tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79237235762201049902024-03-12T15:56:40.914-07:00Tickling the BarkSire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-76245275257875261152013-11-22T09:47:00.002-08:002013-11-22T09:47:57.022-08:00PhD "Hiatus"I've been writing. I've just been writing academic papers. It's been great, a trial, a triumph, time consuming. I am currently in my 3rd semester as a PhD student (Rhetorics, Communication and Information Design @ Clemson U.) and am initiating the freak-out mode for paper writing.<br />
<br />
However, this may answer, "why is she even posting?" (and don't answer procrastination, although you may be partially correct) - one of my projects will be a short story. One of which I started thinking about the beginning of the semester, and I'm happy to see where it's going - it's a fictional account of some of the things I've been struggling with in building my own profession, both for the profession, and being a woman (not just dealing with minor discrimination, but rather my own feelings of limitation). I'm calling it "Bridge Walking" for the main theme of the absurd amount of walking I do over bridges wherever I've lived. Not sure if I'll be trying to turn this into an iBook kinda thing with pictures and widgets considering the time allowed, but I might consider that for later...Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-56587284660190139782012-04-05T15:23:00.001-07:002012-04-05T15:23:59.991-07:00Flash Fiction<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Drunk, she files her taxes in April while
whistling a song from St. Pattrick’s day by a musician she can’t get out of her
mind. </span></div>Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-31909066218526332632011-09-20T08:04:00.001-07:002011-09-20T08:04:40.026-07:00Hiring DiplomacyI treat you nicely <br />
while you treat me like <br />
a piece of paper.<br />
I wait for your response and answer with a smile<br />
while you figure out what to say or tell me the way it is<br />
about delegating pedantic everyday routines <br />
that must be followed <br />
to a T.<br />
<br />
I nod my head. I know my place. <br />
<br />
I want to lunge at you and growl, “Give me a job!”<br />
I am frustrated that I have to <br />
ask for an everyday routine <br />
that asks for no more head work <br />
than the formatting of my thesis. <br />
<br />
But my anxiety outweighs my pride,<br />
so I know my place.<br />
<br />
You make me wait <br />
to hear from you <br />
for two weeks.<br />
My thesis committee made me wait <br />
four.<br />
You make me pay attention to asking repetitive<br />
repetitive questions<br />
In order to have the proper <br />
paperwork filled out.<br />
I had to explain a different discipline to my committee in multiple rewrites.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Stepping back, <br />
my own ferocity <br />
surprises and saddens.<br />
I never knew <br />
I had this in me. <br />
<br />
But then, I also have the will to ask, <br />
<br />
Do you want fries with that?<br />
<br />
Because at this time, <br />
I know my place.Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-65442123976094564292011-09-19T11:05:00.000-07:002011-09-19T11:05:04.797-07:00Query for readers:I originally set up this blog to be a resource for those who wished to dabble in reading an Elrick piece. However, I have since become interested in moving towards an actual website, or at least posting more often than when I have a piece in progress. If there are any comments about this, let me know on here or Facebook.Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-33959386621419801062011-08-10T07:04:00.000-07:002011-08-10T07:04:54.342-07:00No Patience for Poetry(republished from <i>Euphemism</i>, Illinois State University's creative online journal)<br />
<br />
The only reason I like Descartes<br />
Is because he has a short catch-phrase.<br />
“I think, therefore I am.”<br />
Boom.<br />
Philosophy,<br />
in a nutshell.<br />
Poetry requires more than thinking.<br />
Like, feeling.<br />
Then you have to interpret feeling.<br />
Then finding out how complicated those feelings are<br />
And were they come from<br />
Inside yourself, outside yourself, located in time,<br />
the way it connects, disconnects, builds and destroys ideas and concepts…<br />
All in the expanse of the words of the poem, which may even be shorter than<br />
“I think, therefore I am.”<br />
Supposedly the way Descartes’ great epiphany is all greatness of Man’s ideas,<br />
confined<br />
To a point.<br />
A finite point which encompasses everything, and everything can be built on it.<br />
But it requires no feeling and reduced the complexity of life and analysis of it<br />
To a point.<br />
Yet a poem rips that concept a new one.<br />
<br />
Farther back in philosophy, there’s Plato.<br />
Plato hated poets. <br />
Yet his language is just as complex and beautiful, it has meaning that<br />
Betrays his feelings, while he tries<br />
to make his Socrates pull out that kind of<br />
Finity.<br />
To suggest these philosopher’s were devoid of feeling or that their works<br />
Could be reduced to that kind of a point is<br />
Point-<br />
less.<br />
<br />
Yet at the same time, that is what they attempt to convince us of in Absolutism.<br />
Which unfortunately creates the system of false duality,<br />
the “something is” or “it isn’t” dilemma,<br />
the troubled idea of, you’re with us or against us.<br />
There is concentrated hatred in that finity.<br />
Yet in that order of finity<br />
There is a wish to make things<br />
Simplier.<br />
Less complex.<br />
Bring life to a point.<br />
Or find the point in life.<br />
Poetry unleashes the magnitude of that finity<br />
A scary, lovely, saddening, maddening, fanatic-inducing, desire-producing<br />
Point.<br />
Which is secretly devoured by the absolutist philosophers,<br />
“romantics” at heart.<br />
Or those with a heart to begin with,<br />
which they often wish to forget is there<br />
by thinking.<br />
An escapist point, this contained yet created bundle of energy,<br />
which through thinking about it we become outsiders from it, detached<br />
As philosophers, observers that Other ourselves outside the chaos contained.<br />
<br />
So then there is my lack of patience for the expansion of that finity.<br />
While I am simultaneously and constantly allured<br />
by that which does not make sense<br />
in that chaos-filled<br />
point,<br />
That driving curiosity which makes me analyze the passions of this world in so many ways that absolutism limits<br />
Far too greatly by suggesting there is only<br />
a line of logic<br />
and a way to refute it,<br />
but I should not necessarily see the connections in their full glory of multi-dimensions.<br />
This is because of the already explained<br />
point.<br />
Instead, memorize the point,<br />
hell, you can even analyze the point, but know<br />
that point is all there is, there are no<br />
lay-<br />
ers<br />
which cannot be explained away<br />
by thinking.<br />
<br />
My lack of patience is because of my having been trained<br />
to think, therefore I am pointed.<br />
However, when I try to read poetry or then attempt to feel, according to absolutists,<br />
these deniers of the heart,<br />
I am undeniably<br />
missing the point.Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-17304417738870780802011-07-22T00:48:00.000-07:002011-07-22T00:48:23.269-07:00One Occident, Two Orients: or How the Middle East was One(Awful title, I know. But it was a pet project for a class a few years ago. Enjoy it's age. :)<br />
<br />
Copyright © Kathy Elrick 2005<br />
<br />
<br />
Rabin (70) – Medium build, white hair, slightly haggard but tough looking, official. Slightly Russian accent, eastern European influence of speech on broken English. Israeli Prime Minister.<br />
<br />
Arafat (63) – Shorter frame, scraggly beard, that crazy bed-sheet hat and tunic type dress. Mixture of Arabian and French sounding accent (Egyptian) for broken English short, staccato. Leader of Palestinian Liberation Organization. <br />
<br />
Bush (46)- Possibly tallest one of the bunch. Hesitant in speech, slight southern twang, seems like he tries his words out and sees how they fit. Dressed in business attire. Occupation – general managing partner of Texas Rangers and aspiring politico.<br />
<br />
Setting: Classroom in Northern Jordan, or neutral country just outside of Israel. Late 1992.<br />
<br />
Special Note:<br />
Yitzhak Rabin has been a part of Israel’s military history since this nation of conflict was created by the United Nations in the mid 1940’s. Yasser Arafat like-wise has been a part of the Palestinian effort to find peace between the two cohabitants of this small country. Rabin was assassinated in 1995, almost 3 years after this ficticous scene takes place, but not before he and Yasser Arafat shook hands over the Oslo accords in 1993, which both men received the Nobel Peace price for their efforts at trying to establish a lasting cease-fire between the two peoples. At the time this play takes place, the first Intifada was drawing to a close, the Palestinian’s non-violent rebellion against unstable Israeli troops who would aggressively try to break the will of the Palestinians. Rabin was a respected leader of the Israeli people who tried negotiations while generals like Arial Sharon and Rabin’s party opponent Perez constantly made problems for Rabin and Palestinians. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
(Lights up on classroom setting. Yasser Arafat is sitting at a desk with his chin on his fist looking bored. Rabin opens door/enters room.) <br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Yasser Arafat? (Outrage.) What right you have to be here?!<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
A diplomat’s. But with a greeting like that, I’d be happy to be a spectator.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
But why are you here? In dis building?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
I have meeting. Why are you here?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
At 2 o’clock, I have meeting. Hm. (Deflating, confused.) I don’t understand how Minister Arens would have missed an oversight like dis.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Perhaps Peres was an influence. (Friendly laugh.) Personally, I always thought he liked your wife more than allegations of overseas bank scandal let on. <br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Somewhat coldly.) I will not humor such a subject. If I must wait here, backstabbing needs to be kept to minimum.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Quieting down.) It wasn’t meant out of meanness, I was only kidding. If you have to wait, sit, wait.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Dis sis a horrible way to meet. (Distractedly sits.) I was hoping eef the day came we met face to face, there would be more of a celebratory undertone at least.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
I have some candy in my pocket. It’s no feast, but perhaps it could be peace offering.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Laughs gently.) Perhaps. What kind ez eet?<br />
<br />
(Bush enters.)<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
Wha-? Well, hello. I wasn’t expecting to find anybody in this room.<br />
Arafat<br />
Mr. Bush? This is a surprise. What brings you to this side of the world?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
I was wondering if you would come, or not.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
He’s the person you’re meeting with?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
No, but my aides have told me recently about the American elections. And what President Bush’s ambassadors have been doing lately. Even though he lost re-election.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Points to Bush in disbelief.)<br />
He’s an ambassador!?<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
No, not technically. But I am here on business of that kind. Goodwill, peace, hope for a better tomorrow. Even though it woulda probably been easier to convey these feelings having won the election.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
You mean, your father winning the election.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
(sideways glance) Of course. <br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
But why are you here, in dis region? I hear you were supposed be meeting with your father’s friend, the prince of Saud.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
I will get to that before I go back to America. But first I wanted to have a talk, some time with the leaders of Lebanon and Jordan. See how they are and whatnot.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Why Lebanon?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
It is perplexing as to why you would be interested in them Mr. Bush, but as for you Prime Minister Rabin, is that your 2 o’clock appointment?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Dat is none of your concern.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Oh you bet your favorite Yarmulke it is. I half bin trying to see anybody from the Lebanese government for last two months! (Pounds fist.) Do you know how hard it is for my staff to even get bread to eat because of such wishy-washy politics?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Eet eez far better for your people than concentration camps and hundreds of years persecution!<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Hundreds of years, try thousands, foreigner!<br />
<br />
(Rabin strangles Arafat.)<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
(Appalled.) Gentlemen! <br />
<br />
(Arafat starts to strangle Rabin.)<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
You two! Stop it, stop it right now, this instant!<br />
(Pulls them apart successfully, both Arafat and Rabin panting and rubbing throats.)<br />
I’m amazed at such behavior from foreign heads of state.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
The way the press has told our relationship, I am surprised we held off this long.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
But press ees not always right. As for how they blew up what Perez said about my wife.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
You mean, that... that bank scandal wasn’t true?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Quickly.) I never said dat. I meant how they took Perez’s side furst and sensationalized eet.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
It’s the Press. What do you expect? They aren’t going to understand politicians. They’ll never put us, people fighting for the very people such a medium as the press sends a message to, into a very good light. I have scales of stories about run-ins I’d rather forget.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Sometimes you can use those to your advantage... But most often, not.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Tiredly.) But such character attacks... They should be stopped. They get in way of progress between governments. Thankfully I was able to still keep my people after the attack from Perez, but... Eet ees not right. <br />
<br />
Bush<br />
But don’tcha see? It’s not completely them, it’s the groups controlling them. The people you see on the screen is just puppets. They’re just obstacles in the course we set for ourselves as people trying to make a difference.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Such an American trait. It is so optimistic of you! You think you can change the world, when the world changes faster than you can imagine. No matter who you are, the changes you make can be swallowed up like that! (Snaps.)<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Here we face dat reality. It makes one grow older faster, but wiser sooner. There is death at our doorstep and no where to turn that would not try to take advantage of you first.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
So this is the attitude you come to conferences with. It’s no wonder you never find resolution, you aren’t even trying to look for it! Why did you become politicians in the first place if you felt this way? That nothing you did would count?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Better in the government dan be squashed by it.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Chuckles.) Good one.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
Wrong! That’s the lamest excuse for using Darwinism I’ve heard yet! <br />
(Bush pauses, others confused, mumbling.)<br />
Don’t you see the possibilities a government holds for helping the people you serve?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
But our government doesn’t work the same on the inside.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
