We were talking about "The Moonstone" by Wilkie Collins. Interesting fact: During most of it's writings Mr. Collins was hopped up on goofballs; Opium goofballs, and invented a doppleganger he called "Ghost Wilkie". Aside from inventing Detective Fiction, Wilkie wasn't a very creative guy ( Read more... )

It wasn't the type of doctor's office to have pictures of kittens struggling to hang on a branch, but I am positive there was the alphabet spelled with cartoon baseball players in action. One diving to catch the ball, some guy warming the bench, two crashing into each other etc. The fact I was continuing to visit my pediatrician was bad enough, but ( Read more... )

If the opposite of my job, Get Your Own Money Artists; or GYOMA offered me a job with competative pay and the guarantee of not chaining me to the copy machine I'd take it. Come to think of it I'd take it anyhow out of spite.

"George Bush has the biggest balls ever. I mean everybody in the world is against what he is doing, but he is doing it anyhow." A little light blinks on in my head, He doesn't have any balls at all; he's just a big dick that started this war in order to get his friends rich ( Read more... )

I am old for my age. Monday through Thursday I wake up early, sluggishly shuffle from room to room until I make it downstairs where I half-consciously stuff a book, some crackers, an ipod that I don't listen to on the bus, and a sweatshirt that I won't wear unless it is raining; and I don't wake up until my nine hour shift is over. For fun in ( Read more... )

"I don't want to sell coffee all of my life. I'd like to make movies." "What's your movie about?" I mouthed drunkenly. "It's a film about a man and a woman, both in their mid thirties, that have been unlucky in love thus far and want something more. They decide to try speed dating, meet and fall in love. I think I'll call it 'Something Unexpected ( Read more... )

Laura and I are moving to Capitol Hill by Cafe Ladro on 15th on Sept 1st

The older man, father of the old man who showed me this place on Capitol Hill, called me back and said he couldn't understand my phone number on the message I left him. In the meantime he promised a viewing and first in line cuts to some lady. We'll be there at 11am to icy stare and middle finger that bitch into a different neighborhood. I don't ( Read more... )

We all enter the small house on 320 Capitol Hill or something along those lines. It was a bit skuffed up, but the age of most houses somehow amounts to extravagant rent instead of Tim Allen and his mop tops. The floors were wood and they had a little yard that they probably had been meaning to plant a garden in, but didn't. Snacks, quoted in ( Read more... )

Folded newsletters lay in neat stacks to either side of me while Julie, a mouse of middle-aged ginger kid, worked at my side pro-bono. I turned to her, "I think my job here could be done by a robot" Since the essence of my nine hours, four days, is pushing a boulder up a hill and watching it roll down over and over and over and over and over again ( Read more... )