|A poem I wrote for Russell to apologize for leaving him for a nap and then not returning
||[10 Jun 2007|02:36pm]
I woke at one this afternoon
Heart teeming with regret
Thoughts bristling with transgressions
I’d allowed you to beget
It’s true I was well-rested
And my brain was caught back up to speed
But this was surely no excuse
For my lethargic, thoughtless deed
It’s true I dreamt nine pleasant dreams
And slept so very sound and deep
But the tenth dream you had engineered
A robot girl to never sleep
And it was no one’s fault but mine;
Your warnings I so seldom heed
My actions are of lassitude
So very frequently
So as this poem draws
to its inevitable end,
I’m sorry that I napped so long
And also that I fucked your friend.
P.S. I didn’t really fuck your friend
But now you know it’s true
That things could considerably worse
|Nobody here but us chickens
||[03 May 2007|09:04am]
I dreamt a fucking movie starring Nicolas Cage as the antagonist (yours truly as the protagonist) about an old two story haunted house that would moan and creek and yell and generally get in my way but would never actually hurt me. I would run through it, overtaken with fear and panic, knowing the one rule - I would not be harmed - but refusing to accept that I should stop being scared. I suppose that is the way of nightmares, but upon waking, I could not help but grumble about how that is so much like my actual life. I know I am above all the petty shit that is thrown at me. I know it is a waste of time to worry about all the things I cannot change that bother me day to day. But for some reason I am having problems remembering it that no matter how many pictures follow me around with their eyes or gnarled twisting staircases deliberately collapse from beneath me to transport me safe yet shaken onto the floor below, there is really nothing that should be concerning me at all.
I'm not kidding about the Nicolas Cage part, though. He was there, and he was wearing scary fake teeth (note how I say this as if his real teeth are not scary enough), and when I finally escaped the house for good, he had a battle with some hispanic dude who also wanted to rule the house and channell its powers of fright to do his own bidding. He was determined the winner when he defeated said hispanic in a tug of war. The object of the tug of war was a mirror, that (bare with me on this), when held by Nicolas Cage, would reflect the skinless face of his opponent, and vise versa. When Cage won, he immediately threw down the mirror, breaking and instantly transporting the hispanic outside with like ten thousand dollars cash. Hey, I do not decide what I dream about. Right before I woke up, I started dreaming an actual preview for the sequel to the haunted house story, that showed the hispanic walking away from the house, cash in hand, laughing but realizing he no longer has a soul and can change into being skinless like from the mirror (I smell an arch rival!). Meanwhile Nicolas Cage is inside, discovering he can will the house to do whatever he wants it to do. We the viewer (I am no longer a character in my own nightmare) are shown the old player piano at the front of the house and we hear Cage's voice boom, "This is my house, and it WILL clean itself" as it begins to play discordant music in order to expell years-old dust from between its creepy keys. This is where I wake up.
On the upside, last night I decided that if I ever open a motel, it will be called Pyramid Max's Authentic Motel Rooms. The symbol will be one of those pyramids with the eye in the middle and the lines coming out of it for emphasis, only in pink neon to attract prospective adventurers in the dark. This is a great idea, I don't care what anybody says.
|Go West Young Brooke
||[23 Apr 2007|04:25pm]
Life is voluptuous and succulent sometimes, like if Aunt Jemima was just suddenly made out of mangoes. Suddenly I have cashmoney, an amazing guitar, two plane tickets to
Austin (live music capital of the world, dryer, liberaler), a debit card with a kitten on it, and herbal remedies for all the remaining wrong in me. I will be out of this state in no time, and as it has been said, the only part of Florida I would miss likes me enough to come with me.
|Bad news, guys
||[05 Apr 2007|11:10pm]
These ninja starfish are probably an alien race bent on taking over the planet. They are eating the Great Barrier Reef as you boredly meander around internet blogs. They can crawl onto the land, they can grow to be the appropriate size to cover a man hole, and they are reproducing in crazy numbers. They are highly toxic, containing highly potent neurotoxin. Get this: They are called "Crown of Thorn" starfish.
If that doesn't scream apocolypse, I don't know what does.
james (11:05:05 PM): well i guess it's a good thing i can crawl into air
james (11:05:13 PM): when they get planes i'll get a rocket ship
james (11:05:33 PM): dust off and nuke it from orbit.
james (11:05:35 PM): it's the only way to be sure.
brooke (11:05:16 PM): Take me with you
brooke (11:05:25 PM): I will help you with all your deep space baking
brooke (11:05:32 PM): You know, for those pesky deep space special occasions
With flagrant displays of badassery they will surely destroy us.
For more information, visit
or speak directly with slychildrensuey of AIM, harbringer of these terrible prophecies and expert Pokemon seamstress.