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I have three (3) upcoming stories for your favourite blogzine Truckin' but I was unable to get 'em past the pole before Pauly whipped out the February issue faster than an Oslo cabby hands you the bill. This month's pick is author Burton's sexy take on vampires. Thanks to the likes of True Blood and Twilight, people with teeth is back on top again! Can't wait till werewolves get back in fashion, then I can start walking around without a t-shirt again.. Anyway, good story. Feel free to add yours! Pauly writes:

I'm very hyper-excited about the second issue of 2010 which marks the return of Tenzin McGrupp. Remember that hack? We'll he's back with a speedy-story about a road trip out West. The Texas boys are anchoring the issue as per usual. Milton T. Burton shared a vampire story and Johnny Hughes is digging deep into the past and whipped up glimpse into his beatnik days. Ah, and I have a piece of L.A. fiction for you inspired by Raymond Carver and Thomas Pynchon.

Lymie Malibu by Paul McGuire
She was too whacked out to remember any lines and flubbed more and more auditions that we were both surprised when her commercial agent keeps sending her out. Kaya was the quintessential cocaine tragedy, yet somehow, she kept getting callbacks...

From Beatniks to Hippies. The Early Sixties. A Memoir. by Johnny Hughes
There was a tremendous amount of hustling other folk's dates, and it would rage all night. Eddie drank this syrupy Richard's Wild Irish wine. Yuck. The linoleum floor in his kitchen looked like a crime scene from the wine stains...

Fangs by Milton T. Burton
Halfway through her second glass of wine, he was there beside her, a small snifter of brandy in his hand. Startled, she blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind. "You can drink?"...

Thinking Out Loud by Michael Friedman
Eventually my need to ask eternal questions led me to the conclusion that the only way to get out of purgatory was to flow with life instead of trying to isolate my many momentary lapses of reason on a regular basis...

China Rider by Tenzin McGrupp
I told my nephew that his teachers and parents were lying to him and trying to turn him into a soulless zombie. He believes me. He's a good kid. He knows what's up. He knows the system is full of shit...

I'm working late tonight and having spent quite a few hours at work I tend to look at the latest virals. Among the more mindless rubbish I came across today, I stumbled over a little gem of a mixer artist namely Pogo.

Some of his amazing tracks, including the Skynet Symphonic, Alohomora and Upular are made entirely out of sounds from movies (respectively Terminator 2, Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone and Pixar film Up)!



Here's the song Upular as interpreted by Pogo (requries Flash). You can also download quite a few tracks from last.fm (direct link). Ah, this brings me back to when techno was cool. Thanks a lot, mate. This made my evening!

The greatest poker blogger of all time & long term friend, Pauly of the Tao of Pauly, is back again with another issue of Truckin'. Yay! Two thousand and ten has just come around the corner and the OMG! flying cars! stories are yet to be seen, when Pauly goes ahead and makes a comment like: "Thanks Benjo. You're like one of four people who actually read it. I appreciate that! (Benjo is a small French feller.)

What a load of shite!

The Truckin' stories are read by a lot of people. To name a few: Pauly, Change100 (editor), Sean T. Kelly, George Tate (to name current contributors), me, my girlfriend, a pick of all those you've got on your poker blog listing things, my brother, the Mysterious mr. S, Kornelius (to name a few friends), and all those angsty teens finding our archived stories on the internet a couple of years after they were written. Add to that a little French feller and you've got more than ten at the least!

Yes, we don't get a lot of feedback right now, but who knows? In fifty years' time they'll refer to it in History of Literature books. Or not. Doesn't matter. It's a small, concise and dependable outlet of the human condition that is somewhat exclusive being that there are so many group blogs and wikis out there for fanfiction and what have you that blossom the first six months and disappear. This is not that. This is Truckin'. Yes, I might not get around to reading the latest issue right away, or even in time of the new one, but I often find myself browsing the older stuff when I'm there (I got all my stories listed right here in case you were wondering), and it's like a time machine!

