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Sep. 5th, 2007 @ 09:47 pm i see her in everyone i meet
and slowly we're making up through the years over the span of short exchanges of words i have with anonymous people.






...



i shouldnt have told that bum i loved him.
About this Entry
potatosandwater:
Feb. 8th, 2007 @ 07:58 pm Dr. Critterstein
Hi friends,

Here's a short story I started. Feedback welcome:

It’s not easy sneaking the ribcage of a turkey up to your bedroom. Two months ago, I stashed the radius, ulna, and fibula of Mum’s roasted chicken in my slipper. That was simple. I made a delicate razor slit in the side panel of my slippers then carefully needled the three bones inside. When I climbed the stairs to my room, I put most of my weight on the opposite foot as not to crush the goods. Last week, I swiped a gorgeous femur from the cafeteria and smuggled it in the front pouch of my bag. I knew it would survive the trip. However, this ribcage is quite different. Mum bought a twenty-one pound turkey and the rib cage was nearly the size of a soccer ball. Additionally, we had lots of company at the table and Mum was busy going in and out of the kitchen. It was clear that I needed alone time with the carcass. My opportunity came when Mum asked me to help clear the table. She bounded off to the kitchen with an armload of dirty soup bowls and a pair of salad tongs so I gripped the turkey platter. The kitchen door swung shut for an instant and I rolled the rib cage into my dress sweater without a speck of hesitation. Mum had her back towards me as I placed the platter on the counter next to her. The platter still held mounds of bones, cartilage, fat, skin, and gravy so the ribs and sternum weren’t missed.
“Thanks Artie-Babe,” she said quickly as she twisted the faucet with a squeal.
“Yes Mum.”
Conversation was chugging along at the dinner table so I took a sharp left up the stairway. Both hands gently cradled the package beneath my sweater. I arrived at my bedroom door, scanned the hallway then shuffled into my bedroom. I closed the door quickly behind me and fastened three deadbolts in a well-rehearsed motion. My Dad often gripes that I spend, “Too much fricken time in the bedroom!”
I peeled back my sweater, retrieved the goods, and placed it on my desk. I got on my knees and reached under my mattress pulling out a secret compartment drawer. It had over 200 bones in organized compartments. The collection came from a mix of animals. Raccoon, squirrel, dog, seagull, cat, iguana, halibut, skunk, and two possums. All found around the yard over the summer. I dissected them and boiled the bones. Some bone stews smelled worse than others. My bone collection consisted of six intact skulls, eighty –three separate vertebrae, half a pound of tarsals, metatarsals, carpals, and metacarpals; six rib cages, seven pelvic bones, two carefully glued sacrum, one chipped coccyx, and over ninety assorted bones of the leg and arm. I gave the drawer a shove and it started retracting back inside the base of my bed.
After double-checking the deadbolts and picking up the turkey rib cage, I entered my closet and waded through what seemed to be six feet of clothes still in plastic. Aunt Bev moved in with us when Uncle Cecil died last May. She came with all her clothes. Once through the forest of clothes smelling of moth balls and old lady perfume, I hopped onto an old crate in the back corner of my walk-in closet. My hand fumbled for the latch above and opened the trap door to the hidden part of the attic. It was completely closed off from the normal attic and only I knew about this trap door. I pulled myself up through the trap door and dusted myself off.
