Tuesday, September 18, 2012

4 minutes. Go.

Bring it. This is my four minute blast of useless letters into the atmosphere. Inside, live amoebas and mysteries and stories told hundreds of years before my time. My chafing brain searches and finds knobs of thought wrought from the folds of my subconscious. Fingers, move faster. You're fucking the whole game up. I never believed there was a monster in my closet. I did believe in monsters. I lived inside TV show sitcoms rules that rubbed me the wrong way, so I rubbed my brain the right way until it was all shiny. Not shiny, scuffed up...ready for a fresh new varnish. And I'll tell you one thing straight shooter, the clock is ticking and you can take four minutes just as much as I can. And I don't give a damn about gargoyle face cracks looking from the corner. You may be afraid, but I am brave in the face of adversity, weak in my apathy. I took a look and we got two minutes to rumble. Do you want a sip of ice water. I would. Someone spray me in the face with Gatorade. I'll dope up and mum up and you can have my medals for soldering. And you can mock me with your garters on. You can't get a rise out of me the way you're trying. And it makes you look foolish. This isn't about one person in particular. It is about everyone except me. Sorry, that sounds like a dick call, but I gotta be honest about it. Prove me wrong. Find your stopwatch.

65 comments:

  1. One minute and counting...
    Only a dick knob would hide in a closet anyway and try to scare a little kid that way. No bogey men, no monsters under my bed no sirree, they vanish with the light of my flashlight fevered brain and my two shooter. Bang bang you’re dead. Can’t scare me. Go away now you're bothering me.

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    1. Bravo! Flashlight fevered brain. Awesome.

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  2. I've never tried flash non-fiction before. It sounds thrilling and thrills are what I live for; fear is what I live in. Still, I can't remember how many bullets I've fired, how many I started with, or if I even have a gun. I may be half cocked. What a ridiculously frightening expression. Who thinks of these? Doesn't matter, the expression doesn't scare me if I don't look down. It is not the fall that kills you anyway. It is life.

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  3. What type of rat trap, hat trick, labyrinth is this? You want me to respond to your renegade, retrograde, stop on the middle of the street half-brewed lemonade ideas? Sour but sweet? Naw, thanks. I got mine. I got it here in my hip. It comes in a shiny package. You know, the one you get from the one-potato, two-potato, three-potato hand shake with no-more-mrs-nice-guy. It helps you breathe. Makes you dream. Makes you dream evenly. Overly. Underly. Cracking forth the underhidden truths you hid from yourself a long time ago. All it takes is one look in the mirror. Come on, I dare ya.

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    1. Haha! Love it. "Cracking forth the underhidden truths you hid from yourself a long time ago" Lovely.

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  4. The gargoyles are wearing argyles, lurching in the church aisles, they can't scare me no more, pulling on this pony tail, making the race, rounding into the stretch, don't kvetch, let's make this a photo finish, not diminish what we had before we burst from the gates, when it got late as the sun rose in the warm stable, when we were still able to believe we'd not have to race, risk fractures that are fatal, wait, y'all, this horse ain't done, naw, there's a gold sheen to everything, good day, good night, let's bring it, all of it, every last drop we got, make it count, shout it out, before the reckoning, before the glue factory beckons, before just a few activities are legends, new aspects, rejects, respect.

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  5. Word. That was the shit, G. Red and Black. Gargoyles in argyles indeed.

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  6. Seriously, what gives with the Air Force? Do they not understand about planning in advance? Military Ball for chrissakes, it's their goddamned prom and I've had one thirteen hour day with a fifteen maybe sixteen hour day tomorrow. Never mind that we knew six months ago that it was coming. Nope. Last minute. Best way to go. So sayeth the ruler of Bethos. Love South Park, always good for a laugh. The Cleveland Show, too, surprisingly, American Dad as well. Not so much Family Guy. Someone should really tell Seth McFarlane no once upon a time. Once Upon a Time. To hell with that. You know where that leads? False promises and Happily Never After my friends. Don't grow up, it's a goddamned trap.

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  7. "Don't grow up, it's a goddamned trap." Fuckin' A. Thanks for playing and well in, my friend!

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  8. Replies
    1. Spread the word. I wanna see if we can break my blog. :)

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  9. Three. Two. One. Fire. The shot rang through the morning, rang through her heart. She knew it had to happen, there was no other way, no other way those idiots could solve their dispute, why couldn’t they just be ancient gladiators or one of those cavemen warriors who solved things with the strength of their own bodies, with the fierce sharp edges of their minds, with a terse letter scratched off with a quill pen, folded up and sealed with wax and placed in a messenger’s bag, ridden off on a horse miles down the road. Where it would be read with a smirk and a scowl, an equally violent missive shot out in reply. Why couldn’t they play a game of pool and the winner takes all, takes her, takes the spoils of their war? Why does she have to wait for the echo to stop, for the shouts to reach her ear, for the doctor in his somber gear to take the long, slow walk from the meadow. She can’t turn to see what happened. She can’t move, her unshod feet liquid in the floorboards of the front porch, sinking into the spaces between the wooden slats, stone. Sheer stone. A hundred pounds of stone. Why. Why.

