Wednesday, August 01, 2007


I used to envy the imbecilic. I'd see my baby cousin laughing hysterically at a word he just made up ("kookoomaracha"), or hear my English teacher explain the "theory" that her other class created, that the main characters in the novel A Separate Peace are homosexuals ("This book is fuckin' gay!"), and I would get jealous. Life is so easy when you're stupid. You just float on, being amazed at how things turn out, and you never worry about anything, because you have no idea how it works anyway. Things are so simple when you're dumb.

I used to envy the imbecilic. Then, I convinced one of them that I was a fifty-seven year old black man named Chang, that I used to play drums for Nirvana, and that I was also the illegitimate son of Real World star Mike "The Miz" Mizanin, despite my alleged aged being at least thirty years greater than his. I did this for no reason, and they believed me, unable to detect my sarcasm, or the logical impossibilities of my story. Then I sold them my autograph for ten dollars. I'm so glad I'm not stupid.

Blue Flush

I always have fantastic ideas right before I go to sleep.  The problem with this is that I can't find a good way to record them.  I'll think of an amazing idea for a story to write, and I'll try to write down key phrases in my phone, but this never works.  I think that the few words I record will be enough to jog my memory on this brilliant plan, but the next morning, I check my phone for the idea, and I'm left with a cryptic phrase like, "Little bacon train."  What the hell did I mean by that?