Having a lot of readers is amazing for five minutes. Having the right readers is a whole lot more interesting situation. You've got the creativity, the buzz, the naked ladies and the guy hanging from the chandelier. If it had been a party it would have been the happening place. Hard work will bring it around soon enough. Check out George Tate's story by the way. Good stuff. Pauly writes:

We're kicking off 2010 with a little mystery because I'm publishing the first anonymous submission in the history of this breezy e-zine. The January issue also marks the debut of Sean T. Kelly. I'm pleased to say that George Tate is back with another trucking tale and I shared not one, but two stories for this issue including a taste of fiction and thoughts on a flavorful trip to Miami.

Tubes Under Sand by Paul McGuire
The massive and elaborate tunnel system was cluttered with insane Vietnam vets eating black widow spiders, heroin addicts shooting up in the darkness, and methheads cooking up a new batch of Nazi crank...

No Era Mi Intención (I Meant No Harm) by Sean T. Kelly
We weren't the only local wildlife in that town, population 237. Hawks circled overhead hunting for prey. Iguanas scurried aimlessly across the sidewalks heading for the security of the underbrush...

Unpublished by Anonymous
He could look away from the noose he's woven. He could find something else into which he can comfortably slip. He has the power and he's done it before.

Down the Upward Staircase by George Tate
Bebop was one of those guys kind of handicapped in the girl department. He had been shy all his life and never a ladies man. He wasn't strange or picky. He always looked at the girls and when he couldn't go anymore would find his pick in a massage parlor or on his running board...

Dispatches from Miami: The Lot by Paul McGuire
Deviant derelicts crawl out of the shadows and invading the parade of freaks. That's when the inmates eventually take over the asylum...

I know it's sort of half-assed and you can barely see the last C and K, but fuck it. Take the time to zoom in on the goddamn thing, it's Friday! And I am not mad.



The scary thing about this picture is not the poor font that I used, or that it's written in ALL CAPS, nor the state of my mental health. Or that it doesn't depict a snow cock at all. No. The most scary thing is that this picture was taken from my boss' balcony that's adjoined to his office. And not just My boss, but the Boss of the the whole Foundation. I walked in there, snowy and wet, and asked: "Hello there. Can I use your balcony?" He replied on a positive, yet puzzled note, just as long as I wouldn't chuck myself over the balcony. "I wasn't planning to."

The guy in the picture is our Special Technical Adviser (read: janitor) having a fag outside the annex. He did not disagree to be in the picture... And the police car in the upper left(*) just sort of showed up for the heck of it. I promise, I am not mad. Have a nice weekend!

(*) squeakypony just let me know that it should be upper right, not left. Right.

I don't see why the USA, EU or any other international or domestic entity would embrace the patent philosophy which does NOT in its current form protect the artist, programmer or entrepreneur's interests; thus maintaining the ancient rule of de facto hierarchies and monopolies, as well as preventing innovation in a world where it is very much needed.

I also strive to fathom those who fight against the community driven efforts for sharing and collaborating without regard of the intellectual property lie, its laws and the man made borders of nations. And I can only see Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt as the explanation.



I got this petition from the Eurolinux mailing list:

Eurolinux advocates policies which lead to European Digital Independence: Full-scale Linux migration, market order & interoperability enforcement, mandatory open standards, abolition of software patenting, and sustainable public investments in Linux development for the preservation of our digital liberties. Software from the public sector ought to be licensed as free and open source software (FLOSS) to promote job creation, skills development and re-use in Europe. Eurolinux aims to overcome strategic dependencies of our critical information infrastructure which put Europeans at risk.

Google recently launched a new communication platform which aims to be a replacement for traditional e-mail, instant messaging, blog and bug posting as well as online collaboration tools. The scary thing is not that it's new and unfamiliar to us here and now, or that it still is really buggy and takes a lot of time getting used to, the scary thing is that with this new concept they might just have stricken gold. Maybe in ten years time this will be what everyone's using on any platform.. Best thing is, in order to make it so, Google intends to Open Source everything. That's the way e-mail spread across the globe in the first place. If you want to get in touch with me, or just "send me a wave" here's me identity:



If you still don't have an idea what it's all about you should check out this introduction video (very long): Google Wave developer preview. More information about the protocol can be found at Google Wave Federation Protocol, but the source code for the API itself is yet to be published. If you're interested in the technology, check out Google Wave: Under the hood also from the Google I/O 2009 conference.