That I do understand. But if you two are even going to say you’re into the Socialism government you are a part of, at least acknowledge its primary principals of proletary-at. If you don’t have people, you have nothing to govern! So if death knocks at your door, take the power that’s been bestowed upon you and try and do something with it! But if you just let things pass you by, you might as well be trampled under foot like the people you aren’t helping. These days you shouldn’t stand if you don’t know where it is you are!<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Pauses, stunned.) I... have no good quick comeback for that one.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
How about, why didn’t the chicken cross de road?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Because he was chicken.<br />
<br />
(Bush and Arafat snicker.)<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Quietly.) Do you ever watch Tom and Jerry?<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
(Confused.) Well, not recently, but I have.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Disgustedly confused.) Are you talking about de Cartoon?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
But of course.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Why do you bring dem up?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Because I like their humor.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
Ok....<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
I was trying to establish some common ground in the midst of lightheartedness. If anyone else liked Tom and Jerry, then we could all have a good laugh.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Arrogantly.) But what if I didn’t know who dey were? What then? I would be left out of the cordiality. That wouldn’t bring about any comfortable peace talks, now would it?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
I was just trying to share something. (Aside.) Not that anybody likes it when I bring up Tom and Jerry. But why not? They’re hilarious. Cat and mouse, always chasing each other. Friendly one moment, killing each other the next, what’s not to like? It’s a universal constant...<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
How’s that?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Is nothing.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
I agree with Mr. Bush, dis ees a day to try to renew the fundamental bond between peoples, and look back only to help the future. <br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Thought strikes him and he slowly smiles.)<br />
For some reason I recall feeling this way before I met my wife about a woman I once dated who moved around the political circles. She was a beautiful woman, Jewish background.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Surprised.) You would date an Israeli?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
I would, but she said she would not marry me. It was not because I was Palestinian. That was her father’s excuse. She said she couldn’t imagine growing old with me, I... She didn’t care for my looks.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
Ouch.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
By any chance do you remember her name?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Camile Goldenstein. Why do you ask?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Smirks.) I had a hunch. I dated the same woman. <br />
<br />
Arafat & Bush<br />
No.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Yes. I think most everybody near the Mediterranean did. Eet turned out, she would not marry me, or anybody else in Israel either. She ended up marrying an Eastern Orthodox dentist. She was considered a disgrace to her parents, even though she did make it tru a concentration camp.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
Now that’s beyond tough love.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Wincing, nods.) I agree.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
A woman like that reminds me of the old days... When I knew what I wanted. Perhaps you have something with your philosophy dere, Mr. Bush. I tink maybe age can cloud judgment a little. You remember 1948 Yasser?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
But of course. It was a great time to feel a part of what we truly believed in. To feel important among others, a founding point of leadership. That was one of the most exciting times of my early career.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
It was a war, of course it was exciting. All the noise, the constant stream of people around you... But it was different from now. People, individuals were more important. Life was a treasure.<br />
But war should not really be glorified... (Reluctantly sighs.) It splits people apart as much as it brings them together. <br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
It’s true. And young people are also foolish and do stupid things because they think they will live through even the most frightening things.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
I agree with you dere. (Laughing.) Hoo boy... I remember going over to enemy camp and stealing towels and clothing from the showers.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
(Cuts in.) That’s nothing. After a Yale-Princeton game, in the heat of the moment I helped pull down a goal post. You know how much one of those things cost to replace? It was a nightmare!<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Completely serious.) You want a nightmare, I’ll tell you a nightmare. Israeli troops coming after you and your family in the middle of the night. Unless you are Jewish, there is no justice, only judgment. That’s what 1948 proved.<br />
<br />
(Rabin starts choking Arafat again. Bush still reminiscing about college.)<br />
Bush<br />
I know that I didn’t quite have the same experience as either one of you, but being young can be...<br />
<br />
(Arafat makes gagging noises, Bush notices)<br />
<br />
Jumpin’ Jehosaphat’s! What the?!<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Gasping.) You provoke more than you are worth!<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Strained.) Yet you still choke me as I were a threat!<br />
<br />
(Bush pulls the two apart again. Rabin throws punch at Bush, misses. Bush bum rushes him to chair. Arafat tries to grab for Rabin, Bush punches Arafat. Arafat falls back into a desk/chair.)<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
So this is what you call American foreign policy?<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
It’s what’s called taking care of childish behavior.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Resigned.) He ees right. Dis sis what it all comes down to. Why do you tink talks get postponed for so long and bombing campaigns start? <br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Like the one in September against innocent Palestinians-<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Cuts Arafat off.)<br />
Tempers flare up more easily dan they should. But de pressure is high. So many people are counting on us.<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
This is why you don’t crack under pressure. But if one does, you ask for help. Not tear the other apart. You made it this far, but if it was by negotiating this way, with feet in mouth, than I think your system of government needs a bigger overhaul than we originally thought. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
But your government is barely any better than what you have seen us do in here today. I look at images of McCarthism and shudder. I look at the Cold War and wonder about civilized systems of government. I look at how President Carter could barely try to talk with foreign leaders, and even though President Nixon was brilliant with foreign policy, at home he made a fool out of himself, no worse than what you have just seen. We may have our problems, we may do things that make women and small children gape in disbelief. But for a country that has prided itself in high morals, you just deny what is always there. America, you are no different than us.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Welcome to politics.<br />
<br />
(Bush uncomfortable and defensive, slightly fidgety.)<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
(Relaxing.) So. What do you want to do with your title as the son of an American President? Do you want to go farther?<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Did you not try for a seat in Congress a while ago?<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
(Guardedly.) Yes...<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
I only ask because of your enthusiasm. You have an amazing energy for which many possibilities could still be open to you.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
It takes a strong person to rise up out of conflict and break tru de noise of naysayers. Yet it also takes a wise man to listen when he would rather not. We say what we have said out of de prophecy of yesterday, but also so that for dose who wish to make it, will try harder.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
So. (To Bush.) Do you wish to stay in the game?<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
(Blinks.) I uh... I... I do believe in a better tomorrow, and I have thought of continuing to try for that spot as Governor of Texas.<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Wonderful!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
Yeah... (Stronger.) Yeah. I guess I feel a little out of my league so far. I mean, I wanted to be in Congress, badly enough to go through loosing an election over it. I really enjoyed helping my dad back in ’88.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
Do you think you may ever try for a higher position?<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
Like?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
President?<br />
<br />
Bush<br />
(Smiles.) Who knows? The times we have now is changing...<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
(Looks at watch.)<br />
Yitzhak, your meeting. It was for 2 o’clock, correct?<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Oh. Right. I must go. <br />
<br />
(Rabin and Arafat stand.) <br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
Good luck to you Mr. Bush, in life, and politics.<br />
(Rabin starts to exit, Arafat coughs expectantly. Rabin turns enough to face Arafat.)<br />
To you Arafat I say, maybe again sometime we shall try to make amends.<br />
<br />
Arafat<br />
I would be most grateful. You seem a good man, with a good... grip. (Strokes neck.)<br />
<br />
Rabin<br />
At least you know I am not wishy-washy. (Smiles, exit.)Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-47863325190068371432011-06-20T15:40:00.001-07:002011-06-20T15:40:50.824-07:00Specters and the Ambiguous Non-Relationship StringWe see <br />
what we want to <br />
in our momentary mates.<br />
Be it a good fuck, someone to talk to, someone to share fantasies with, <br />
or merely the time.<br />
<br />
We get so much meaning out of that, it hurts <br />
to be left on a thin spider’s string, <br />
tight-roping across the void of the unspoken.<br />
<br />
FWB, they say too late. <br />
Time has passed, and ambiguity couples up, <br />
creating a new ménage a trios, playing with the mind <br />
of the uncertain participant, the one who is left out of the… <br />
Fucked. Not past tense.<br />
<br />
“Friends” become suspicious and conniving. <br />
If I don’t tell him this, perhaps he will <br />
spend more time with me, tell me things, open up, be himself. <br />
Why is he not himself before that? <br />
What is holding him back-<br />
Rephrase that. What is holding me back?<br />
<br />
The rebound. <br />
For both. <br />
It’s his, but it becomes my burden. <br />
Don’t tamper with damaged goods.<br />
<br />
What good is that? <br />
<br />
I restrain, refrain, refine what is said, <br />
allow what isn’t said <br />
To fester, pester, mutilate my sense of trust. In me. <br />
<br />
I have yet to love. <br />
<br />
But I love me. <br />
Yet, I do not know <br />
how to love myself and <br />
another, that is a threesome that is difficult to orchestrate.<br />
My self becomes angry <br />
that I have neglected her, <br />
that I forget what we had been angry about<br />
long before the ambiguous string was cut <br />
and we fall not into the unspoken void,<br />
But into a flashing world of anger, <br />
the mine field.<br />
<br />
Never trust a ghost<br />
<br />
the field screams. Don’t allow me to be forsaken <br />
for the sake of a specter. <br />
Ambiguity is more than two-faced, and takes away my <br />
saving face. A fall from grace, <br />
without place. <br />
Another void – <br />
a spiral of hell:<br />
my own.<br />
<br />
No love to be found. <br />
<br />
I scream – <br />
<br />
Ambiguity be damned!Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-17686673037563052232011-03-08T11:24:00.001-08:002011-03-08T11:24:12.679-08:00DC BiddiesSpring 2011 in Washington DC. Thelma (55), Tanya (45) and Sarah (62) visit their federal representative in the Longworth building. Since they are from McClean County, IL, they are touring the capital while also supporting Tanya, who is there for an informal interview with their representative’s office.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
She said she’d meet us here.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Eh, while we wait for Godot we can enjoy the sites indoors. Come on, I’ve never been to DC! Even this frickin’ office building is awesome! So corporate.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
You’re such a tourist.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
What’s wrong with that?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Nothing, considering I’m right there with you. (smiles) Come on, let’s get some pictures in front of the state seal! Stand over there, no, in front of the insignia. To be in building that houses – sometimes literally – all these representatives! Gives me such a thrill.<br />
<br />
(Tanya stand next to seal, Thelma takes picture.)<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
I had no idea how any of this worked out logistically… I mean, the carpeting choice? When’s the last time they redecorated… I’m kidding. It’s overwhelming. I’ve got jitters. <br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Yeah, yeah. That’s it. Lap it up before we get down to the dirty work.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
You’re such a mom. Dirty work? You think they’re going to offer us some sort of program to head first day on the job? I mean, this is more of a temporary spot, since they needed a hand…<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
And you needed a job. I mean, with the amount of time you put in working for Falston, he should be offering you a spot at the White House. But, that’s another department, I guess. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Eh, job. I’m just here to schmooze! And there’s Sarah! What’s she wearing? Hey Sarah!<br />
<br />
(Sarah enters, waves to Thelma and Tanya. Wears black t-shirt, pink feather boa and pink ball cap.)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Well, if it ain’t my fellow midwesternites. <br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(Looks Sarah over) What’s with this? You going loony on us?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I came here with some Code Pinkers. I was meeting them just before this. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Code Pink? What’s that?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Oh, lordy.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Oh stop, Thelma, I know you don’t like them. That’s why I left them at the door.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Tanya, they’re a bunch of crazy war protestors who don’t know when to quit. <br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Are the wars over?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
No.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Then why quit? (smiles, twirls boa)<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(sighs) It’s just a bunch of play. Do they really get anything done with all their publicity stunts? I mean, outside the beltway, their antics aren’t listened to. People already know Obama needs to step up withdrawal, there’s no need to try and make the message frilli-fied.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
And what makes our hard-working representatives in government any different from trying to get the public’s attention? Mainstream media, hell even publications like Politico only talks about Congress members like they’re movie or rock stars. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Some of them talk like they could be on Jersey Shore. Or Snooki being mentioned by Obama? Puh-leaze.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(flaps arms) My point exactly. Interchangeable. But what do they do? Where’s the change we can believe in?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