My secret laboratory was as Jimmy Calway says in gym class, “Sa-weeet!” I had all the necessary supplies for a small science lab: small frig, buckets of formaldehyde, two hundred and thirty books about science and anatomy, a computer with cable modem internet access, and three dissecting kits swiped from different schools. My own laboratory! The first thing I do when I come up here is reach for my long white overcoat. When I write in my lab journal I sign my name Dr. Critterstein. It’s just something fun that I do. I take pride in taking careful notes in my lab journal on everything I observe such as weights and textures of dissected organs, and descriptions of muscle elasticity. That’s what scientists are supposed to do.
The stove turned on with a picked-up-at-a-yard-sale hum and I retrieved my Dad’s camping kettle. It worked very well for boiling away the fat and muscle from bones. Using tongs, I lowered the ribs into the water and sat down to wait. Usually, I listen to classical music when I await bone cleaning. I despise the moronic music that my classmates enjoy like the Backstreet Boys. Pop music is a bunch of no-talent dolts making fools of themselves. I prefer the classical composers that have withstood the test of time such as Ludwig van Beethoven and Dmitri Shostakovich – you know – “the good sheeeyitt” as Uncle Cecil used to say. Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony – The Pastoral is a favorite because the breaks between movements are perfect times to complete steps in the cleaning of the bones. Between movements one and two – strain the fat and return to the stove, between movements two and three – add sea salt and Canola oil to hard the bone, and between movements three and four – turn the heat off and allow time to cool.
At 2:35am, I awoke steeped in sweat from the worst nightmare yet. I’ve been having nightmares for the last month but I don’t know why. How can I talk to my parents about dreams that are so horrible? Tonight’s dream began with me swimming. Everything was dark and warm. I could feel particles bouncing off my back as I surged through liquid tunnels. Everything got brighter and I saw what looked to be an enormous heart. Valves sealed together and the heart squeezed and sent blood and my body soaring through the aorta artery with such force that I could feel my skin burn from the friction. As I sailed through the artery, I began to see more clearly. All my surroundings became eerily transparent. As my vision got clearer, I realized that I could see microscopic objects. But I couldn’t just see these microscopic things - I was the same size as them! There were viruses with sharp spurs sticking out like torturous spikes and bacteria that spun awkwardly and gave off horrid odors. The stink was the kind of awful odor where as soon as you come across it you start looking for squirming maggots. A mammoth viral cell suddenly latched onto me like a jiu-jitsu master. I remember hearing a high-pitched scream that sent waves of tremors throughout my spine and caused my entire body to hum. It must have been a signal for other viral cells. A signal that gave the message that a host had been found. I heard a slightly lower scream and saw two other viral cells spiraling towards me from below. It felt like jackhammers were chopping away at my stomach. The jackhammers were cutting through each layer of skin and muscle then lodged inside my small intestines. My chest heaved violently as the viruses squirted thick dollops of digestive juices into my abdomen and lungs. All I felt was pain as the team of viral cells slowly split open my stomach. I looked down at my body and saw that I was splayed in two, as I had done to many a baked stuffed lobster at Cape Cod. The virus bullies convened over my exposed insides and seemed to give each other a nod and with that they buried their horns and teeth into my guts. They tore and slurped at my organs as I screamed bubbles into the surrounding blood. I awoke with tears smeared down my face and neck.
About this Entry
takataka27:
Sep. 26th, 2005 @ 08:21 pm new song lyrics
Current Mood: chipperchipper
magic cruise ship
lyrics and music by ryan