At this moment you need a google account (got gmail?) to login, and I also think you need an invitation but of that I'm not sure. If you do, please contact me and I can send you one. I still have 5 left. You might consider using Chrome for this as its pretty CPU intensive at the moment. Have a nice weekend, and play nice!

EDIT: 18th of January 2010
From the Google Wave Federation Protocol website: "To encourage early experimentation with the federation protocol, we also built a basic open source client/server." This is command-line only at the moment, but allows local testing of Wave without making arbitrary connections to Google's services. Get the source code here, and check out the documentation.

As regular readers will have noticed I have been spammed the last couple of months through the blog comments. I had a hard time keeping the comments clear of spam messages in certain blog posts, but that was because my b2 blacklist module was wrongly configured (and I had reached a max limit). The situation has been remedied, much thanks to good old Mike and I am adding new IPs to the blacklists as they appear. Unfortunately, there are a lot of infected Windooze machines out there so you may experience a few spam messages once in a while, though not at the same rate as before.

An alternative solution could be to follow the example of one of my colleagues who was tired of getting spam into her mailbox. She put up a strong filtering rule and hasn't received any spam since. Or any other e-mails for that matter. She called me up in my office just to praise the wonders of good old-fashioned fax technology...! I doubt it will last.

In other news I have been reading more about Drupal, the all-in-one Content Management System that I think will prove to be the one ring to rule them all. Drupal has a lot of followers and haters, much thanks to its intricate terminology which differs from the rest of the world's. But I hope bringing a modern CMS to this site will make things easier for me, you and a lot harder for the spammers. And bring new possibilities for playing around with my Danish server. Now it's time for lunch.

While Charlie may have got a X-mas card from a hooker in Minneapolis, I am so lucky as to receive a X-mas card from Ivy at Nanyate.com in Singapore! Ivy is a twenty-something "corporate communications officer at a major Asian telco" whom I got to know through the network of b2-users and Michael Park associates (remember Michael Park the pimp?) some years back. We share a common interest in weblogs, communication, design and IT gadgetry.


X-Mas card from Ivy lying on Das Keyboard

While the internet grows incrementally into our daily affairs, we think less of the marvels of technology, such as how an Instant Message can appear instantly on a monitor at the other side of the globe after pressing enter, or without even pressing enter, and we're simply not impressed anymore. It's already old. We know how it works, we expect it to, and we're only amazed when stuff goes wrong. On the other hand, when I received this X-mas card from the other side of the world I was really amazed. And thankful, of course. But the power of old-world technology, a.k.a the pen & paper as well as the sneakernet, really beats any Second Life achievements to date.

Just think about it for a second. That little piece of paper has traveled all the way from Singapore, by how many proxies, only to find its way to a green metal box outside my door.. WHOA! It's sort of like paying extra for hand-made stuff when the factory products are just as good or better, and cheaper! It shows the effort involved. It reeks of appreciation and devotion. And a lot of spare time on one's hands, AFAIK Ivy wrote like 50 of these! Anyway, here's the text that traveled some 10065 kilometers (in straight-line mind you) only to be converted to 1s and 0s for your voyeuristic pleasure:



I've been up and down, Ivy. Severely so, I should add, given that my usual window of venting is kept from me by the forces of practicality. In other words, I can't bemoan my particulars online as much as I used to, and until my study's finished I have nowhere to be creative and alone -- a need I've had since I was very young. (Oh my God, I'm starting to sound like the emo twats of the Twilight movies..! Yup, I really need to get creative FAST or else!) But I'm hanging in there, much thanks to my beloved Lady C! The building process has run into a snag at the moment, because it is too cold in Oslo to work with cement-based products. This has given us some time to rest and catch up with ourselves, which proved to be very much needed. What a luck! I will continue posting pics to our dedicated Extreme DIY 2009 picture set, and a round-up when we reach equilibrium. But I must confess that every time I stop and have a look at our flat and think how nice it will become, be it a ceiling, a wall, or simply the size of it all that triggers it -- I am truly in awe. Thumbs up!