It sounds like you’ve gone Independent Party on us. Are you still with the Dems or not?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
You knew I was always on the outskirts. Illinois doesn’t have a third party. Hell, I’d even say it doesn’t have a second party sometimes.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Whoa! Hold on! We are not going to fight in these halls! I want to stay here, not get kicked out!<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
But that’s what this place is all about, conflict. However, I apologize, Thelma. I guess I just get a little ramped up when I get out here. (excited) Makes me feel like I could be burning bras outside this building again. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
When were you here before?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
With a group of other feminists when they marched on DC in 1978 for the ERA. <br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(rolls eyes) Oh good grief. Here we go again.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(blinks) What?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
This isn’t 1978. I’m not knocking on your experience, but we’re not here to protest. We’re here to get Tanya situated. New day. That’s all, no disrespect. The way to change things are from the inside.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Now I feel a bit out of sorts.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
I’m sorry, Tanya, really. I’ll be good. If she is. (thumbs at Sarah)<br />
Tanya<br />
No, it’s more… I just feel like there’s so much history here that I don’t understand or know about. Coming here is almost overwhelming. I mean, I actually want to hear your stories, Sarah. But… I don’t want to dredge up old arguments.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Well, it’s not really old arguments, it’s just on-going arguments. They never really go away. They just shift a little.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(hands on hips) What do you mean they just shift?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I barely have to nudge you in the wrong direction and you’re quicker to go off than a roman candle on the 4th of July at the Capitol building.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Which I take it you’ve seen firsthand. (folds arms)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Well, yeah.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Was that the same year you came with the feminists?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
But this isn’t the reason we’re here!<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
You mean why you’re here. Why are you here?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(appalled) You know damn well why I’m here! (yells) For Tanya! <br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(puts hands up) I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, what do you want to do for Tanya? And why didn’t you want to come to get yourself another spot? I mean, I hate to say this Tanya, but she did more than the two of us combined to work with Falston, and Feldstein. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
No, no, you’re completely right. The amount of traveling she did between our office, Chicago and Springfield was fantastic. It took her supermom energy and put it to use in the public forum.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(like a humbled but wet cat) I didn’t do that much. I… (waves at them) I’m not here for me. I didn’t want the spot.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
I’m too old to be gallivanting across DC like a spring chicken.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
I don’t believe you – we just said what you did for the entire last campaign. And you like DC as much as I do. Is it your family?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
No… It can’t be. They’re scattered across the country like the dice from a Yahtzee game in a two year old’s hands. <br />
<br />
(Thelma squints at Sarah)<br />
<br />
What? Oh yeah. M’grandkids, God love ‘em. I’ve practically lost all my dice.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Not marbles? Anyway. It’s… I just don’t feel like I matter as much here. I feel like I have more control back in Illinois than I do here. But it’s my nature. I don’t feel the same for you Tanya, you have more optimism about this kind of stuff than I do. <br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
She’s the reformed feminist of the bunch. (smiles)<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
What’s that supposed to mean?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
It means just that – you aren’t sticking up for yourself.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
What? I do plenty to speak out against injustice all around us. I don’t just sit idly by.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I’m not talking about idling. We just proved you don’t idle. But you don’t want to be a spectacle. Now, I’m not raining on your wish to be respectable. But when you don’t stand up for yourself, not just as a woman, but as a human being…<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Enough! Let Thelma decide what she wants to do! She doesn’t have to-<br />
Sarah<br />
But she’s being a bad example.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
How can you say that?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
To you, mostly. She’s been doing it for quite some time, and she’s not alone. Which only makes it more important that she stop this insanity.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Insanity? Huh. The only one who sounds insane is the woman standing here at the moment in a pink feather boa.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Nah-ah. You, dear lady, are a prig. You don’t come out of your safety shell. With your respectable clothes and your gradeschool inside voice, you just don’t shout to the world that things are shit and you don’t like it!<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
The whole “I’m so mad I can’t take it anymore!” – <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
(cuts in) Was that the Libertarians or the Tea Partiers that bastardized that?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(to Tanya) Shh. Let her speak. I’ve been trying to find a way to make her address this for years.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(grumbles, consernated) You…. Well, of course I want more! I want to get some of the programs we were interested in go through! I want the process to work better! I don’t want to have to deal with the crap both sides of the aisle make for everyone else to clean up! Why do you think I made all those trips in Illinois? Because I was happy to do them? I want to take that sword from lady liberty out there, and give each goddamn Congressman a swat on the behind they won’t soon forget!<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Ah, there are Congress women too.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(waves away) Doesn’t matter. You get what I’m saying.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Then perhaps you should come here.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
What? <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
But… There is still a sense of respect for the elected. Right?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Honey, they work for us. We’re their boss, not the other way around.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
(to Sarah) Well, technically, until you do work for them. <br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Oh yeah.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
I think I get Sarah’s point though. (turns to Thelma) Thelma, you’re an ass.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Now don’t you go complimenting me too.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Hold on - it is a compliment. You, dear lady, are a Democrat. And you’re more fiesty than I am most of the time. But you’re so damn restrained when it comes to saying your views! Live a little! (smacks Thelma on the back)<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(coughs) Gee. I… Really don’t know what to say. I just, I don’t know. I guess I am a bit more frustrated in general than I let on, but that’s why I work so da-gun hard at what I do.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Which is fine and dandy. But, well… we haven’t seen you get this vocal about your views since that Tea Party Republican took the 11th congressional district.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Eesh. That reminds me, I’m still sorry I put a dent in your car after I heard that, Tanya. I didn’t think I could lift the branch much less make that kind of impact on your hood like that. I was a bit surprised.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
(waves it away) It was easily enough repaired. My insurance company accepted that “it was an act of God.” <br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(disgusted) Oh good grief. Sarah’s been too much of an influence on you, that’s not even a good pun, ya heretic.<br />
Sarah<br />
Now, instead of worrying about these things, take them a little lighter.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(smirks) Like taking a lighter to a bra?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
If the cup fits.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(angry) So are we going in for Tanya, or are we going to start dickering over who’s breasts sag better? Come on. (takes Tanya’s arm)<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
(fidgets) Actually, would you mind if I did this alone?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
You sure?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(coughs and looks Sarah over) I don’t see why not.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Aw, come on, Thelma, lighten up. And you know this is nothing compared to what I could have worn over here. The shirt only even says Code Pink on it. I was wearing my Arrest Bush shirt before. And, I could have left it on while hunting out the 11th district guy for a good row. Actually, why don’t you join me?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Perfect. I’ll just be a moment. If it gets hairy, don’t get me. (looks inside door) I still want to work here. I’ve got the nod from the receptionist, so I’ll be quick.<br />
<br />
(Tanya exits)<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
She’s a brave soul.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Yeah? And what about you? You coward.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Now don’t keep this up while she’s not here. I don’t want to have to explain to my husband why I need money for bail in DC.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Man those were the best memories. Dammit woman, I’m trying to get you to listen to me. <br />
Thelma<br />
And you want me to speak up? To be vocal? What?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I want you to be honest. You gave Tanya that spot. <br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
What?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
That’s right, I heard you get the call, and then give the recommendation. You turned them down cold. You’re an idiot! You deserve it more!<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Now hold on a minute! You don’t know the whole story!<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
No, I know damn well why you did it, you selfless primadonna. You did it because she needed the job. (pauses) I know you think I’m thoughtless-<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
More careless, really-<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(waves away) Whatever! But I have family too, you dope. And I know the importance of friends. Who do you think I linked arms with when I was here in 1978? Just complete strangers? No! I did it with people I cared about, cared for. Careless. Yeah, I’m a protestor. And you’re a fucking prig. But you’re damn good at what you do, which is why I depend so frickin’ much on you.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(quietly) …Do you think she’d like it here? I mean, you seem to get a lot, but as a protestor. Tanya would work for the government. I’ve been telling her that’s the way to do things. But you see how decrepit the system is on both the state and federal level. This isn’t something one person can overhaul, even with Tanya’s own hidden away piss and venom.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I completely agree.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(stunned) What? Whoa. That’s new.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
No… No. It’s not that. I don’t think she can do it alone. <br />
<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Well, duh.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
No, actually, I mean you should join her.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
What? Are you nuts?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Well, sure, but that’s beside the point. Just lookit. You came out here, didn’t you? And you do more than any of us combined. I’m sure that the office would be willing to find a spot for you too. Don’t just give it up for the sake of Tanya’s job. If you’re going to be respectable, use it, damnit!<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
But… But… this is just a visit!<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
It’s a show of support, you said so yourself. It’s what you do really well. Yeah, keep blushing, it’s true. (smiles)<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(glares) This isn’t blushing, it’s a hotflash. (looks away) You’re nuts, you know that?<br />
<br />
(Tanya enters)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(gives Thelma sideways glance) Sure. That’s all it is.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
So? How did it go? You get the job?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Yeah. And they heard you talking out here, and said they wondered why you hadn’t also put in your application since they called you first, Thelma. They were impressed with your record, and said they’d be happy to have you if you were still interested.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(whacks Thelma on the back) See! I told ya! You need to come to DC.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(rubs spot where hit) Fucking asshole, don’t do that. It’s the second time I’ve been assaulted by one of you dingbats in the last hour. If you don’t think of me, think of your own arthritic hippy hand.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(laughs) Yeah, you’d fit in perfectly here.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(barks) What the hell is that supposed to mean!<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
It means, stop bitching and come in the office. If you won’t come for yourself, or your country, come for me. Sarah’s right. I couldn’t do this without you. And you came here to support me, right?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Uh-oh. She’s pulled the martyr string.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Shut your yap, you moron. (sighs) They could use me? Really?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Just go in there and talk to them, it wouldn’t hurt. I, however, need a moment with Sarah.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(Hesitates, just a moment) Alright. But if a fight breaks out, I want pictures.<br />
<br />
(Thelma exits)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Were we too loud or something? I promise, I’ll make her squeal in the lobby next time. (smiles)<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
(blinks) You two should have been a couple the way you act. (smiles) At least you’ll laugh about it, Thelma’s gag reflex would have started if she heard that. However. What I want to know is more about the ERA thing. And what you did in DC. And more about this place in general. It seems like a generally good, but topsy-turvey, place. And I want an insider’s history of what I will be getting into…Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-59727340969962966312011-02-22T11:42:00.001-08:002011-02-22T11:42:52.538-08:00Apology for Sarah PalinThe year is 2011. At the Democratic headquarters of fictitious McClean County, IL, Thelma (55) Sarah (62) and Tanya (45) are stuffing envelopes for the upcoming elections and campaigns. To while away the time, they have been conversing about the general political climate of Illinois and the rest of the nation.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Reform. Feh. Such a tired term.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
