Hello everybody!
1
And now is my quest for crickets; to feed my roommate's exotic toads. My roommate with the pet toads, Andy, is out of town for quite some time now. The toads live in a terrarium. The crickets used to stay in a plexiglass box with chopped up egg cartons to hide in. I've been charged with the task of shaking live crickets out of crumpets of cardboard into the dank and dismal toad realm. There are two of them, black and oily looking, with eyelids that blink upwards. Their feeding habits are horrible and entertaining. They are supposed to live in Southeast Asia, but the toads wound up in Andy's room, whom, as I mentioned, has been out of town on important business far longer than the new cardboard box crammed with live insects has lasted. Someone has to make sure these adorable pets don't starve to death!
Crickets are sold in boxes such as one you would mail a VCR tape in . Crammed! The store that sells terrarium/aquarium feed and supply was fucking closed today. I walked a long way(had to pee behind a dumpster) to find another shop possibly selling VCR boxes crammed with crickets. They were also closed. This meant a long walk home. "Oh bother!" I exclaim to myself, "What an odd thing to shop for on this blustery day."
Today I went back, on my bike this time, to the cricket store. They were open this time. Various simple animals were for sale in all directions. A very fat lady with large kind eyes behind large eyeglasses hunched behind the counter., I thought, toadishly. A paper bag from jackinthebox quietly bled grease at her ample, purlooned something of an elbow. She inquired mildly whatever employees in empty webby-finny stores intone to an arriving unfamiliar afternoon customer. "I would like a box of crickets, please. "
I ride my bicycle with a backpack crammed with cricket song.
2
Consider the word "procrastinate." Can one "anticrastinate", or just "crastinate"?
3
If there is a crazy person on the city bus, and I happen to board this bus , usually the crazy person will be next to me. Or in a bar or anywhere. I assure you of this. A few days ago I met(upon the last bus of the evening) a fellow that claimed to be an ex-astronaut.
"Why did you quit man?"
"The hamburgers are all served cold out there. Really cold. That's why." He answered this quite stoicly on the bus and too loudly. I reply, bus groaning along, Kafka book in my lap, " Yeah they sent me to Saturn once." My fellow passenger's eyes widen in demented glee as he whips his wizened batshitcrazy countenance my way. "Really?"
"Yep. But I only got to hang out on the rings. They wouldn't let me in on the planet. " The crazy man guffaws. "Bummer man!"
There is this lady often on the bus that wears a Santa Claus hat constantly, even during sultry summer morns. She is a sweet-natured old crone. Batshitcrazy. The bus crone says her apartment is haunted by ghosts that raid her fridge. Genuinely interested, I ask, "Well what do the ghosts steal from your refrigerator?"
"Mostly cheese," she says.
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deciduous chalcedonic sphagnum frottage
5
Who decides what music wafts from shopping malls? Who gets to choose the tunes, burn it to a CD and have it wafting all day? Does each mall have its own DJ or is there a national control base distributing the music we hear in any mall?
I want this guy's job!
At cocktail parties... "I coordinate the background music for most of the malls in the Southwest." Hot chick replies, sipping a martini, "Oh how fascinating. Any bennies in your field?"
"Oh yes", I say, draining a stemmed glass of Polish vodka and smashing it into the fireplace, "I get lots of free Michael Bolton t-shirts. "
"Exquisite!" says the hot chick, suggestively sucking the garlic clove stuffed in the olive in her drink. "Do tell more!"
"To say the playlist has to be upbeat would be redundant," I say, gently wincing and sighing at a pull at my new glass of scotch, like Bill Murray would, "The aesthetic leans to insanely upbeat- you got your Phil Collins, Cyndi Lauper, Huey Lewis. Hmmm. You got your Hooty and the Blowfish, Journey, Lionel Ritchie(at peak hours) Maria Carey, Beyonce, Bon Jovi, and of course, Michael Bolton. Essentially the aesthetics are along those lines. "
"So that's why I always feel chirpy when I leave the mall!" the chick chirps, head cocked and wide-eyed, masticating the olive.
"Beats diggin ditches." The scotch glass careens into the fireplace, as throughout the ballroom bemused eyebrows are raised.
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The largest animal on the planet, the blue whale, feeds only on plankton, one of the tiniest animals, and the clam, a mollusk, I think, can outlive any leviathan. Even more diminutive than krill is yeast, a distinctive life form to itself. I'm enjoying a pint of yeast shit- otherwise known as beer- and sometimes my thoughts are like the flukes of a whale bursting from the deep to slap the surface of the ocean.
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-or a brand-new blog. I will always be a vagabond(among other things, but tis a potent frame of reference). I stir into this blog stuff both profound, inane, or insane. My objective is TO NEVER BE BORING and hopefully my audience are all misfits of a sort(literacy helps). Overmore, bitches, you will never hear Sports opinions or political comments from
- Gustopher The Addled