As you might notice some parts have been cut out from the original picture. It was probably removed by Flickr.com due to severely foul language.. or not. But hey! It's a Christmas card, yay! We put it in our brand new kitchen with the others, to remind us of our friends and family during this extremely cold January month when the building rate is slow and our mood is low. Thanks again, Ivy! I figure the only way to repay you would be to send you a signed pet poodle and have it delivered by steam boat, piece by piece, and have it re-assembled and delivered by your local taxidermist. On a second thought, I'm not sure if you're allergic to dogs. Have a nice weekend anyway!

Tonight you can see a partial lunar eclipse in Norway, and 'tis the first New Year's Eve feat. a so-called blue moon in many years. Meaning that your chicken won't lay eggs. Also, it's freaking cold.

It's so cold that the interns of our local gym is nowhere to be seen handing out fliers. So cold that planes are running 12 hours late. So damn cold that the far too many homeless in Oslo can freeze to death tonight. While the city spends millions in fireworks. So cold that our car won't move until it's been running for a quarter of an hour. So cold that the music from my cellphone sometimes drop on its way through the earplug cables. So cold we be making love all the time just to stay alive. Snotty love. Yes, it is so cold that I, Sigg3, got a cold last night.

That's right.
We've got our little, brave heating fan running 24/7 in the kitchen, to make sure the water pipes are alright, but it never gets comfortable. Just alright. With plenty of clothes on. And with the everlasting ordeal of Parking the Car in a street packed with snow you quickly run the risks of cold and disease.

Oh, and I'm writing this from my cellphone 'cause we ain't got no internet connection either. Just this lousy edge subscription without any dataplan whatsoever.

Luckily, Lady C's ahead of the situation and got us sorted with a New Year's dinner & celebration at her sister's place, where we all feel very welcome and slightly intimidated. C's sister insists I call her Vixen if I am to address the internets on her behalf. It's true. Vixen stopped eating food altogether a couple of months ago, in favor of nutrition bags you fill with water, just like in 2001: A Space Oddysey. I hope they come in turkey too. I spent Christmas Eve with Vixen, her brother, mother and grandmother while Lady C was saving lives at work. I like her close family, honestly, quirky and relaxed at the same time. And they seem to accept me very well too, which is always a plus especially around Christmas.

It has been a very meaningful year for me, if that makes any sense. Like most other citizens of Norway, I now have a home and a huge debt. Three different loans at three different places. I also have attended some 300% more meetings at work, actually getting to know my peers in the Admin group. This bit has somewhat solidified my position, integrating me further into the work space of actual living adults. But as soon the apartment is finished I will go back to writing again. The last six months have been hard on my freedom of creativity, yielding an aspiring bitterness which stem from the dark pits of the souls of us North-Norwegians. Or the simple denial of exercising ones talents in lieu of hard moneymaking labor. It is ridiculous, unnecessary and existential Hell to my beloved C. Fortunately, my girlfriend's love for me and us overcomes my shortcomings. To my continual great suprise:)

What we have been building the last half a year is our future. And we've done things, construction wise, I would have never dreamed ourselves capable of. Ditto for explicit acts of intercourse, of course, but my imagination in that area of investigation isn't quite as lacking.

As for summing up the decade I will have to spend some more time trying to remember what the hell it was all about, but frankly I couldn't care less. The future is now. Historians will have their say in a hundred years anyway.

It's good to finally leave the toddler years of 2000 alone. We're entering an era of optimism, despite the huge hords of cynics and nay-sayers online. Because we've got a project. The climate threat, whether real or not, could well prove to be a defining collaboration for our kind. We just need something constructive to focus on, to fill the place in our hearts that has been the captive of "entertainment fear" for so long. Scary stories can be fun, deadly fun; but they are just stories, and quickly overwon by the will of those who recognize the human potential in all its variation, and the strongest power of all: true happiness.

So a Happy New Year to everyone! Let's party like it's 2009, and see you in the next!

This will be the last you hear from me before Christmas, so pay attention!

Merry Christ- and Obamamas!

Obamamas.. sounds like acidic fruit.

Despite our best efforts, there will be Christmas celebrations this year as well. In Norway, that's the 24th and not the 25th of December. Lady C has spent our last dough on food, which is now stored around the study, being the coldest room in the building. We managed to seal off the kitchen, hallway, bathroom and bedroom-half of the apartment, making it easier to stay warm. As you may or may not know cold winds are gathering over Europe, pollacks are dying, and there will be no final battle between good and evil until at least 2010 (if you watched the Copenhagen summit).

We have a lot to be thankful for this year. Doors come to mind. Thanks to doors we will not freeze to death. And having a job is pretty good as well, even though it has been a hectic three months now due to a 60% position at work, 140% position at home, and a University that withdrew my rights to study. I sent them an e-mail inquiring into the particulars of studying from a passion of learning (hence the choice of Philosophy among relevant bachelors), and was met with great understanding and common blame on the so-called Quality Reforms imposed on Norwegian students. Luckily, this only means that I'll have 3 months off studying while I collect some more cash, and pay more debts.

We have a bathroom now, including a WC that functions almost all the time(!), a nice sink and a brilliant shower corner. I will have to write more about our experience with this bathroom company in 2010. And the company doing our kitchen. There are bones to pick and midgets to punch, and lawyers to notify, and disclaimers to post. In 2010.

And 2010 is on its way! Wow. The year we make contact! .. with what, exactly? Let's hope it's some million dollar deal, set for life, and off to the Caribbean! Or my writing. Or that it's ourselves, perhaps, and planet earth in general. But let's not argue about the colour of flying cars, the placement of borders and the institutions of religion; 2010 should be the year we make contact with each other. I have friends in Palestine, Israel, China, Malawi and Afghanistan, to name a few spots on the crust of Planet Earth. Let's take communication technology further than governments' and censorship's' dirty little hands can reach.

And speaking of contact, I've not been the best one in keeping it. I've blogged less, as the entire internet knows, and written a whole lot less; but that's just spittle to the vast ocean of absence I've constituted in the life of my friends. Some have noticed it, even. But both me and Lady C will remedy the situation as soon as our apartment is habitable for indoor alcoholic events.

2009 in contrast, has been the year we make contracts. Big contracts. Lots of money going out of my personal fortune, Lady C's inheritance and so on. I've never been so poor in my life as I am now. Yet I can't seem to worry much about finances. We will manage. Conversely, I am a lot richer now than ever. We may have an yet unfinished property at the moment, but at least we have this property. And for every glance I take in of our brilliant home, the more I know we've done the right thing. And I'm just amazed we weren't overrun by other bidders in the purchasing process. There were 10 other bidders for this apartment. They just didn't see its potential.

Of course it has been hard working like this. I am a lumberjack for Christ's sake, not a carpenter. Christ, on the other hand, was a carpenter. And like other craftsmen you can bet he didn't arrive on time, always missed some of the material that's needed and in general was very hard to get hold of. I'll bet you that the Eve of Long Friday when Jesus joined his Heavenly Father upstairs, there were at least three appointments he was breaking. What is it with craftsmen? The Lord works in mysterious ways, or not at all, at least if it's lunch break. And still expects to be paid in full..



Christmas is not a time for apologies and moral accounting however! No, it's a fiesta! We celebrate food! and Family! and Exclamation Marks! ...in NEON writing absolutely everywhere. We're eating a lot of pork these days, and it feels good. After countless kebab dinners and deep fried salads it is simply wonderful having the possibility to cook your own meal. With real potatoes. And Lady C being your average brilliant chef isn't something I complain about either. On the contrary, there are so many other things to complain about.

Rounding up this blurb, I must repeat that my photostream at Flickr is still being updated, and more so than the blog. So head over there and please don't be shy to comment. I'll prolly be back at work on Monday before New Year's Eve, but in case I forget, have a Happy New Year as well as a Merry Christmas and a Bloody Mary or perhaps a mouthful of XO cognac.. Mmmm cognac. In any case be good, if not better. See ya!