But it works, doesn’t it? I mean the term, not reform.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Always make that distinction. <br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(Looks at flier) Teddy is a good candidate, he seems to have a decent plan. I mean for a local election, he’s got name recognition-<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Like a first name basis. You must be really buddy buddy. (smiles and winks)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
No, he just happened to already have a successful campaign. Of sorts. (clears throat)<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Hardy-har. Come on, fellow envelope stuffers, we gotta work harder for our fellow-<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
And woman, remember Cindy Feldstein.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
I said fellow, didn’t I? Non-gendered, look it up, Miss Gloria.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Miss Steinem to you, twerp. (smiles)<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
You call Cindy a woman? Good grief, she’s more a paper pushing bureaucrat than anything female.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
She’s a working woman, which often means that one can’t be as “female” as you might suggest, Miss shopaholic.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
It’s called shop therapy. I know it’s a weakness, especially in this economy, but come on. I already feel dingy enough going to the dollar store with my coupons for half off.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
I call that being smart. Too many economy problems right now, which is what Teddy… I mean Falston says in this lovely little flier we’re folding.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(grabs flier from Thelma) Do people really read the mailings any more? Why aren’t we doing more stuff online?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
(grabs flier from Sarah) I usually would also opt for that, but this is just a local election. And, we’re the most stalwart Democratic workers Falston and Feldstein will find in this area.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
You mean old.<br />
<br />
(Sarah makes paper airplane out of flier, throws it towards Tanya)<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Well? (dodges airplane) What if we have the AARP support they’re looking for? I’m not talking about just you two, but others who come into help are usually over sixty. I say don’t knock an alliance. We’re also in a more rural area were Republicans are around every corner. We’re not Chicago down here.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(clasps hands together in prayer.) Thank God.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
And I thought I was religious. But come on, seriously now. Chicago gave us money, and they give us attention. Media attention. And a weird connection to Springfield.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
But we’re not either one of those, and they don’t count in this election.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
What are you talking about, they don’t count? Of course they count – Chicago is the great pro and con role model. As well as, our people have to mess with Springfield, even if it has to be via Chicago.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
You think that will ever change? (licks an envelope)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Depends on how much our dear governor and future governors wish to bow to federal government for funding.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Or lack thereof. (throws an envelope into the large pile)<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
But there’s new ideas, like debt loans. Kinda like a bailout. <br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
A bailout for the state?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
They must be nuts thinking people would go for a bailout after what happened with the banks going apeshit with spending.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
But that’s just it. It would be the people this time, not the banks. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
But since it’s the people, even if it’s more money, it’s spread thinner. I don’t feel the paltry $100 or $200 they might get back in a tax return is enough. The government needs to forgive people’s debt. I mean, come on. The federal government itself has been running a deficit for how long now? How is that supposed to look to fellow debters? <br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Crazy. (spirals finger at ear) And the music goes round and round…<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
And it comes out here. (Pounds stamp on envelope) Amen sister friend. <br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Eh, something like that. (Dirty look to Tanya)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(Looks at flier) Now, we would have had better chances of mandates that made sense if Hillary-<br />
Tanya<br />
(Cuts off) Oh Hells no.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Stop right there.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Good god woman, let it go.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Now, hear me out. I think she would have done a hell of a lot for female interest in politics. She-<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
She’s still important, she’s still in the news, and if you want female interest in politics based on being the center of attention, you can find that in the negative sense – Sarah Palin.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Oh, you just gave me back my envelope glue migraine.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Now there’s a woman-<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
That should be saved for special occasions. Point taken, I rescind my argument.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Thank you.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
I think it’s an interesting argument.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Mentioning that woman’s name is like talking about those who enjoy listening to Rush Limbaugh in the morning rather than drink coffee. Or, I would say in politics, she is like talking about politics in public – it’s not polite.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Or religion.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Oh lord, you had to say that. (swats at Tanya with a stack of fliers)<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Now what’s wrong with that? You think she’s going to start something?<br />
Tanya<br />
Now why would I do that? (defending herself against Sarah’s continued whacks)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Because I can’t stand when you and Thelma fight over your differences.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
We’ve come to a truce about that. Last time we talked about this and had a problem, we merely agreed to disagree.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(stops assaulting Tanya, settles in seat) With a slap fight involving a fish.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
It was two fish, more fencing with fish than a slap fight… Anyway, it wasn’t bad. Especially considering you just tried to maul me an army of Teddy’s face in print.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Not bad? I smelled like haddock for a week. My dry cleaning bill was ridiculous for that damn coat.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Oooo…. You naughty little thing.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
What? You think my swearing has anything to do with my faith? You are sparing, you little wench.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
No, merely teasing. No, really. It’s like trying to understand the incongruity of something like being Buddhist and Scientologist at the same time.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Whoa.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
What? (stymied/sour look.) How can you be a Buddhist and a Scientologist at the same time? <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Well… My brother says it’s possible. And he practically lives with Tom and John in Clearwater, so shut your pie-hole.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(bows) And there’s religious tolerance, ladies and gentlemen.<br />
<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Oh…<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
You want tolerance? Sarah is a pillar of strength over there.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Me?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
How?<br />
<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
She’s married to a Republican.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Oh that’s right. Roger is a bit… eclectic.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(Nods) Yeah, I live with it. Don’t like to think about it unless I need to vent and need some angry sex. But it doesn’t mean I have to suck its cock when the GOP decides to makes a bad move. This whole health care vote has left my poor husband without a decent blowjob for a year.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
It’s like the reverse of Mary Maitland and James Carville – in party only. We still know that Mary is the one who wears the pants.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Yeah, she doesn’t take crap. But damn, does she have to say it?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Which is why Sarah Palin-<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Is a non-topic. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
But she’s just so damn pretty, you gotta admit.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Yeah…<br />
<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Come on, what is it about looks? You of all people Sarah.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
What? I can’t appreciate aesthetics just because I associate myself in the feminist camp? You’re full of shit. You’re the zealot of modesty over here.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
It’s not looks so much as she would make a great angry fuck.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Part of me is reviled, part of me is nodding. But lesbianism and Republicans only seems to go together in call girl situations, not actual ideology.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Don’t you know you can still be a Republican and be a lesbian?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
No, it’s called militant dykes. (smiles)<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Now, hold on. Yeah, I’ve heard of those. They’re the Log Cabin Republicans, right?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
They actually exist?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Not all feminists are Democrat.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Not all Democrats are feminist.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Which is why we’re here. Another group we can bring in.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
I mean, we still have to make sure the whole Lily Ledbetter Act takes some root.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I still think the ERA has a shot-<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
In hell. <br />
<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Amen. It’s dead as a doorknob, get use to it. We gotta take what we get.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Like a momma grizzly.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Isn’t that more a protective thing than nurturing?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
I’d say it’s more of a not-paying-attention thing. I still can’t let her live down the Turkey thing from Youtube.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Or the reality show? Endless bits that just seemed to blur together.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
But she calls herself a feminist?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
What is it these days?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
What?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I mean, what is a feminist these days?<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Can I be safe to say it is not Sarah Palin?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
But she’s not Phyllis Schlafly, who is a flat-out anti-feminist.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
Ew. That’s the best defense you can come up with? That since Palin’s not one kind of odd filth, don’t go and try to figure out that what kind of filth she is?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call her filth. I mean, you talk about tolerance. Well, I’ll give you that she is a sort of odd role model, Palin that is. She’s bumbling, but she’s trying to be forceful and hopeful in a weird media campaign that makes everything seem weird, bizarre and fucked up.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Well, true-<br />
Thelma<br />
But what does that say about her character? That she’s resilient? Or that she’s a glutton for punishment? How is that supposed to be good for women?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
I’d say it’s her attempt to take responsibility for a lot of the stupid things that do happen in politics. Especially on the national stage.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
By doing them? You’re suggesting the old, do what I say not what I do? If you can figure out what it is she says half the time.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
But she’s not technically doing them, nor is she in politics proper at this point. But she is one of the few women, not sewn to the Democrats by birth right, who questions being pigeon-holed. She’s no old school feminist, and she ain’t elegant in the way she talks, but her crazy-assed folksy demeanor seems to resonate with a bigger point that this country is in need of a female leader.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
(winces) But Palin?<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(rolls eyes) I hate to say it, but Sarah does make a valid point. I don’t say I agree with you completely though, I mean, come on. It is Sarah Palin.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
But what we’re talking about is a national figurehead. Look at her Alaskan record before she went national. She happened to do a fair amount of good, or so I’ve been able to tell. It’s the national stuff that made her seem nuts and stupid.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
So, what’s your point?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(takes another flier and envelop) Stuff your envelopes ladies, because Cindy and Teddy need our help.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Not Sarah? (nudges Thelma)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
(smiles, flicks others off) I didn’t say I appreciate having the same moniker as the woman. But criticize her all we want now. She’s not the one telling us how to clean our water from natural gas contamination, or how to save coal miners on a budget.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
And she’s not a Democrat.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Yeah, I was just wondering about this.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
(at Sarah) I was almost starting to wonder if you were a Democrat.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
Just because I still like the teachings of 70s feminism and don’t bow behind the health care reform tactics of Nancy Pelosi, who would edge out the women’s caucus vote in favor of the Stupak clan on health care reform. (guttural yells) Oy! That pissed me off. But, it doesn’t mean I can’t respect Pelosi’s ability. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
That was a dirty trick on Pelosi’s part…<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
But I think Sarah is trying to say it’s the Bart Stupak’s who have hijacked the party, not the diminutive moments of women like Pelosi. The conservative streak is starting to hedge out the ability for women to make a choice based on some religious ideology that does not speak for the rest of this country. Yeah, I said it. I go to church and I still think it’s the woman’s choice to choose what happens to her own body. Men should go fuck themselves.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
It often makes for better porn anyway. (smiles, Thelma looks disgusted)<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
No, I’m not saying that at all, what Thelma’s saying. What I am saying is the parties are only as good as the members who are willing to work for change. Which is why I happen to like this county’s parties and their affiliations. It’s a network of diverse people who bring together local issues.<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
And they don’t bicker about the partisan stuff once elected. <br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
Yeah, they usually just pick something else they don’t like about a person.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