settle down kids and gather 'round- i'll tell you the story of
a guy named john and a girl named sally and how they were star crossed loves.

john was a man, he was a mountain man, as tall as a redwood tree.
yes john was a man, such a mighty man, as tall as a six-foot three-inch tree.

and john and sally had never met before the fateful night.
they loaded up the cruise ship and yelled "all aboard" and sailed off out of sight.

and it was
magic cruise ship
magic cruise ship
flying around in outer space
fighting off aliens to save the human race

then on the deck, john met sally, he held her in his arms, like a nest holds a dove
it was the beginning of their romance, the beginning of their true love.

and then
and then
and then
and then
and then
sally said "oh no!"
and then
sally said "oh no!"
and then
john said "uh oh!"
bleh den
bleh den
sally seh ohoh
deh deh
salleh seh buh duh

and then

john was hit in the head with a turkey
yes john was hit in the head with a turkey
oh john was hit in the head with a turkey
yes john was hit in the head with a turkey

and then john died.
and then john died.
died john then and.
died john then and.
died.
died!
died.
died!

well sally was heartbroken, split in two
and she cried for what seemed like days
yeah sally was torn right in two
she cried for a few days.
cried for days and nights.
sally cried for three days and twenty nights.

and when the war was over one week later and sally was burying john
she said that she'd never love another and that she'd never be able to move on.
then john woke up from his turkey grave and gave sally a kiss right on her head
an sally had a heart attack and died the next day and they were dead and happy forever!!

magic cruise ship
magic cruise ship
just another sad tale of two lovers end.
the moral of the story is dont get hit in the head
with a turkey
with a turkey
with a turkey
or
you could die.
About this Entry
potatosandwater:
Aug. 12th, 2005 @ 09:44 pm (no subject)
much less than three

In the cool Autumn mist I walked through the park,
through the long winding paths with trees lining the way.
The sky was not light yet nor was it dark,
and in this twilighted mood my thoughts went astray.

I thought of the nature of things- things catching my attention,
such as the clouds being formed in the late-day sky.
I tried to examine with my best comprehension,
the reason that the redwoods try to grow so very high.

I pondered the reason metal rusts the way that it does,
and why flowers only bloom in the warm days of spring.
What makes grass grow? What makes bees buzz?
Why are spirals present in almost every thing?

And it hit me so hard I had almost missed it,
There is a reason things do what they do after all-
every last thing- all things existant,
even why time goes forward and why gravity makes things fall.

It's in the search for balance that they do what they do,
In their math and chemistry through and through.
It is what all things in the universe ultimately pursue;
Atoms, galaxies, plants. Even me and you.

I recalled the embraces we shared in discreet.
Our chemicals in harmony, knowing what we had gained.
Two halves becoming one; becoming complete.
Something the stars in heaven took ten million years to obtain.

I remembered the note you had written down.
I reached in my pocket and pulled it out to read.
"I'm going to miss you when you're not around.
Thank you for everything. Much <3"
About this Entry
potatosandwater:
Jul. 31st, 2005 @ 10:40 pm (no subject)
I was standing outside of the comic store reading my newly acquired issue of "Fly Man", just getting to the end where I was supposed to find out if Fly Man beats Moth Man when I come to a full-page ad for ACME Gadgets. My eyes skimmed the page, glancing over the cut-out ads for "Xray Goggles" and "Hologram Ring" and my eyes finally settled on an ad for "Investigation Machine". It was a simple ad- the whole page was a red color, and the machine was a simple box with a basic lightning-bolt shape on the side, a slot-machine lever on the other side, a light bulb on top, and the face of the machine had an array of arbitrary buttons and knobs. Caption read "Investigation Machine: Accurately answers all inputted questions."
I was fairly intrigued by the ad so I decided to send away $9.95 (plus tax) for one. Three weeks later the parts and manual arrived. It was time to assemble.

I pieced the thing together rather quickly- it was essentially a series of main-boards that plugged in to eachother and it was all encased in a sheet-metal box that screwed together. The slot-machine lever was a little loose at first but I got that tightened up in no time. It was time to test the baby out. But on what?

Looking down at my feet I realized my socks didn't match. I remembered this morning as I was putting my socks on I couldn't find a matching sock for my black pair so I had to borrow one from my plaid pair. Reading the manual, I used the series of knobs and dials on the face of the investigation machine to ask "where is my other sock?". Pulling the lever, the series of blinking lights on the face went on and off in a seemingly random order when all of the sudden a buzzing noise came from the machine just as the top light bulb illuminated. It was like a toaster telling you your toast was done! According to the output of the lights on the front of the machine, my sock was under my bed.

I ran upstairs and checked under my bed to see, but no sock was there. "What a piece of junk this is" I thought.
I did however spot my remote control that I had been missing, and upon taking that out and placing it back in the remote drawer that I have in my end-table, I found my sock in the place where the remote was supposed to be. I just sat there, dumbfounded, when I got a call from my friend Alex.