This blurry, non-descriptive picture of an unknown hairy hominid was forwarded me by Lady C this weekend. Skeptics say it's just a mangy bear or a guy in a suit, but I'm definitely sure that it depicts an hitherto unknown primate that dwells in the urban city center of Oslo, somewhere near a sealed off kitchen area that was recently tiled.



On a more trivial note, this is from our Saturday breakfast:



Yes, this is how we live. Now.
But in a year from now, we're gonna be all upper-class on yo ass!

When I got up late this morning and turned on the radio, the news reporter was drowned down in shouting, police dogs barking and helicopter noise. The warzone she was reporting from was downtown Oslo, because one hour prior to my rising up from bed TEH OBAMA MAN! had landed on Norwegian soil. They effin' closed down one of the busiest highways in Norway (Oslo-Gardermoen) for this guy.. Let's hope he's worth it, not to mention the gold price in peace making. I mean, the speech was good, but I've heard speeches that ended upon the last word in the sentence and carried no effect on the space-time continuum other than broken expectations.

Didn't I go to see it?
Heck no. A man's got to work. Put food on the table.

I've added 30 new photos to the Extreme DIY 2009 gallery. Enjoy the weekend!

Here's the last five pics on my flickr photo account:


The final act in Tom Waits' 60th Anniversary Tribute Concert in Oslo
At this point all the performers got on stage and sang Innocent when you dream with the audience. It was sold out!



The locker room by the shower at work where I take care of my personal hygiene these days..



My first ever taste of the Norwegian X-mas tradition: Smalahove (sheep's head)
It tasted just like mutton, only stronger. I didn't try the eyeballs or the brain, saving that treat for later.



Christmas is so gay..



My vegetative friend, the Shai-Hulud, a.k.a Mons (see more Mons pics here)

The growling groundhog of the metropolitan under-bowels, Tom Waits, turns 60 today the 7th of December 2009. The jingle:



Yup. It's not the usual jingle, I know, but Tom's not a usual man. The picture's from his 2008 Glitter and Doom tour, this particular one from Prague, provided by Gut. In celebration of Tom Waits' enthralling artistry and prevalent persona we are gathering at Rockefeller in Oslo tonight from eight o'clock. See you there!

Whenever I see Wikimedia throwing a fundraiser I can't help but give.



Whenever I use the internet and come across something I need to cross-check or just wonder about, I do a lookup on Wikipedia. I claim it is the #1 source of technical info in the world when it comes to Information Technology. Whenever you need a starting point, there's Google + Wikipedia providing it for you. How many lookups have you done this week? 10? 50? Give something back.

This Saturday my good old friend Kornelius turned 25 years old! The jingle:

Happy belated Birthday Kornelius!



I've known Kornelius since we were like 6-7 years old when he was a complete asshole, solely because he was in the A-class and I was in the B-class, until we teamed up with the Army Dude to form Crescent - the one and only grunge band of Northern Norway. And the best.

Kornelius is a very good friend of mine and the infamous author of great works such as Untitled 1, Untitled 2 and Misc. untitled tales that are yet to be published. Sadly, both I and Lady C were too exhausted from construction work on Saturday to even consider a night out to celebrate, but we promise a great party when our flat's finished and ready for the test. For another 25 good years, skål!

Yep, these shoes were made for walking, they're called "walking shoes", and they also came in the distinct color of black.



That's half a year of garbage dust, plaster and mortar dust, spackle remains and paint stains on what were a pair of brand new, black walking shoes. They creak like a nervous hamster in a perfume lab when I walk. I'm becoming a slob. In fact, both of us are. Last week we had pork chops for dinner twice. Before all this, before I met Lady C, I would consider myself lucky if I had it twice every six months or so. But last week we had pork chops twice. Slowly, but surely, we're turning into trailer trash.

Last night having finished the last wall in the new kitchen, we spent an hour looking at photos from August till today. It was literally gut-wrenching. To see more of the pictures from the apartment makeover head over to my flickr set called Extreme DIY 2009. There isn't that much there yet, but it'll grow. We're taking pictures every day as we make ourselves the home of our dreams.