But that’s politics in general.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Thelma<br />
No defense of pragmatic politics from you? I’m disappointed. At least, what I try to find out of this stuff is a broader, or pragmatic, view. It’s why I still like figureheads like Obama. <br />
<br />
(Tanya rolls eyes, Sarah glares, folds arms.)<br />
<br />
I know, I know. He’s milquetoast in spearheading policy. But as a speaker, he gives a rousing speech when needed. And I think we don’t really listen to his speeches, for what they try to do. Or for that matter any speeches, to do the things that are mostly on our own shoulders as active citizens, anyway. Or hell. Human beings, for God’s sake.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
So why don’t we give more power to the speech writers than to the politicians?<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
What? That’s anti-democratic, and you know it.<br />
<br />
Tanya<br />
They’re probably just not as pretty or as outgoing I guess.<br />
<br />
Sarah<br />
And you have to remember another thing about speech writers – Sarah Palin has them. And what have they done for her?Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-72062405280267807882011-02-06T11:04:00.000-08:002011-02-06T11:04:42.219-08:00AWP seedlingsJust came back from AWP conference in DC, buzzing with ideas and new leads. <br />
Current project ideas stirring about include a Tea Partier (male, revolutionary war costume) and a Code Pinker (female, black t-shirt, pink feather boa and matching tiara) who go through the odd sensation of being attracted to one another, while simultaneously separating through boasting about their causes, yet having a philosophical discussion that shows the scope of their goals within that group. In the background are both corporate/gov employees carrying signs with random protests on them, and military carrying props like toilet seats, balloons, lampshades and hammers. Occassionally they stop to play catch and do other things that don't mesh with the main conflict in the forefront. The main themes are absurdity with real/serious issues, and problems of lemming-ism tempered by the power of numbers of people organizing. I'd love to get someone like Travis or the Constellations to do some tracks for it.Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-46371896648844338422011-01-27T20:10:00.001-08:002011-01-31T09:38:25.700-08:00Death and Dick CheneyIt is just after the Presidential Inauguration in 2009. Former VP Dick Cheney is standing with entourage in a rich and spacious residential area of Georgetown. Death stands with shroud and scythe over Cheney, drawing Cheney’s attention away from messing with his gloves.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
I want your soul.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
(putting on scarf) Huh? What do you want? I’m busy. Talk to my secretary and schedule something. Right now I’m in a hurry.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
(continues to hover over Cheney) I want your soul.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
What? Did the Democrats send you for the sake of blaming me for the economic downturn that started with Clinton? Or maybe as a ploy for trying to overthrow actual balanced governing with an extreme leftist supposed new, New Deal? Or the intended health care legislation that the Democrats want to bulldoze true Americans, who are fighting to sustain their way of life at such a difficult time? No dice. It’s not my administration… I mean, I’m not in the administration any more. Bugger off.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
I came here because it is your time.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Time? For what? All I can see is it’s time for the Republicans to make sure that poor schmucks like you don’t bother me. I can’t do what you conspiracy freaks think I can do, especially not now. I’m just your fellow citizen. Now scram. Get out.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
It is your time to die.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
(yells to his group offstage) Security! Seriously, I can’t talk to you if you are going to threaten me like this.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
It’s not a threat. It’s the truth.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
I’m on my way to a doctor’s appointment. If you’ll excuse me (aid comes rushing to him) Get this joker out of here. <br />
<br />
Death<br />
They cannot see me.<br />
<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
What do you mean they can’t see you? (Looks at the aid) You see this joker right? What are you looking at me like that for? You think I’m nuts? Feh, go get John, he’ll be of use to you. Scat. <br />
<br />
Death<br />
You must come with me.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Come with you? (low laugh) I just told you I’m on my way to a doctor’s appointment. I can’t come with you, even if you might possibly be… whoever you are. You aren’t doing some porn movie are you? I can’t believe Ron Paul let himself get mixed up in that. Where’s the cameras? Seriously, where are they?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
(sighs) I don’t like to reiterate. I simply want your soul.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Am I being punked? Eh? Is that it? One of those crazy leftist entertainment shows? I tell ya, I won’t give in. This has little to do with anything of importance. Off with ya now.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
You cannot leave.<br />
<br />
(scenery fades to white, mist)<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Well of course I have to. Hey, were did everyone go? What did you do? Is this an ambush?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
It is your time.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
My time? For what? It’s time for me to being making a public spectacle of you. You’re treating me like I’m some sort of pawn to be played. Well look here buddy, I could have you wiped out of your district faster than you can say Tom Delay.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
I do not care for earthly ambitions. I am here for your soul.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
(sneers) Too, late, I already sold it for my political ambitions. Isn’t that what you want to hear? Or is that too much of a shock for you? (smiles)<br />
<br />
Death<br />
Do you deal with your circumstance so lightly?<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
No, of course not. Which is why I’m trying to tell you to get lost. Hey, what happened to the street? Oh, I get it. You must have slipped me some drug, or it’s some new gas terrorists are using against us. This is a plot not only against the country! You ingrate, what the fuck do you take me for?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
A mortal.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
That’s fucking right! You miserable cur, you don’t know the value of human life. Why do you continue to traipse upon the fragile psyche of this country? Always threatening us with the wrath of the great Allah.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
I am not religious, I am Death.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
But don’t you get the greatness of family? Of community? Don’t you have ties to something that makes you human, you damned twit of a terrorist? <br />
<br />
Death<br />
Do you still have ties? A loved one? Your daughter?<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Of course I love my daughter. There’s no question where my heart lies.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
I thought it was in the hands of a doctor.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
(He chuckles harshly) That heart? That’s probably somewhere out in some toxic medical disposal unit rotting away at this point. You’ve read up on me. At least you have some sense in your head, you fucking moron. I don’t have time for this though. Is there some antidote to this? Or is this some sort of a Goddamned dream state? Are you supposed to be something else?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
I am merely Death.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
You’re the death of me, you damned fuck. This is a waste of my time. If you give a damn about life, you’d listen to me and what I have to say. Which first and foremost is, let me GO!<br />
<br />
Death<br />
It has not been my decision that you should die now. It is fated.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Fate!? Fate? What is this horse shit you’re trying to pull? Fate has nothing to do with it. It’s your own intent that I should be here, for some reason that you’re not saying. <br />
<br />
Death<br />
There is no reason. Only fate. It is your time.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
(quiets down) Now you listen to me. I have been more than reasonable with your attitude. What is it you want?<br />
Death<br />
I want your soul.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
I see. And how would you assume to obtain said soul?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
By you coming with me.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
That’s not an answer.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
It is not for you to understand.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
I think if it’s my soul, I should understand what it is you are to do.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
Mortals would not understand. You don’t understand or believe in Fate, even though it exists. This process of souls is eternal and unchanging, yet you do not believe, much less could you understand.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
I see, you don’t think I’m intelligent enough for it.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
It has nothing to do with worldly intelligence.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
But you said it was because I would not understand. How is that not a part of intelligence? What? Is it a matter of intuition? Something else? A vision? Are you getting all new-agey crap on me? What?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
No mortal can understand the process. They only need to know when their time has come.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
But that doesn’t give the mortal a chance to rebut. What if there’s a better reason for them to stay?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
That is taken into consideration with fate, not death. Death resides on the decision of fate.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
So it’s a matter of who I have to talk to in order to change this? Who do I talk to, to get you to change your mind? This fate? Is it a person or a department?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
It is fate. It merely is a part of being.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
But if it’s a part of being, then it would be something that I could access, right?<br />
Death<br />
You cannot access it in some mortal way. It creates decisions in a way past your reasoned comprehension.<br />
Cheney<br />
Then it’s intuition, right? Something that has to do with being? What has more to do with being than being in the moment? You can’t argue with that.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
It is not to be argued.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Are you saying this is some sort of fascistic Nazi regime here? I thought I stilled lived in the USA.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
This is one more reason why you could not understand. You talk politics as a hypocrite by your own standards. Your words and mind are closed. How could you be open to something that is beyond you?<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
You’re a fucking leftist! Get out of that robe! This ain’t no costume party!<br />
<br />
Death<br />
(opens robe) Is this the embodiment of a leftist?<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
(shaking and white) No… No…<br />
<br />
Death<br />
You will go with me.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
No… No…<br />
<br />
Death<br />
(leads Cheney) We will go.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
No… (shakes out of it) No! I beg of you! Whatever you are! There is no reason I should die! Why am I being cornered! Why me?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
Death is not for you alone. It is not special, it is common. It does not discriminate by race, gender or creed. All people see me at some point. <br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
But you… Why? Why now? Where are you taking me? What did I do?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
You have merely lived the run of your life. <br />
<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
But is this fate? Can fate be changed?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
(pauses) There is always a possibility.<br />
Cheney<br />
Is this something that I can do anything about?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
There is always a possibility.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Is there a how? (tears up)<br />
<br />
Death<br />
There will be time enough for these questions to be answered in the great eternal cycle of life. <br />
<br />
(Street returns)<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Wha… What’s happening? John? John’s there?<br />
<br />
Death<br />
You are to go to the hospital.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Really? What? I… I don’t understand.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
You cannot tell anyone you have seen me, for they will not understand.<br />
<br />
(fades out of Cheney’s sight)<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
(grasps chest, falls to knees, says to no one in particular) I’ve had a vision of Death.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
Now you must continue on your journey to the hospital. Go to your comrades.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
(Gets up, still staring into space) We need to go to the hospital. Now. Move it.<br />
<br />
Death<br />
I will go with you for the journey, and fate will be the determining factor.<br />
<br />
Cheney<br />
Fate… Fate… Yes. Fate. My fate to go see the doctor, my soul in his hands…Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-10663570575638388002010-09-26T10:48:00.000-07:002010-09-26T10:48:58.087-07:00Re-cracked.Cracked Soup<br />
<br />
Woman<br />
The day is sunny despite a haze of smog. A highly-educated, white, mid-height, average-looking woman walks into a suburban diner. The diner is clean and brightly lit from the many windows. There is a diverse demographic of people filling about three-quarters of the total available tables, booths and stools at the counter. <br />
The second-generation Greek owner, with a bear-like build, stands behind the counter that separates the relatively open floor plan of the diner from the kitchen. The woman is reminded of the men at her office, the ones she usually gets away from during her precious lunch hour. She can’t stand being near the overbearing fake-kindness of the bullies, but somehow the mood in the diner lightens this feeling. The owner wipes some dessert plate dishes clean with a dish towel. While standing there, he chats with two well-dressed, white women who are slouched over their cups of tomato soup.<br />
The highly-educated woman smiles at the owner and grabs a table, almost dead center in the middle of the room. The woman does not know the owner well, but she’s been to this diner more than once. He seems like a genuinely nice man, but she’s glad for the distance, and the small part of the day she spends here, away from her officious coworkers. Among other things, she likes the open floor plan, the brightly lit atmosphere and the tomato soup.<br />
It is lunch time, and the woman wants to order food before going back to work. She goes up to the counter with her medium-sized, vinyl purse that has a metallic clasp in front. The owner sees her and puts down the dish he was drying. “Hello, how can I help you today?”<br />
“Hi there, I’m thinking I would like a cup of that tomato soup. I’ll take a side salad with it, with French dressing.”<br />
“Would you like anything to drink with that?” The owner asks.<br />
“A cup of coffee and some water would be very nice.”<br />
“Any dessert?”<br />
The woman smiles again. “No thank you, I’ve got to watch the sugar intake while at work. Otherwise, your scones do look lovely.” She nods her head over to the small plastic casing filled with assorted fresh-baked pastry on top of the counter to her right, past the two women sitting on the stools. The slouching women smile back.<br />
“Well then, you should come back after work and treat yourself. Too much work and not enough treats makes for a hard week during such rough times. It’s part of why I reduced their price.”<br />