Alex told me that he was out walking and fell through a portal in to an alternate dimension and he is now stuck on a road somewhere that has no ending and apparently no beginning either. As he described to me, the GPS function of his cell phone is going haywire so he had no idea where he was, and worse, he had no idea which way north/south or east/west was. He said if he were to look in either direction of the sides of the road, all he could see was an endless field of tall grass. According to him, if he were to make some kind of distinguishing mark in the road, then walk straight down the road for a few miles, he would come right back to where he started. He tried walking through the field as well, but alas, those horizons wrap around too, and he came right back to the road. Figuring this out probably took him a few hours, but the sun just stayed in the exact same place-- right at the top of the sky, as if wherever he was it was in a constant state of noon.

I knew it was my mission to find him and save him, and I knew I had to use the investigation machine to get me there somehow. My journey began with me hopping on my bike and heading down to where Alex said he last remembers being before appearing on the road. The city park. The current time is about 9am.
About this Entry
potatosandwater:
Jul. 29th, 2005 @ 01:10 am (no subject)
really lame rhyming pattern, but oh well-

sitting in space, painting the sky,
turning day in to night with the blink of my eye,
i'm breathing the breeze,
you're filling the seas,
and next we'll go put the green on the trees.
it's fun spending all this time with you,
making a planet; something new.
a place we can say we made together-
a place that's always got early-spring weather.
and on the planet it will be just you and i,
and we'll have a nice house and a car that can fly,
a place where we can grow senile and old,
and curl up in blankets when it gets really cold.



new love poems:

who stole my hat oh there it is.
anyway, do you want to go eat food with me tonight?

oh no my feet turned into giant breads!
all the more reason to hold hands.
About this Entry
potatosandwater:
Apr. 3rd, 2005 @ 01:34 am (no subject)
'Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know
What life is, you who hold it in your hands';
(Slowly twisting the lilac stalks)
'You let it flow from you, you let it flow,
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And smiles at situations which it cannot see.'
I smile, of course,
And go on drinking tea.
About this Entry
orsorum:
Feb. 20th, 2005 @ 11:12 pm the birds say "!p = {5(6^y)/x^y} where y is a range of irrational numbers from 0 to 1"
as i sat in my basement, remolding my ground-beef helmet of distrust, scanning through stock footage of schools of fish and bird migrations, i noticed a simple pattern that emerged. just then i heard a knocking at the cellar door, and I was afraid to open the door, because everyone for at least four miles was dead. With the bodies of my friends strewn about the basement, I step over them towards the shelf in the wall. I pull down the jars of hair I have been collecting and began to light tufts on fire. The smell has warded off my knocking enemies for now, but I don't know how long it will keep them at bay. I do know one thing: I'm running out of my supply of fresh blood to paint the wall with, and I fear that once it dries something bad will happen.

U = {!0}

the noises of static and moaning returned from inside of the walls. visions of the bloodied children singing "you are my sunshine" as their headless friends play jump rope in the front yard. the sky is an odd white-ish color, and as I become more aware of what is going on, the children stop and gaze at me. the jump-rope has stopped mid air.

with that, there are seven different combinations of animal you can make with a home sewing kit and a few domesticated mammals. of these mammals, the human child seems to be the most versatile, and one can only hope that the body parts will consistantly remain compatable with one another, making a beautiful symphony of interchangeable body parts. nature is so beautiful sometimes.

and we all lived happily ever after.
the end.
About this Entry
potatosandwater:
Sep. 27th, 2004 @ 09:52 am (no subject)
a surprise for you
my best friend and only love;
a rat on your bed
About this Entry
I hate myself
squeakykitty:
Sep. 27th, 2004 @ 09:46 am (no subject)
He used to call me on his break every morning at 9:15. It's amazing how quickly a person can become accustomed to something like that. We've been apart now longer than we were together, and even though I was the one who broke it off, I still feel the emptiness every day from 9:15 to 9:25.
About this Entry
I hate myself
squeakykitty: