I will try. Because in some small way, I'm trying for both of us. It's all I can do now. I'm sorry Mr. Hoppenstance.
Current Location: Ashland
Current Mood: Worn down
Current Music: Games without Frontiers
Yeah, I like my entries, few though they be. But no comments! None! Maybe I just need a more opinionated group of friends?
Current Location: Hole
Current Mood: ditzyditzy
Current Music: Tower of Power