The Sock-Monkey As Alone

"please allow me to introduce myself."                                               - Mick Jagger, Sympathy for the Devil. “Here is the church and here is the steeple We sure are cute for two ugly people."                                               - the Moldy Peaches The hot stink of a fresh cancer stick, or, the exhilarating taste of a shot of the IQ enhancing salvation we call jack daniels. All fail in comparison to the delirium-inducing salvation of having a mature woman who knows what she is doing, slowly and with self-assurance suck your cock. This irrational joy is only enhanced when it is with a beautiful stranger who in your own words is "out of your league." What the hell is with this creepy digression into one writers "oral fixation" (I get a boner every time my therapist says those two words.) Well, I am clinging to meaning and reaching here but, as far I can tell we live in a society that idealizes consumerism. While I am her

"If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about the answers." -Thomas Pynchon. "Aesthetic erectile dysfunction, for which there has yet to be invented a viagra." - Tom Robbins. "you don't need viagra to go fuck yourself," I said that, though I am still unsure as to what it means. Though I can say it has very little to do with masturbation, and that it still makes me laugh to this day. As a matter of fact, after reading what I have typed to this point, I said aloud "that is pathetically funny."    The bed bugs are keeping me company; one is smoking a cigarette after drinking my blood. swelled to the size of a softball and telling me I am the one with a weight problem "you have a point, but I am still cleaning, so they can come and kill you." I say defiantly. "why are you typing what you say after you say it, hey quit staring at the computer and talk to me." says the bed bug which goe

 "Rocketry may not be my True Will, but it's one hell of a powerful drive. With Thelema as my goal and the stars my destination and my home, I have set my eyes on high."   -   John Whiteside "Jack" Parsons Silly as a novelty rockabilly tune playing off the iPod on the way to church. He has given up on turning his new found life as a rag doll into an Elizabethan tragedy. Rumple was in his button eyes not only brilliant but divine, though he felt that those were not characteristic that would get him anywhere in this world.  "words are not my thing." he thought. "no I think I will give up on that dream of walking side by side with Jesus all my sins washed away. And instead will except I am a sinner looking only for redemption and will look dutifully for the next, attractive place in these quite godforsaken woods and lay down and call it home till I am saved or till every fiber of me is rotten away. " it was a scheme he hoped this display of devo

“In my life so far, I have discovered that there are really only two kinds of people: those who are for you, and those who are against you." - Lemmy Kilmister. Talking heads - once in a lifetime, was playing. The old house, offensive boards and chipping paint. Windows open a small ghost was dancing (he seems to like doing that.) Jumping back and forth on the ground in front of the bed, as Jolene Irish, paints her toenails if only to fight an image she has cultivated from the age of four.     She is walking into the room wearing pajamas that displayed Grover from sesame street on them. Uplifted hand showing the snail she plucked off the porch to her "momma" (said in a slow southern drawl). Then being told "no bad Jojo" (yes her mom really did address the little girl like a pet poodle) and Jolene defiant, with the crooked haircut her mom had given her. Pulled back and softball pitched the snail so hard it splattered on the kitchen wall.    "Yeah, I got in tr

17 "There is no such thing as a weird human being. It's just that some people require more understanding than others." - Tom Robbins. God - "So what is your story? Why are you so down on me. Don't come to me with that you know everything jive.  One of us is unnecessary information, and the other one is being very understanding. Now, if you want we can turn this into an arm wrestling championship, but who do you think, is going to take the belt home?" Drew Freak - "I have always wanted to be a writer but now that I am here the whole question for me is that of 'what does that make me to my fiction?' what about my diagnosis? Are my childish attempts at literature good if measured against the things stacked against me? The mental illness in me wants to scream 'well if you don't believe I have that paranoid schizophrenia then here is another acid trip of a digression' while another part of me thinks it is fun to lie an

"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."                                                                  - Hunter s. Thompson Wearing a green "card dealer" visor (the words spelled out on the front), Orange metal-framed glasses, and camel unfiltered plugged into a cigarette holder (smoked more for the status that comes with having a high dollar cigarette than any love of the flavor) in a random corner of my mouth. I was on the rainbow road driving a plastic wheeled (toy) pink jeep in heaven looking for the Christian dream. Hopped up on acorns, dead leaves and whatever I find on the ground. I advocate mood stabilizers when dealing with a confrontation of faith. My faith is in the shotgun I found sitting in the purple plastic seat of the loyal car I have named, lovingly "molested catfish." The shotgun has become my friend he does the illustration for the article you are reading. Some would call him a second rate Burroughs as he shoots ballons full r

Once you have been down a rabbit hole, once you have chased the rabbit, you never feel safe. Through the looking glass of wonderland, there is doubt and fear of every voice other than your own.     "why did you cut your hair?" said Liam, "I think I am a lesbian," said Jolene. Liam thought he had not crossed a line so much as was drug across it kicking and screaming. Quitting the conversation he left her alone.     She was muscle, bone, and skin, though not as tall as she looked. The alien in her eyes was confidence. Desperate as it was alive, her ego could cope with the loss. Knowing that no story ends but it will go away for a time. It will be someone else and their story as long as it is there's, but sometimes when your lucky the roles you love come back for you to play.    "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win."  she put her phone down, she had forgotten who had said it and was surprised it was

