Categories
1995-2000 Other Words

November 29, 1999

Well, today, for a brief flicker of time, I was back in the ghetto. And I am not just talking any ghetto, I am talking about the ghetto where you go outside you hear three things: sirens, the hum of the interstate, and dogs barking. People like to say they live in the ghetto when they see a black person at the outer perimeter of their subdivision. No- I lived IN the ghetto. At my first house, there was only 3 white families in the neighborhood. Then, we moved, and at first, it was largely white, but then steadily my neighbors moved, and black families came in. I am not racially prejudice by any means, at least I don’t think I am. I remember my black neighbors, and we were pretty close to some of them. But as with all races, there people who prefer to keep to themselves, and not be apart of the neighborhood.

Categories
1995-2000 Other Words

November 26, 1999

Well, I haven’t written to Nothing in General for 10 days, nor has anyone else for that matter. Let me give you the run-down of my life since then. Well, I am “grounded until the millennium” because of my own stupidity. I really don’t want to write about that. Last night, I watched Forrest Gump on ABC. That movie is great, and I will always watch it if it’s on. Right now, I am listening to the new Live DMB cd and it’s awesome… That’s all…

Categories
1995-2000 Other Words

November 16, 1999

I am watching Friends, and it is not very funny. Friends is kind of a stupid show, and it pains me to say that it is one of the funniest shows on NBC. But I still don’t like it.

Categories
1995-2000 Poems

“Those Tiny Fingers”

It was in high school that I made the decision to become a writer. My fascination with language was piqued, and I have not been deterred from the love affair since. It was during this time that I first started writing poetry, and I have kept a good bit of that material, most of which is terrible. In finite terms, I was largely concerned with insects and celestial bodies for some reason. I wrote about the soul frequently but rarely achieved any depth. Occasionally, however, an idea flowed from my teenage pen that is worth revisiting and remembering for posterity. Here’s one of them, an image piece, entitled “Those Tiny Fingers.”

Those tiny fingertips
make tiny fists in the air.
The tiny baby shrieks,
for his mother has gone.

I found a few other poems from back then that I still like, so I may post another one later after I’ve done some preliminary polishing.

Categories
1995-2000 Short Stories

Fred

Fred was a car. He wasn’t just any car, he was a Volvo. His daddy was a Volvo, and his daddy’s daddy was a Volvo. If you were a von Auto (that’s their last name), you were a Volvo. There just wasn’t any two ways about it. Unfortunately, Fred was a crappy Volvo. He was an ugly color, he smelled bad, and he liked the taste of gasoline. So Michael, Fred’s user, decided to turn him into a cube. Cubes were appealing and you can easily find the volume of a cube (sł). It’s a pain in the butt to find the volume of a car.

Fred was not one for becoming a cube. He liked roaming the asphalt, the smell of the open road, and the feel of freshly filled tank (He also liked to gawk at the sexy Mustangs, but that’s another story). In order to prevent any permanent geometric disfiguement, Fred ran away. He ran as far as his shoddy, low-on-air tires would carry him. Fred ran all the way to Between, Georgia.

On his way out to the city that time forgot, Fred was exposed to terrible trials and battles. His first such encounter occurred when he was driving and accidently ran over a deceased mole. Fred continued on merry way; and then it happened. He heard a little squeaking sound coming from underneath him. He was being attacked by rabid moles! Morrocco, the leader mole, enslaved Fred and gave him 12 tasks:

  1. Free the moles that are in servitude in Spain.
  2. Find the lost rodent. It was rumored to last be found in Upper Mongolia.
  3. Take over a small island nation and have as your main export prickly pears.
  4. Drink the fluid from a lava lamp.
  5. Discover a new planet.
    6.Manage to get a plant named after you.
  6. Disprove Mendel’s law of independent assortment.
  7. Go “free-ballin'” for three weeks.
  8. Form a religious cult based on spider monkeys.
  9. Be a New York Times best seller.
  10. Write a text book.
  11. Be a five time Jeopardy champion.

Fred was at a loss. After all, he was a car! A lousy car, at best. He couldn’t do any of these things. Fred had to think of a plan and fast. What he did next will be recorded in all the record books as an uncanny feat executable only by souls of great cunning or vast cowardice…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Sucks doesn’t it? Oh well, stay tuned for next week’s exciting installment.

  • Michael, that guru