“That’s part of why I came in. You have extremely affordable rates. It’s definitely appreciated.”<br />
“Thank you. It’s good business to keep people coming in with low rates than make only a few people come in for what? Less food and higher prices? Business isn’t just about the money. It’s about what I can do to make someone’s day a little nicer. I often find I get more out of talking to people than I do with the process of making sure I stay solvent.” He sadly chuckles.<br />
The working woman seems warmed by his comment, and gives him an appreciative smile.<br />
The owner goes back to the cash register at his right and totals the order. “All right. The total is $6.22.”<br />
“Like I said, very reasonable.” The woman unclasps her purse and picks through its meager contents to find her pocketbook. She pulls out three bills from it, one five dollar bill and two one dollar bills, and hands them to the owner over the counter. He rings open the cash register with a mixture of automated beeps and the metallic ca-junk of the drawer, which is released into his gut with a soft pffld. <br />
The owner places the bills in each pile in the drawer, and pulls out three quarters and three pennies. With a smile, the owner then hands the change to the woman and says, “Your order will be out soon.”<br />
The woman smiles back and closes her purse. She turns to go to the table she had marked with setting down her coat across the back of a chair. The spring air was chilly enough even with the bright blazing sun to need a coat when going outside. <br />
However, once she gets to the table, she is aware of how much she needs to use the lady’s room. A half hour before coming to the diner, she drank an entire twenty-ounce bottle of Aquafina. So before sitting down, she figures she should have enough time before the food comes to go to the restroom. She sets her purse down on the chair and turns to the direction of the restrooms, which are in the far left corner of the counter with the cash register.<br />
<br />
Owner<br />
The woman leaves her purse at the table, and she thinks it won’t be snatched? She’s simple, no street smarts. Leave it to a man. I have two women waiting on me, asking me for every little thing, because they know, I know. It’s no problem. I want to help, they need my help. I will help.<br />
So the woman comes from somewhere, maybe the bathroom. Nothing to me, I have two women already waiting on me. They want refills on their drinks, extra napkins, or they ask, how much is the apple pie with ice cream? I show them the apple pie already comes with ice cream, any flavor, no extra charge for the ice cream. I’m a nice guy, they should have something sweet, right? It’s rough times. I want to help, make things good. Keep people happy, keep people coming back. Eh, who wouldn’t when you run a business, right?<br />
That woman doesn’t get it. I offer her sweets, she refuses. She makes me feel like I’m not getting through to her I can be a good guy. Okay, no skin off my nose. She chooses her own food, something simple. Like her. She’s classy, she’s a business woman. Okay. She likes my food, so I say, okay.<br />
I tell her she makes a mistake, leaving her purse. She doesn’t like me reminding her, I think. I tell her, I’m glad she’s here, I thought she left. I tell her that. She tells me no, she was in the bathroom. I then say to her, I look out for her, things like money should not be left laying around, especially when she can’t keep an eye on it. I can’t keep an eye on it, I have other people to serve. There’s an old couple at a table at one corner of the room, and a guy reading his paper at the other. What if I were to get busy all of the sudden? I’d need eyes growing out of the back of my head just to make sure I get everybody’s orders. <br />
She gets uppity, telling me my place is empty, no one would take it. I tell her I’m just telling her because I’m nice. She doesn’t get it. Okay. I’m a nice guy.<br />
<br />
Man<br />
I need lunch, but I don’t really know this particular diner that well. There’s a soup special written on the black board out front of it, and the place is close enough that I won’t be completely soaked if it rains. I forgot my umbrella. I didn’t feel like taking anything with me but my leather jacket. I guess it’s my attempt at being a rebel. But really, I just forgot. So many frickin’ things to think about, I needed to get away, away from that job. Too many people making noise, it’s an office for God’s sake! Why the hell are they talking all the time? Customer service doesn’t have to be so frickin’ loud from two corridors away! I just can’t stand this job being so... detached. But why get to know these people? They’d just start yacking my ear off, and then I’d never get them to shut up. <br />
Inside the diner, it’s a sparse but comfy place, two women at the counter, and… the owner is yelling at a customer. It can’t be the owner. No, it looks like it’s got to be the owner, the guy’s wearing a paper hat that covers at least some of that bald spot in the middle of his thick black hair. And a green order pad and pen is sticking out the front right pocket of the guy’s slightly-stained apron. Either he’s the owner or a head cook. In this small edge-of-the-town suburban sprawl neighborhood, often that’s the same thing.<br />
I would usually want to get out of a situation like this, but I’m kind of fascinated by the weirdness of this scene. I deal with diplomacy so much with office politics that I would rather have a little normal human interaction, perhaps wait my turn. Not to be yelled at, but rather to find out what they were yelling about. Could actually be something important, or perhaps she’s trying to haggle a price down. I don’t know, but it’s kind of intriguing. That, and this is the only sit-down place that’s close to work. Those scones do look good in that case. Even one of those with some coffee would be a nice departure from the 7-11 equivalent.<br />
It looks like I’ll have to wait to get served however, I can’t seen anyone else in here besides the short Mexican cooks near the back, and the only waitress is completely across the room talking to some other customers. <br />
<br />
Woman<br />
A man walked in while the woman conversed with the owner about the purse. The man is white, thin and wearing a slightly-worn leather coat with well fitting jeans. He waits behind the woman, who is starting to get a little more annoyed with the owner. “Part of the economic problems we are dealing with is couched in public trust. If I can’t trust that a place like this is safe not just for my purse but for me, then why should I go out at all?”<br />
The man looks to the table with the woman’s coat and purse. He only caught the word “purse” because he was preoccupied with trying to see if one of the cooks would look his way. The man goes over to the table and picks up the purse, going over to stand right behind the woman and tries to get her attention. <br />
But the woman is listening to the owner. “Of course my place is safe! But it’s only when I know the people who come in here. I don’t know everybody here, and I don’t know you as well. How am I going to know what you’re thinking?”<br />
The man refrains from talking to either the woman or the owner and scratches his head. The one waitress that was out on the floor has disappeared, and other people have entered the diner and have seated themselves. The place is almost at seating capacity by this time. <br />
So the man shrugs and turns around, deciding to leave. The owner sees the man walk away, but instead of seeing the man as someone that wasn’t helped, the owner sees what is in the man’s hand. The woman’s purse. “You see!? There is someone with your purse in hand!” He raises his voice to the man, who is almost out the door, “Stop there! Hold it!” <br />
<br />
Man<br />
I saw the woman’s purse, but I did not pick it up like that. I picked it up after the owner decided that I was the random schmuck who would snatch her purse. <br />
He pointed at me after they’ve been arguing over it. I think he did it because I was starting to get nosey, just standing there instead of running away, like I would usually do, like any sane person would do. But I made myself plainly available to be used to make his point. I got that’s what he was trying to do, but he ended up being the schmuck, at least to me.<br />
Just to clarify, not to make the point but clarify, I go over to the purse in question. I’m ready to hurl the thing at the owner, because he’s making me a bit angry and worked up, my blood pressure is getting out of whack from no food. I wanted soup, not a carnival ride. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I picked up the purse, and I just kind of stood there, wondering why I had actually picked up the dang thing. And then, the owner really went ballistic. <br />
<br />
Owner<br />
The man had the purse! What was I supposed to act like, happy? The woman had gotten me all upset, for no good reason. I had only been trying to help her. What did she want me to do, not react? The man had come in and proved my point. He chose an unfortunate time. It was not my fault, I am usually quite good with my customers.<br />
<br />
Woman<br />
The owner moves towards the man. But the man doesn’t like the way the owner is talking to him, so smirking to the owner, he leaves more quickly. The owner is taken by surprise. With a disconcerted expression on his face, he looks for the woman to tell her off, but then also to tell her he’ll call the police. But the woman has already snapped up her coat and quickly follows the man out the door.<br />
The man walked quickly, and he is already half-way down the block. <br />
<br />
Man<br />
I realize I’ve got the purse still with me when I leave. I didn’t think the owner would come after me, so I panicked. I wasn’t thinking about why he was coming after me. <br />
I realize I have the dang thing with me when I’m about to shove my hands in my pockets. I then feel more panic seeing the thing there, thinking, what the frick. I want to drop the thing and be as far away from it as I can. But I can’t let it go. <br />
<br />
Woman<br />
The woman comes up yelling for him to stop. But, there is no malice behind her yell, since she sees the man has stopped and is staring at her.<br />
“Is this yours?” He asks shakily. <br />
“Yes.” She puffs out, after running in heels on the rough patches of uneven, split concrete that line the sidewalk. She puts her hand out for the purse, and he quickly gives it to her.<br />
“I really didn’t know what had happened, I heard you talking to the owner, and I tried to get your attention to ask if it was yours. I didn’t realize I had left with it, and that’s why the owner was yelling after me… That makes more sense now…”<br />
The woman smiles and hugs the man. <br />
<br />
Man<br />
This is f’ed up. First I think it’s weird in the diner with the woman and the owner arguing, then I don’t like the owner coming after me, but the woman runs after me, takes the purse from me without accusing me, and then hugs me? Uh-uh. Too weird. I need away, I need detached. No more attempts to go to the “real world” like the people in customer service call it. Give me my simple equations in web-languages and fixing crashed pages that need to unload some of their usage into other venues. Perhaps I’ll have to try this whole WOW world after all. I was never much of a gamer, but at least those people let you have your role play without going outside of the lines already drawn.<br />
I can’t believe the woman hugged me. I can’t take it. She’s too plain and assertive to feel like I could talk to her, and I don’t feel like talking to her. I feel like telling her off, but instead I just say, “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why you people are crazy enough to be acting out like that. Just leave me alone. You have your purse. Go back to your place and just leave me alone.”<br />
She looks a bit stunned from that. Good, she’s a case herself. I turn the other direction and walk down the street the other way, towards the 7-11. I’ll get a Campbell’s cup of Soup-at-Hand instead of going back to that nutty diner. I’m through with people fixing my food for me, maybe a microwave will be less emotionally taxing.Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-5112970889757355162010-05-02T11:09:00.000-07:002010-05-02T11:09:19.450-07:00The Ink Man.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLGa4EWsoNYcpxRwgBjJhSTbfBLVEVD3UpoI46JNdFx7rMrjhyphenhyphenTmYAGONjeyMGWTncLQpRTYlf8o73nuC2ns4hrF72qVrhelGT-fs7Z_V6O8eBARptrqVRsHJtoNVP4SVsMK9BvilFVlz/s1600/3-5-2009+10%3B04%3B34+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLGa4EWsoNYcpxRwgBjJhSTbfBLVEVD3UpoI46JNdFx7rMrjhyphenhyphenTmYAGONjeyMGWTncLQpRTYlf8o73nuC2ns4hrF72qVrhelGT-fs7Z_V6O8eBARptrqVRsHJtoNVP4SVsMK9BvilFVlz/s320/3-5-2009+10%3B04%3B34+PM.jpg" /></a></div>Inspired for the 2009 Tongue & Ink Conference, this guy became a series of fliers, which I know I have somewhere...Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-32881933521020508172010-05-02T11:04:00.001-07:002010-05-02T11:04:32.327-07:00Cracked SoupOn a sunny day, a highly-educated, white, mid-height, average-looking woman walks into a suburban diner. The diner is clean, brightly lit from the many windows, and there is a diverse demographic of people filling about three-quarters of the total available tables, booths and stools at the counter. The bear-like build of the second-generation Greek owner stands behind the counter that separates the relatively open floor plan from the kitchen, wiping dishes dry with a dish towel. He chats with two well dressed white women slouched over their cups of tomato soup.<br />
The highly-educated woman smiles at the owner and grabs a table that is almost dead center in the middle of the open floor space. The woman does not know the owner well, but she’s been to this diner more than once. Among other things, she likes the open floor plan, the brightly lit atmosphere and the tomato soup.<br />
It is lunch time, and the woman wants to order food before going back to work. She goes up to the counter with her medium to small-sized vinyl purse with a metallic clasp in front. The owner sees her and puts down the dish he was drying. “Hello, how can I help you today?”<br />
“Hi there, I’m thinking I would like a cup of that tomato soup. I’ll take a side salad with it, with French dressing.”<br />
“Would you like anything to drink with that?” The owner asks.<br />
“A cup of coffee and some water would be very nice.”<br />
“Any dessert?”<br />
The woman smiles again. “No thank you, I’ve got to watch the sugar intake while at work. Otherwise, your scones do look lovely.” She gestures with a nod of her head over to the small plastic casing filled with assorted fresh-baked pastry on top of the counter to her right, past the two women sitting on the stools. The women smile back.<br />
“Well then, you should come back after work and treat yourself. Too much work and not enough treats makes for a hard week during such rough times. It’s part of why I reduced their price.”<br />
“That’s part of why I came in. You have extremely affordable rates. It’s definitely appreciated.”<br />
“Thank you. It’s all I can think of to do to keep business going. Business isn’t just about the money for me, it’s about what I can do to make someone’s day a little nicer. I often find I get more out of talking to people than I do with the process of making sure I stay solvent.” He sadly chuckles.<br />
The working woman seems warmed by his comment, and gives him an appreciative smile.<br />
The owner goes back to the cash register at his right and totals the order. “All right. The total is $6.22.”<br />
“Like I said, very reasonable.” The woman unclasps her purse and picks through its meager contents to find her pocketbook. She pulls out three bills from it, one five dollar bill and two one dollar bills. She hands them to the owner over the counter, and he rings open the cash register with a mixture of automated beeps and the metallic ca-junk of the drawer being released into the owners’ gut. <br />
The owner places the bills in each pile of like bills in the drawer, and pulls out three quarters and three pennies. With a smile, the owner then hands the change to the woman and says, “Your order will be out soon.”<br />
The woman smiles back and closes her purse. She turns to go to the table she had marked with setting down her coat across the back of a chair. The spring air was chilly enough even with the bright blazing sun to need a coat when going outside. Yet the woman was quite comfortable inside.<br />
However, once she gets to the table, she is aware of how much she needs to use the lady’s room. She had just drunk an entire twenty-ounced bottle of Aquafina before coming to the diner. So before sitting down, she figures she should have enough time before the food comes to go to the restroom. She sets her purse down on the chair and turns to the direction of the restrooms, in the far left corner of the counter.<br />
Once she comes out of the restroom, the owner comes up to her and says, “Oh, I’m glad you’re still here. I saw your purse laying out and I wondered where you had gone to.”<br />