We've been working exclusively on the apartment lately, which my friends can attest to since I haven't been out Saturday nights in over a month, or is it two months now? The three Truckin' stories I had penned previously are the entire results of a few afternoons off, of which there are very few at the moment, so I can't promise any more stories before 2010 sets in. Hopefully I will have a study to write in about that time:)

Luckily there are some quite entertaining writers keeping the ship afloat, but first an introduction by Pauly:

The November Truckin' marks the debut of George Tate who shared a chilling road tale. Since we're on a road theme, Johnny Hughes penned a piece about his rough and tumble days as a gambler in Texas. It's been a while since we had a story from Bobby Bracelet, and yes, this one involves a penis... his penis to be exact. Not to be outdone, Betty Underground returns with another one of her sultry tales. And I wrote a New York City story about friends I knew a decade ago.

Truckin' needs help with promotion. The scribes write at Truckin' for free and you'll be doing me a huge favor by helping get them well-deserved publicity. Think grass roots. Tell your Facebook friends. Tweet your favorite story. Print up an entire issue and leave it in the bathroom at home or at work. You never know when you're in need of reading material.

The Stoop by Paul McGuire
I convinced him to meet me at shit hole in the East Village instead of stalking the hooker. He showed up to the bar totally rejected, like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and nailed to his forehead...

A Young Man and Road Gambling by Johnny Hughes
One time coming out of Mexico with my pals, we had the cash stashed for the 300 plus miles home. Smuggling rum brilliantly, we had the backseat floorboard covered in bottles of rum. It was brutally cold, and we had our coats over the rum. The guys in the back had their knees up real high, and we got caught...

Brain Storming by Betty Underground
One comment leads to another and like the winding road that brought him to that beach house, we are all over the mountain of topics that are just 'life'. The non-specific, yet charmed, lives of two souls who have a lot of blanks to fill in and it seemed this time I was doing a lot of the filling-in...

Dick-Hole by Bobby Bracelet
Chlamydia is sort of like the strep throat of the genito-urinary system. It's killed by an antibiotic, but while it's there it causes symptoms that really aren't any worse than strep, just more embarrassing because of the area of the body...

The Ride by George Tate
While fueling he noticed a young long hair in a robe and sandals looking much like a scriptural disciple who had begun to walk across the I-10 bridge then down the east bound ramp towards Phoenix...

When you wake up from a terrible nightmare, as opposed to the really pleasant ones, it's always great to turn around in the bed and land your arm on the gal of your choice. Milla Jovovich! Or, as it very well is in my case, Lady C. It immediately dulls the sting of fear that just previously penetrated you like a cancerous icicle.. Which hands you a great opportunity to further elaborate on the nightmare, from the comfortable distance of being surrounded by the warmth of a fellow human being.

Of course, later on she tells you she had a terrible dream in which you were a complete asshole and that she can't help but still wanting to punch your face, and it puts things back into perspective. Better than coffee.

Last night I had another dream in the Jurassic Park category. I've had plenty of them, but I've also read Freud, and can't see anything wrong about being scared of velociraptors or T-Rexes chasing you down to eat you. In fact it may well serve its purpose when I finally meet one face to face. I'll know what to do! I'll just toss around in bed.

This time I was a part of a pseudo-family, bunch of kids I half-knew, and we were voluntarily entering the dinos' domain! We could be orphans in an orphanage on safari, or taken in by foster parents, in any case it was just like those American family-friendly TV shows where the family ties are rather vague but everyone seems to get along. You can't really tell if "the parents" are the parents or not, but that's beside the point!

Anyway, the quote unquote father of the household was a Victorian-style explorer and/or scientist and/or Indiana Jones, and he was supposed to chase down T-Rexes for some reason. Just like you bring down cattle for branding, he and his men were going to lure the Rex into submission, and what do you know; THEY WOULD DO IT JUST IN FRONT OF THE DOORSTEP.

We had moved into this old, abandoned, colony-style building to setup base. All the kids had duties but I was sort of new to the deal and was shown around the premises. It was a really nice place, but hey, the man-eating monsters of yore were like right over there! We were doing the chores when we witnessed the "father" being chased by a T-Rex down the road, and recognized it as completely normal. No biggie. I'm still shrugging just thinking about it. But then for some reason the hunt went wrong and the T-Rex took a turn to the right when they were passing the building and it headed straight for us!