"Censors tend to do what only psychotics do: they confuse reality with illusion."  - David Cronenberg It is all so much fire and brimstone "forgiveness." Kicking and screaming, out of your mother's belly. "hey kid, you know what you need? you need some of that 'forgiveness.'" Than holding you, he (your father). Punches you in the face, singeing nursery rhymes of "crying won't help you praying won't do you no good!" But it's the drums that are coming out of your mother. The driving beat of when the levee breaks and the baby thinks "oh boy. oh boy." Though cool thieves were they worthy of worship? Am I creative? "Is my name my own...well the point of this is, you know?" Drew is trying to explain the book    "well we're not interested, you know? It is of our opinion you should seek professional help" "I have been in therapy for five years. I think I am fine." "demented, delusio

13 "Disillusioned in the world I have woken up to, so will I venture to make for myself a home." Rumple was walking the rainbow road looking for New Jerusalem. Hoping to catch the shadow of the lighthouse, also called: sanctuary. Floating over the holly hollow woods covering the New Earth, it had been a day or so and he already regretted the expedition.    The woods were "spooky," and there was nowhere to rest. Over the rainbow road, you could see the shifting dead trees, with a face one moment, then a regular dead tree the next. "They" however were always watching waiting with ancient gods and demons fighting up through the roots of the lawyers of law rats and their grand inquisition to drag you kicking and screaming down to the place where the monsters sleep in a huddle before there father: who is imprisoned. All if you don't stick to the rainbow road.    The rainbow road was its own sanctuary. So named because every brick was different shade

12                                         ***     I                                     solve Post-modernism: the deconstruction of        an irony for its own sake. Walking through the stars as if inside of a football. So she was still alive, seventeen, and confused, frustrated, no, dissolving in the trinity of juxtaposed verbs. Her hair was short and naturally spiked like dunes of sand. Jolene Irish, "am I a lesbian?" she thought "how selfish of me, he is gone damned and at the very least dead to the known world. Like some fish belly up so rotten and bloated the seagulls won't eat it.  Poisoned? By Toxins? No, I am fine. I just have not been this high in a long while."     Majoun: a strong hashish confection was eating away at her problems and her delusions of separation from creation. The fudge, though quickly ate, was slow to restore her to god.  Words were separate from her alive like fish poisoned and dissolving from it. They were not her but of

God, is disappointed, at the state of his creatures "God created man in his own image." The way they ignore him is confusing. "Yeah, that guy! who screamed what he called 'righteous Jazz' lighting hit the stage, and he was one of the few who didn't survive it (if you catch my drift.)" Then God thinking about why did he make that guy say what he said? "God is a homosexual serial killer!" that is what he said before I fried him. The guy had this whole delusional, insane act of acting passages from the newspaper Jeffery Dommer did, this was followed a faux-homosexual voice (at least what he thought of a faux-queer voice) saying "and it was a sweet snack, and a savory treat for the lord." with every incantation of a syllable the comedian would snarl his nose, tilt his head like a lion yawning and enjoy the dead zebra.    And the guy would end his act every night with a monolog the end of which is "So then, then when you get down to i

   "don't you know that God is Pooh Bear?"                                                      -Jack Kerouac It's really funny watching them both                                      walk down the street together. My opinions are that of projection, resistance, and overuse of                   the middle finger. "so what?" you say.  Making me seem so goddamn over the top melodramatic.  "Well?" you continue.   You will be left disappointed because I am tired of honesty. What I need to say is ironically not so passive aggressive.   Drowning in the tears of the absurd. Twisted and calculating, I don't want any more responsibility.  Let me die in front of a typewriter to drunk to remember what I wrote. Too stoned to worry about brain damage.   So full of bullshit my poems quit reading like prose. So ashamed I learn self-control.   But, let it be clear when I am dead.  I resisted myself to the very end.   Remembering that time you put a gun to my h

                             8 Racoon eyes, hole through the center of his face and a translucent color that was a green that looked like it was persuading you to think it was blue. He thought about what he was to do, and the disappearance of his dear friend Alex Addison.   He was only one of many shifting guests, mourning the loss of an innocent who seemed only to find suffering.     The disappearance of the heart and the host dies, however, the Addison family was a perverse corpse that refused death.  Lumbering with stumbling hatred at any thought of Jolene.  (She stayed away from the funeral for she had brought the book the one the had summoned Tngocs, the penguin who was king of the wasteland. The penguin who survived the nuclear winter.  The great cold one of the Sarcastic-Hallelluagha.)     Alex's clan had a wake that the little ghost haunted like the nobility of England clung to the British isle. He listened to stories frustrated and ashamed that they had no faith in h

Part one: the prelude to a ghost.                                   1 It was early summer in the late afternoon.  Liam was visiting the father who had done the best he could to avoid the child. His grandmother left him having died of cancer earlier in the year and in the child's eyes she had abandoned him there with her son.  No one understood Liam's father not even Jack (Liam's father's name, or at least what he insisted his son call him.) and that terrified the child.     Without much to go on Jack said "So here are the rules, one, you cannot close any of the doors in this house. Two, you may not open any of the doors in this house that is already closed.  If you do either of these things, I will light your ass up, understood?" Liam nodded slowly and thought without out trying to give any of his feelings away "Shit this is going to be a long summer." But he had not done his job well enough for his father stared at him long and hard before saying &q