The woman replies, “I was just in the washroom.”<br />
“As we were saying during the hardness of these times, it’s good to look after one another when things and money are so precious.”<br />
The woman looks at the owner with an air of caution. “I’m a little bit surprised to how concerned you are about me leaving my purse unattended for such a short period of time just because it’s pretty obvious to other people around if someone were to take it.”<br />
“Yes, this is a public place. But I nor anyone else is required to look after other people’s property. I just brought it to your attention out of concern for your property and wellbeing.”<br />
The woman shifts her weight, standing in her high heels that still only bring her up to being six inches shorter than the owner. “Yet there’s no one in here that seems remotely suspicious as to whether or not they would need money enough to steel something in an open public space. I appreciate the sentiment behind your concern, but it’s highly unnecessary.”<br />
As the woman talks to the owner, a man comes into the diner. He is white, thin and wearing a slightly-worn leather coat with well fitting jeans. He looks over at the counter and sees no one there but the short Hispanic cooks near the back. The only waitress he sees is completely across the room talking to already-seated customers. Yet right in front of him is the woman and the owner. The man recognizes the owner as part of the diner when he sees the owner’s paper hat covering the bald spot in the middle of his thick black hair as well as the green order pad and pen sticking out the front right pocket of the owner’s slightly-stained apron.<br />
The man waits behind the woman, who is starting to get a little more annoyed with the owner. “Part of the economic problems we are dealing with is couched in public trust. If I can’t trust that a place like this is safe not just for my purse but for me, then why should I go out at all?”<br />
The man looks to the table with the woman’s coat and purse. He only caught the word “purse” because he was trying to see if one of the cooks would look his way. The man goes over to the table and picks up the purse, going over to stand right behind the woman and tries to get her attention. But the woman is listening to the owner. “Of course my place is safe! But it’s only when I know the people who come in here. I don’t know everybody here, and I don’t know you as well. How am I going to know what you’re thinking?”<br />
The man figures it would be better not to butt into the conversation at this point as the woman and owner raise their voices. The man scratches his head. The one waitress that was out on the floor has disappeared, and other people have entered the diner and have seated themselves. The place is almost seating capacity. <br />
So the man decides to leave. The owner sees the man walk away, but instead of seeing it as someone he didn’t help, the owner sees what is in the man’s hand. The woman’s purse. “You see!? There is someone with your purse in hand!” He raises his voice to the man, who is almost out the door, “Stop there! Hold it!” <br />
The owner moves towards the man, but the man doesn’t like the way the owner is talking to him, so he leaves more quickly and smirks at the owner. The owner is taken by surprise. With a disconcerted expression on his face, he looks for the woman to tell her off but also to tell her he’ll call the police. But the woman has already snapped up her coat and quickly follows the man out the door.<br />
The man walked quickly, and he is already half-way down the block. He finally realizes when he’s about to shove his hands in his leather coat’s pockets that he has the purse in hand. The feeling of dread washes over him. He has the urge to drop the purse, but it feels as if it is glued to his hand. The woman comes up yelling for him to stop, but there is no malice behind her yell since she sees the man has stopped and is staring at her.<br />
He asks shakily, “Is this yours?”<br />
“Yes.” She puffs out after running in heels on the rough patches of uneven, split concrete that line the sidewalk. She puts her hand out for the purse, and he quickly gives it to her.<br />
“I really didn’t know what had happened, I heard you talking to the owner, and I tried to get your attention to ask if it was yours. I didn’t realize I had left with it, and that’s why the owner was yelling after me… That makes more sense now…”<br />
The woman smiles and hugs the man. The man now dons a completely bewildered expression on his face. He’s not used to so much interaction in a public place. What seemed normal to him was how the other women at the counter had been staring vapidly ahead while they ate their soup, and the waitress hadn’t even noticed him. Yet then the owner was belligerently yelling first at this woman, and then at him. The man only wanted a simple transaction of getting a cup of soup to go. Not the shot nerves which were making him shake like a leaf, and under low blood sugar too.<br />
The man’s arms are up in the air for his defense in the middle of the woman’s hug, but he finally uses them to push her away. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why you people are crazy enough to be acting out like that. Just leave me alone. You have your purse. Go back to your place and just leave me alone.”<br />
The man turns away from the woman’s dazed expression and walks down the street towards the 7-11 to go get a Campbell’s cup of soup.<br />
Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-7028988990543920642010-05-02T10:32:00.000-07:002010-05-02T10:34:13.128-07:00The Office Furniture Mythology<span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272821486_0" style="background-color: #dceeff; border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); color: black; cursor: pointer;"></span>(Entries of Record by the Underlings)<br />
Kathy Elrick (contributor)<br />
<br />
Disclaimer<br />
about the following entries: This work is a compilation of contributed<br />
observations by the cautious, wide-eyed innocents who have been<br />
shackled to office work because of their breeding to think rather than<br />
to act up in violent retort. While often silent to their supervisors'<br />
mimicked bureaucratic questionnaire that feigns resemblance to a once<br />
human curiosity sparked inquiry, these workers keep track of their<br />
observations which the gnomes (mostly) would rather be kept outside the<br />
notice of human authority.<br />
These incomplete entries concern the<br />
inner workings of office/administrative atmospheres, detailing the<br />
actual, and slightly mythological, context which explains how the old<br />
and superstitious world works in the new mechanized office culture. <br />
Like anything forwarded in a random office FW email, none of this can<br />
be proven. But often rumors of the legitimacy of these instances can<br />
be spotted in the cases of the overworked and underpaid student<br />
assistants and interns. Whether or not such speculation and<br />
superstition should be ignored is up to the reader of these entries.<br />
...<br />
<br />
Lipschitz Krawley (<span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272821486_1" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;">Paper shredder</span> in Graduate Studies Office)<br />
the reincarnated Forest <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272821486_2">Kraken</span> (eater of Colossal Pulp)<br />
<br />
Lipschitz<br />
Krawley was a great creature of the forest,originally a mountain-like<br />
creature with cracks of earth for a mouth, who devoured trees for their<br />
possession of tree goblins, nasty hellion creatures who live within the wood. <br />
Lipschitz Krawley has been reincarnated for the same purpose in this<br />
compact box, eating the tree goblins still remaining in paper, now<br />
squished into a 2-dimensional sheet of 8x11, still ready to cause<br />
mischief and fear. Paper cuts mainly. If you listen closely, you will<br />
hear the screams of the goblins as the paper crinkles into the mouth of<br />
the beast, and the appreciative gurgling hum of Lipschitz Krawley’s<br />
satisfaction as the paper disappears into the inner chambers.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Flimitz Krawley (Paper shredder in the Registrar)<br />
reincarnated Forest Kraken, cousin to Lipschitz Krawley <br />
<br />
The<br />
grinding of it's teeth against the brittle smashed compost of tree<br />
goblin bones. The opening of its chest to find the plastic bag that<br />
has replaced its innards, defiling the lost memory of the greater<br />
intestinal being that was the internal workings of the Krawley clan. <br />
Tying a knot at the top of the bag, you continue to smash down the<br />
goblins who fill it. The hum of the beast as it gnashes apart the<br />
paper-lings reminds you it is still alive, albeit contained besides<br />
you. Flimitz is dependent on you for it's continued quest, the<br />
sentence bequeathed to it by the god that salvaged the rampaging forest<br />
krakens as they died of starvation from the tree goblin's blight and<br />
thinning from modern man, the god known as Zerox, fellow to Janus and<br />
Gemini.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Goblin scribes (printers)<br />
<br />
Common to most<br />
offices are the magicked Gutenberg boxes which imprint upon the mangled<br />
and pressed carcasses of tree goblins. The products of these boxes<br />
hold properties of many types: stories, laws, the very essence of<br />
human knowledge, binding the tree goblins to their fates as 8x11<br />
mummified artifacts. The magicked boxes are vivified with the electric<br />
air of Mercury, the messenger. It is with these goblin carcasses which<br />
Mercury communicates to the humans about what the divine have decreed,<br />
and the Muses freed from the hearts of men.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Bhafari snakes. (Corded Phones)<br />
<br />
Chained<br />
to desks these dangerous beings are obsolete connectors to the networks<br />
of the netherwerks, managed by a Medusa-like incarnation of the goddess<br />
Lethe. Dial tones, lost connections, static and oblivion are her area<br />
of expertise. Her office can be found in the void just past the <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272821486_3">office supply storage</span> closet of Abyss.<br />
<br />
-<br />
The absence of mini-fridge gnomes (why the lights went out in the frigid-air territories)<br />
<br />
There<br />
is a long story which I am only starting to unravel about the<br />
intermingling world of the gnomes and the office atmosphere. This<br />
particular quick installment looks at the reason for the absence of<br />
lights in the majority if not all mini-fridges to be found in offices,<br />
as compared to these fridges' larger cousins of regular 6" size. <br />
The<br />
suggestion that these fridges are portals to the cold territory of the<br />
gnomes is obvious. No human understands how these portals work<br />
exactly, but there was supposed to be lights in the smaller fridges. <br />
But because of their frequency in areas where there have been clashes<br />
between these gnomes and their previous kinsman, the carpet scrubbing<br />
gnomes (which will be mentioned later) who frequent the more traveled<br />
areas of the office, the mini-fridges became abandon trails which are<br />
supposed to be unwelcoming to the carpet scrubbing gnomes. In this<br />
sense, the cool natures of the fridge gnomes produced a wall to the<br />
friction produced by their former kinsman.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Carpet-Scrubber gnomes<br />
<br />
These<br />
are the kinsmen of the mini-fridge gnomes. They were former<br />
mini-fridge and large fridge gnomes who were disgruntled with the cold<br />
portals and wished to remain within the usual office atmosphere, thus<br />
willing to clean floors. Both kinds of gnomes are quick to work with<br />
the various forms of water and earth, and can manipulate these office<br />
tools to their advantage. So these gnomes are able to work the carpet<br />
shampooers when no one is asked to shampoo the rugs, or has not done so<br />
in a while. These gnomes are notorious for their spontaneity, as well<br />
as for their mischievous deeds, such as making empty envelopes left in<br />
the lower drawers be glued shut, or making copy paper left on the floor<br />
move to other spots, or become damp.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Frederick, the dead carcass of the closet roach <br />
(the memory of infestation, preserved with the gentle lint spun cobwebs and demur dust bunnies)<br />
<br />
The battle of the muffin crumb <br />
There<br />
were enough roaches to feed upon the splendor that in reality was more<br />
than a mere crumb, it was a full out mound of muffin that had been<br />
disregarded by accident of its previous claimer. The young roach-let<br />
gangs called in all their kin to join the feast in the coming night of<br />
the closing closet door. <br />
However, one of their kin was unwise,<br />
and went towards the horizon that lay at the edge of night that oversaw<br />
the inner space of the closet world. This roach-let, seeing what lay<br />
outside the cave, gave reason for the large being that might have more<br />
muffins to gasp in horror and outrage. "Shit." Was the last thing<br />
tiny Roceeda heard before being smooshed with a Norton's copy of<br />
Shakespeare Entire Collection. The being spread the dawn of doom to<br />
the community which had gathered first in feast, now scattering in<br />
fear. <br />
Sometime within the week as the mound had been taken away<br />
and the scene had become a perpetual source of fear to the community,<br />
their fears were finally realized that fateful true night. The light<br />
switch outside the closet brought the beginning of the apocalypse for<br />
this community with the man who bore the sign of "Orkin" on his<br />
breast. The community stood their linoleum however, which made the<br />
Orkin man admit the need for back up. This cell phone call was a<br />
battle cry to the roaches, a sure sign of their impending demise of<br />
their communities within the building that the little Frederick as a<br />
young roach-let had come to know and love. With the certainty of a<br />
godlike power imbedded in that canister brought in by the 2nd Orkin<br />
man, the holocaust descended upon and between the crevices where<br />
community staid, ending the lives of dozens which so recently neared a<br />
hundred in so short a time. But Frederick was frozen in this state, as<br />
reminder of time gone<br />
by, the remnant of gourmand appreciation in the midst of the folly of the unwise.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Tree Goblin Mausoleums (<span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272821486_4">Filing Cabinets</span>)<br />
<br />
Billboards on the <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272821486_5">file cabinets</span>, displaying the scripture on the tree goblins, their mortuary and simple mausoleum, capitalist style.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Tinfoil Toad/Reptile <br />
<br />
That<br />
odd looking thing that remains in the tower of frigid air, that palace<br />
of piece-mail meals which remain somehow even when the thoroughest<br />
clean has been done - it's almost as if it is a chameleon that blends<br />
into the thermometer or ice trays, the odd statue that no one wants to<br />
see the core of. Yet it glimmers and grins out at the unsuspecting<br />
passer-bys, having evaded the death of consumption by humans, even if<br />
it is an inner host for mold and other spore creatures.<br />
<br />
-<br />
The Small Bird Valets - <br />
<br />
They<br />
hold the spots for cars, standing there as markers. They direct<br />
traffic from the curb, hence curbside service. And they know the town;<br />
they can get that "birds-eye view" of the town to get you the best spot<br />
for your purpose. They see you coming, and they will direct you<br />
accordingly. They don't move unless they have to, and they can keep<br />
eye level with the driver, or otherwise they are easily out of sight -<br />
mainly because they have flitted off to the next driver's side.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Mercury on the Boulevard<br />
<br />
Playing<br />
badminton, confusing the valets. You see Mercury brandishing a racket<br />
and hitting to the wind which catches up the little plastic birdy, but<br />
the birds are not amused and somewhat disgusted. They stand next to<br />
the discarded shuttlecocks, a comparable height, before the steam from<br />
the grates often picks it up and brings it back to the wind for the<br />
next round.<br />
<br />
-<br />
Tea Pirates and Plastic Spoon Thieves<br />
<br />
These<br />
bandits blend in like the chameleons of the fridge - they are every<br />
where and no where all at once. They are the every worker, they are<br />
