Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Monday, August 01, 2005

Volcano Hemorrhage

My world is a little bit off kilter this morning. I feel funny. Not funny in a laughing way, but funny like tall people in small cars, dog poop sprinkled with glitter, or a beautiful woman who smells like urine. Eyebrow-raising slightly disturbing quirky type of funny.

I want to write several stories I thought about this past weekend. One is about using the metal guardrail in the center of the highway to self-administer the Heimlich maneuver after getting a watermelon flavored candy stuck in my throat. Another is about a Mormon with a fondness for heavy metal and public masturbation. Another would be about getting depressed and eating hot sun-melted chocolate bars while taking a dump. Lots of good smellplay to work with in that one.

Maybe tomorrow. I really just want to take a nap right now. I spent my weekend abusing drugs I can't afford. I was wiggling my pinkie in my nose on Saturday night while in the throes of a heavy coke binge, and I sliced open my corroded nasal skin. I let the blood run for five minutes onto my hands and wrists before I cleaned myself off and stuffed my nostril with toilet paper. Fortunately the other side of my nose was still in operating condition. I couldn't feel the beer or the bourbon, but I'm pretty sure they put me to sleep around noon on Sunday.

So my blood is weak and diluted today, my synapses are charred, and I have no energy to accomplish something as simple as bending a paperclip out of shape. In addition to this weakened disposition, I have another problem. I thought freezerburned spicy bean burritos would make a good breakfast. Standing in the gas station this morning, I opened the glass freezer door to inhale some chilled vapory air when I spied the spice-o-meter on the plastic wrapper. The cartoon thermometer was bursting, and a spicy pepper was jumping from the exploding mercury atop the illustration. "WARNING! ULTRA-HOT!" it proclaimed. I should've known better.

So instead of writing a clever little story this morning, I'll just ask you to picture a stewpot filled with my cokey clumpy noseblood and the greasy spicy orange foam that's going to boil out of my ass later today.

9:36 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


August 01, 2005 11:09 AM, Blogger Dave Morris said...

First comment!

Good ideas for stories. I could also see you doing justice to a tale about how rabid weasels can sometimes, when left unsedated, do permanent damage to nipples.

Now, back to the qualudes.

August 01, 2005 12:00 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

Yeah, Steve. I get the picture. Will be posting it on your site later today.

August 01, 2005 3:53 PM, Blogger Belldoorlover said...

I know what those cokey nose clump bloody stuff looks like and you almost just made me vomit at my desk.

August 01, 2005 6:02 PM, Blogger if_i_had_a_hammer said...

way more effective than the just say no campaign...

August 01, 2005 8:05 PM, Blogger Lostinspace said...

Thank God I wasn't eating when I read your last couple of lines :)Looking forward to whatever you piece together...

August 01, 2005 8:11 PM, Blogger karen gsteiger said...

As Mr. Mackey says, "Drugs are bad, mmm-kay?"

Remember that it is better that you should write about the cokey clumpy noseblood (surpressing gag reflex as I type that) than deal with it in real life.

Hang in there, and if you have to abuse yourself, masturbate, okay?


August 01, 2005 8:33 PM, Blogger The Everglades said...

Wow, between dumping and binging I can't wait to see the pictures of you burrito-laden shit.


August 02, 2005 2:00 PM, Anonymous sarcastrix said...

i think my senses have been dulled by too many of your disturbing stories, because that image in no way puts me off my food.

time for another pudding!

August 04, 2005 6:46 AM, Blogger Kerouaced said...

By God man take care of yourself...


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