There was a girl and a boy hiding with me. The girl sort of reminded me of Christina Ricci in The Addams Family, and she posed the role as a big sister. The one in charge. But the boy was also familiar with the routine of not being eaten by a Tyrannosarus Rex, leaving only me shitlessly scared trying to make my body follow the instructions she was giving us.
The T-Rex didn't have very acute hearing, and couldn't see stuff if it didn't move, so I gather it must have been the same one that starred in the movie. She told us not to move, and we did as she said right up until the last minute when the Rex was about to lose interest and continue chasing people down the dirt road WHEN I MOVED AND KICKED A PEBBLE!

I swung around the corner into the house and managed to stay completely still while the Rex was checking out the spot I had just been sitting. Which was one and a half meter from where the boy and the girl was sitting.

I can't remember exactly what happened, but the next thing I do remember was standing in the adjacent barn up on that part that's also at great biting-height if you're a T-Rex, looking down on the girl and the boy still on the floor, and a furiously interested carnivore chasing them around the place. And that's when I woke up I think, into the arms of Lady C. And that's it, more or less. She had to go to work and I proceeded to master the skills of door fitting, still in my sleep. Huh.

So we're working on the flat this evening having made an entire new plaster wall, and finishing up by putting up white wallpaper on the next, when I get the sudden urge to use the bathroom. I have yet to tell the Internet about our very expert explicitly deleted bathroom entrepreneurs who have YET to finish our bloody bathroom, AND IN THE MEANWHILE left us for near three weeks without a functional toilet.

Fuck the bathroom, things take time, but I just don't wanna piss in a bucket when I'm being all manly and flexing my biceps and shit, building a new home with my own two hands. In time each will pay his dues, but forget about that right now.

So there's me and Lady C, putting up white wallpaper on the wall where we imagine the upper bedpost will be, when I have to use the bathroom. It's nine in the evening, and we only have one (1) working light that burns through your scull if you look into it and through your skin and into your bone if you touch it anywhere else but the handle. That, and my LED flashlight that some kid sold me at a gas station. Apparently it replaces One Million Candles if you believe the commercial. It's hard, sturdy and it gets everywhere. "But!" as the kid at the gas station helpfully pointed out when I was examining it, "it's not a dildo, it's a torch!" Which was exactly what I needed so I bought it. And it has never failed. But I digress again.

So there's me and Lady C, wallpaper, and the million candles of a LED torch and our robust work light casting long shadows on the plaster walls around us. I need to use the bathroom. Lady C's listening to the radio, humming the tune.
- I think I have to use the bathroom
- *singing along*
- Actually, I have to use the bathroom
- *still singing along*
- I think I'm gonna head over to Tasty to borrow their bathroom
- *still not paying attention to the man of the house*
- LADY C FFS!!!!
- What?!
- I'm heading out, I have to crap
- Oh, okay
- I'll be right back

With the trusty not-a-dildo torchlight in hand, I ventured off into the 100 square meter apartment looking for my keys, my jacket, my cellphones and all these ridiculous new wonders of technology necessary to make a pit stop outside your home. In the silence of darkness I hear C turning the radio up, singing along to the Black Eyed Peas. I head into the used-to-be-a-kitchen type of room to look for my hat when a burst of quick business is thrust through my digestive system, my voluntary muscle control's immediately withdrawn, the cold war is over! and barely shitting my pants I pick the nearest bucket of paint thinner to at least save the floor and my clothes and half of my dignity.

So there I was, shitting in a bucket.

Liquid shit and paint thinner doesn't small awful, it smells godawful. In addition, the solvent rising up from the bucket makes it harder to balance on top of anything. Sniffing is extremely underrated. In a state of drug induced paralysis sitting in the kitchen on a bucket of shit on the floor, having succumbed to some sort of stomach virus with its immediate, imposing results beginning to dawn on you can make any man question the meaning of life, the universe and everything. And the goblin in the corner. It was about that time the LED flashlight went out. And I could hear Lady C singing in the next room.

I gotta feeling...
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night

Nope. She had absolutely no idea how the evening would transpire.