the CEO. These thieves are Hobbesean free riders who think that any<br />
odd budget will allow for some wiggle room of a single serving or a<br />
disposable item. Pilfered tea is their horded treasure.<br />
<br />
-<br />
The Institutionalized Gateways...<br />
<br />
Computers<br />
on the fritz, or computers emitting the sounds of their insanity? It's<br />
hard to tell, but the beeps keep coming from computers that shouldn't<br />
be on, and no one is quite sure which computer its' coming from. It's<br />
hard to tell, but this also could be a terror-tactic coup of the<br />
computers, not merely viruses sent out by some generated computer hack,<br />
but the computers denying their status as slaves to the Man. It's<br />
rumored they have absconded with electronic records from the Second<br />
Wave Women's movement. The beeps continue.<br />
<br />
-<br />
The Goblin Boxes of Gore<br />
<br />
The<br />
discarded bank boxes in the empty cubicles over near the storage<br />
closet, where only a few people in the department ever pass by, is the<br />
refuge of these stores of old files. These boxes have been moved<br />
around, bashed, taped, and marked dozes of times. No one notices the<br />
way the lids have curled under the heat register, as well as the odd<br />
markings which have been appearing on them, as if the goblin's cousins<br />
have taken over the corpses of cardboard for the sake of making a<br />
message. Red marks which appear to be nothing more than Sharpie run<br />
off looks as if it had dripped down the side of a few of the boxes, the<br />
mechanical blood of the possibly repossessed unattended stacks. Also,<br />
these boxes seem to be multiplying without the notice of any of the<br />
workers, spreading to portions of the cubicles under the desks, trying<br />
to take root and regrow in their more natural form. The water pipes<br />
aren't too far off...<br />
<br />
-<br />
Late Office Hours<br />
<br />
The air<br />
from the heat registers numbs the feet, making it impossible to move<br />
from the desk. The odd personality quirks burrow deeper into the<br />
workaholic mindset of the people remaining, creating hallucinations of<br />
paranoia in each ledger entry made, the tri-mark of Hypnos, Manea and Kronos. The dark atmosphere<br />
outside creates a false sense of security in the glow of the florescent<br />
lighting, while the fairies and gnomes start their conversations with<br />
the spirits of the tree goblins. Flashing lights on the phones of<br />
abandon cubicles are like the sounds of trees falling in the forest<br />
with no one around...Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-53779189635928102432010-05-01T14:46:00.000-07:002010-05-01T14:46:42.418-07:00Work in Progress: Black Coffee."<span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272748601_0" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; cursor: pointer;">black coffee</span>." <br />
<br />
Please don't ask it. I know you're going to ask it, but please, don't. "You sure you don't want cream?" At least she didn't just ask if I wanted cream. <br />
<br />
The slight alteration puts her as new, but not in-experienced. She did look up when she was writing down something on her pad, that I really hope wasn't the inversion of my very simple order, "coffee, black." I really don't care, but I figure I'll at least answer her, since she is staying for an answer rather than a person who seems like she would be waived off. She's not a speedy person, but she's not dumb. <br />
<br />
"No, thank you." I continue to look at my mug, half asleep myself. It's only 6am. I don't do 6am.<br />
<br />
She smiles that white Protestant morning smile that's not cheesy, but not quite awake. She wears it better than the cheap looking pink cardigan that all the waitresses wear, regardless of whether you're white, black or latina. I never see Asian waitresses, or men in general out on the floor. The only men are the Hispanics cooking in the back, grunting out their rapid fire Spanish to the whoosh of the hot flames in front of them on the grill. It's only 6am, and they already look like they've sweat off a layer of skin.<br />
<br />
I go back to staring listlessly. I turn my attention to the porcelain <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272748601_1">sugar packet</span> box in front of me. There's a slight lip to it, jutting petitely outward. It makes me think of the cousin to a common soap dish, like one I saw at this old lady's house, I think it was the aunt of a friend. I don't know why I remember that, but I pick up the small sugar <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272748601_2">china</span>. I guess the only Asians come in pre-fab form here. I look at the underside and see it is indeed from China. Although, I would think so is the ink on the <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272748601_3">sugar packets</span>. Laced with lead... Or so the TV tells me. They don't have TV in here, thank God. That's why I came here to get my coffee. Nothing but the coffee. Black.<br />
<br />
The waitress comes back, parallel to me behind the counter. A safe place, and she's armed with the over-used coffee pot. The lines that used to measure amounts or have directions or whatnot are warn off, but still match the obtuse orange of the plastic spout. She keeps a placid smile on her face, possibly because I'm not rowdy, and I'm not demanding. Or possibly because she thinks I'm pleasant looking. I watch the vapors of the scalding hot coffee rise in front of the reflection of my face in the mirror. A shaven, dark-and-slightly-long haired, white man stares back at me, not unpleasant. <br />
<br />
The fact I was shaven was thanks to their bathroom, here at the diner. I came from a night out with women who thought I was exceptionally pleasant, and I reciprocated the kindness. I'm still wearing my nice button-up, going-out shirt that doesn't fit the work-place I'll be heading to after this. I have a change of shirt in the trunk of the rental car. I'm visiting the Loop office, but I've been here before. To this diner even. This is the first time I've seen this waitress. And it will probably be the last.<br />
<br />
She comes back after taking the order of another man down the counter from me. "You know what you want? Or do you need another minute to look at the menu?" She asks me, a little more lively now. The man must have cajoled her a little. I just look up, too tired to give her the same. <br />
<br />
The menu she's referring to contains all the breakfast items known to a good middle American diner. Yes, Chicago, but still not quite in the city, a small place outside of O'Hare. I'm originally from the Suburbs, but I live out East now. I never knew Chicago this well until I left it. I don't really want breakfast, but I say, "Yeah, just give me a minute. I'll take some more coffee though." I try for a half smile in my still half-asleep mode. She doesn't even double-take the speed at which I gulped down the first cup before she pours me a second.<br />
<br />
"Sure thing. Just let me know when you're ready." She says, and gives me a vamped up version of her first pleasant smile. I think that was supposed to be a flirt. I take a sip to let it register. Yeah, this will be my last time here. Not because of her.<br />
<br />
It's Sam. The buddy of mine that used to be a part of the company out East, but then moved for the company's section out here, but he's leaving them too. This time it's for academia. He finally found a teaching job. Cheap, but supposedly what he wants to do. He'd always be talking about how much he loved politics and teaching civics lessons to kids, college aged. He didn't mind the Idol-worshipers he had in class, he said they're the reason he's going back. The righteous fuck. I don't get it, they're less motivated than the interns we get for our company. At least the company puts some fear into these kids to get them out of their consumer-addicted mentality to realizing they aren't going to make shit until they're at least my age with the minimal ambitions they have. They need to get some ambition, you can't just buy it with the money you get from a part-time job. It's the hell that the part-time job puts you through to earn it. I look down into my empty mug.<br />
<br />
Her name's Darlene, the waitress behind the counter. Thank God there's a counter between us, something to lean on while I try to get a grip on being back in town.<br />
<br />
--<br />
I had a wish to make my life more than it was. Has been. yeah, that's me, not a has been, but I have been. What does that even mean? In a time frame. That's it, life is supposed to pass you by on this linear, continual moment. Perpetual. You try and out run it, but it catches up to you, like <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272748601_4">Alice in Wonderland</span>, the second time round. You run so fast and never get anywhere, but then when you stand still, you're continually moving. It's an entire mode of being, this pace. It's not time, it's a speed. The acceleration of this time isn't really time, it's a measurement of being. We think that time is all knowing, that it watches us, it designates our lives, like Mussolini, making the trains run on time. But instead we are run by our own desires, our own thoughts, our own whims. I take a sip of coffee. <br />
<br />
What if we don't have to play by time? What if instead play by our desires, make time irrelevant, and instead just take the opportunities whenever they come - I know, people talking about timing in that. Kairos, in the Greeks. It was the moment that all things came together a certain way, balanced. But it wasn't just time, it was momentum, it was situational, it was prioritized by what you were looking for. The topic, the common ground. A plateau even. This place where you deal your deed, you do your thing, you have your moment of Zen - you get it all - all the information that was ever relevant came to you on this table-top, this chess board, this space of being - <br />
<br />
I'm left with the momentary image of the importance of that moment of epiphany over my egg white omlette, the dawn that had been so brilliant out the window just a moment ago fading into a gray morning. It's 7:30. Time to work.Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-81159238812451421972010-05-01T14:14:00.000-07:002010-05-01T14:14:06.430-07:00The Simply Sweet Absurd(Munch, munch, munch.)<br />
I hate my life. (Munch.)<br />
I can't stand my job. (<span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272748320_0" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;">Crunch</span>.)<br />
I hate that I can't stop eating. (Aomm. Munch, crunch, munch.)<br />
<br />
I feel unable to do anything that would give me pleasure.(Oo, a big chocolate covered nut. Numm.) <br />
I am powerless to change anything for myself or to help people. (Smack the lips.)<br />
I don't know what to do with my life, but sit here and eat at my desk at work. (Yummy.)<br />
<br />
Could I change? (Inhaling a breath, pausing mid-crunch.)<br />
What would I change and what would I change to? (Takes hand out of bag of choco-snax to put a artificially sweet finger on the chin.)<br />
I guess I could encourage others not to eat so much, and maybe talk about why we hate our jobs.<br />
<br />
(looks down at the bag.)<br />
<br />
Nah, I do that anyway. How is that different than any other day? (shoves a hand in the bag and takes out a palm full of snax.)Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-64682032292892566282010-05-01T13:41:00.000-07:002010-05-01T13:41:12.717-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimd5dgAC5YvV6YJcMcT-xbAGyZqSoSIlDTClhhiUOGOwIVm5k7jCCn906GyqvmH7jS7ZbUxoFnOph6PjR6_XwhRQSP5Jal-bOzf2tc5XusNAJpLHiH0qTEtWde8NYZG4fzC9rt47xSRfc7/s1600/11-22-2008+11%3B54%3B31+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimd5dgAC5YvV6YJcMcT-xbAGyZqSoSIlDTClhhiUOGOwIVm5k7jCCn906GyqvmH7jS7ZbUxoFnOph6PjR6_XwhRQSP5Jal-bOzf2tc5XusNAJpLHiH0qTEtWde8NYZG4fzC9rt47xSRfc7/s320/11-22-2008+11%3B54%3B31+PM.jpg" /></a></div>Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-53403634505225192262010-05-01T13:27:00.000-07:002010-05-01T13:27:40.515-07:00Beware the Pretty Fascist.Structure as they see fit. <br />
Cunning on the prowl.<br />
Ambition exposed. <br />
Their judgment is fierce, <br />
but oh, what beautiful Eros.<br />
<br />
They lay down the law, <br />
and we want to lay with them.<br />
We are their laymen.<br />
They are our deepest desires, our fires of lust grown flaming,<br />
Propaganda's sweet face, and our sense of aesthetics is engorged.<br />
<br />
And they have their way with us, but never in a way we see fit, <br />
continually we're kept in suspense under <br />
their direction - we want them; <br />
but to gain their love or approval, we kill ourselves<br />
and not in our satisfaction, but rather from their gross desire.<br />
<br />
This is the realpolitik of sex - <br />
we sweet maids want our Machiavel.<br />
the head of Hobbes' leviathan, <br />
oh that monster machinist... <br />
Oh to be the country they master, <br />
if only in the most wicked wet dream.<br />
<br />
CHARGE!Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-29773124017975020162010-05-01T13:23:00.000-07:002010-05-01T13:23:09.111-07:00Quiz-Show PhilosophyWho needs the college degree <br />
when you have <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272745254_0">quiz shows</span>?<br />
The fancy letters behind your name, <br />
perhaps the prestigous school association?<br />
<br />
Psh-shaw.<br />
Just get on that <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272745254_1">quiz show</span><br />
and your notoriety will shoot higher <br />
than any <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272745254_2">academic conference</span> could hope<br />
with the common household.<br />
<br />
Grandmothers will love you for your wit<br />
more than the twits in competition <br />
for your tenure-track spot.<br />
Instead, compete with the jocks, the airplane pilots and the <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272745254_3" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;">college students</span><br />
in the carnivalesque race of your life!<br />
Topsy-turvey fame, nothing as you knew it, the scandals from the tabloids <br />
will make you wrought with interest - for the valiant home-town star! For that guy at the office!<br />
Go for the jackpot! We know you can do it! All our hopes and dreams are pinned on you, <br />
our <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272745254_4">lucky star</span>.<br />
<br />
But these hopes are the philosophy of those same grandmothers<br />
who watch to learn, when school was barred for them. <br />
They feel they're too old, or the schools too highfalutin.<br />
But TV quiz shows? What trivia! What fun! <br />
The thrills when they get something right, and the dejection when it's wrong.<br />
It's this kind of iconoclastic framework that they participate in, they are drawn to<br />
because the schools are nothing <br />
but trivia to them, <br />
not worth the time slot.Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7923723576220104990.post-47813568738731117562010-05-01T12:56:00.000-07:002010-05-01T12:56:17.687-07:00Calling Out NarcissistsSelf reflection and internal dialogues, <br />
normative judgments of agreed upon <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272743669_0">social hierarchies</span> <br />
which you self categorize in your own head.<br />
Stop it.<br />
<br />
Ha.<br />
<br />
Not that you can, or that anyone else can.<br />
You are at least aware of this internal dialogue, <br />
or even when you talk to yourself out loud sometimes<br />
in public.<br />
<br />
But when you realize how safe your devolved liberalism doctrine is<br />
(thank you Descartes for the excuse to think)<br />
in your own head, why would you want to go outside<br />
to argue your point? You are already right, either way you look at it<br />
between you and yourself.<br />
<br />
There is no reason <br />
to try and have a debate with someone else<br />
<br />
What?<br />
Why are you poking me?<br />
<br />
Like I was musing before to myself, You...<br />
Politics, religion, real discussion,<br />
is best kept up for Yourself. <br />
Well I mean, myself. <br />
I do like to discuss it with me, I am my own best conversant.<br />
<br />
What <br />
is with you? <br />
What do you want? Stop poking me.<br />
<br />
Fine. What are you saying to me?<br />
You like to debate too? <br />
Ha! <br />
Real debate. You couldn't handle real debate.<br />
No, I'm not being snottish, I just know that you'd <br />
punch me in the nose for some of the things that I <br />
think.<br />
<br />
Try you? <br />
What are you talking about?<br />
As if you'd understand why I think the way I do...<br />
<br />
Do I understand it, you ask?<br />
Hm... <br />
let me think about it <br />
before I get back to you...Sire Elrickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01018335720829094747noreply@blogger.com0