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    1. "her unshod feet liquid in the floorboards of the front porch, sinking into the spaces between the wooden slats, stone." KaBLAM! I was waiting for you, Laurie. Well played.

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  10. Three Minutes:


    I can type 80 words a minute with 160 pushing to find their way on the page. I’m not a Rhodes Scholar, and my professional identity doesn’t lock me in a cage. I live life free; I always have, and always will. If you can’t deal with it then take a pill. Chill.

    I’m slightly eccentric and have nothing to prove. Planes flying backwards over Paris at midnight, yeah, that’s my groove. It’s a crazy world and if you want to survive then you have to see it for what it is. It’s a shithole, a trash dump, and nobody wants to clean it up.

    Hate, and killing in the name of religion is a poison. Christians, Muslims, Jews, they’re all guilty of this. How can you preach peace and forgiveness and then want to kill everyone that doesn’t think like you do. You’re thinking is a little checkered. It’s a sick world, and I IMAGINE the world would be better off without the lot of you. I know God, he’s a friend of mine. And He’s not happy with the situation either, just for the record.

    All the pissing and moaning, the bad attitudes, the apathy for one another, it has to stop. Life is not perfect and you should learn to accept it. You can’t keep fighting your sister and brother and expect a trophy. In the end, you’re the one that loses. It’s a wasted life, a total failure, a flop.

    My three minutes are up, but one last thought. If you want to change the world and make it a better place, then start with yourself. Call me screwed up if you like, but that’s what I was always taught.

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    1. RUSH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That was gangsta!

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  11. I am an incredibly slow writer and horrible speller. SO I'll just self promote -

    http://benjum.com
    http://Squared-Circle-Comics.com
    http://thought-balloons.com
    http://twitter.com/BenRosenthal

    I am a horrible human person.

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    Replies
    1. And here your testament shall stand, Ben. Cause I don't delete comments. Kind of like you puked in the middle of a game of twister, though...

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    2. We're playing Twister next? I might have to sit that one out. It's been a long time since I've crawled over multiple naked bodies. We are doing this in the nude though, right?

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    3. Do you even have to ask the question? ;)

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  12. So, balls to you, you simple few who would not, could not, stand the view. And take a toke, blow out the smoke, and whisper piss poor simpler jokes. I haven't the time to make this rhyme, while you turn blue I'll have a line. Hey there needle in my arm, having done me so much harm, I passed it, blasted! bought the farm. Now, goodbye, you simple few. as I turn back into you.

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    1. Lorn! Welcome to the madhouse. Well in, amigo.

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    2. Couldn't pass it up. And I mirror KD in that I wanna go again, boss!

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    3. Have at it. Or wait for 3 mins. ;)

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  13. Damn. Is it sad that I want to go again? Perhaps a weekly or monthly thing JD? ;-)

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    1. Next one is 3 mins...yeah, I'm gonna start doing stuff like this more often.

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  14. The Red and Black Gang have started a riot, charging past they're the Heavy Metal of authors, rampaging, engaging,beating the rhythm,volume full blast. Assaulting the senses they show no mercy flinging words in their verbal grenades.Exploding your mind till your'e falling, crawling taking no prisoners, sniffer dogs pillaging your head because they know there's a stash of thoughts unsaid.
    I see you coming looking for trouble not once but twice cos I see things double. I'm faster than light but I'm glued to the floor, gonna blast a me-sized hole through the Goddamn door and run through it, jump to it and fire back atcha with my pump action spew it.
    I'm trying to make it, take it but I won't fake it as I twirl and swirl and whirl and the cat bites my nose, my toes cos that's how it goes.
    I'll try to fit but you can't pull a monkey from a guinea pigs ass. You need class but I won't pass and the buck stops here. Gonna keep on spinning and winning cos this is just the beginning, caught up in the fray you've blown me away and wallowing isn't my style. Misfit? I'll carve my own tattoo,I can start fires with you.Don't like it? Eat it.

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    1. "I'll try to fit but you can't pull a monkey from a guinea pigs ass."

      That was fucking priceless!

      E.

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    2. Nice! "sniffer dogs pillaging your head because they know there's a stash of thoughts unsaid." Blam. Bravo. :)

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    3. *That* was gansta. Mine was but a Sunday School lesson by comparison.

      "I'll carve my own tattoo, I can start fires with you. Don't like it? East it."

      Love it.

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    4. Audrey doesn't fuck around. ;)

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  15. One Minute:

    My brain wraps around these faster than I can grasp them, setting them aside to be digested later, leaving excrement of thoughts pouring through the crevices in my head. Slow typing one a languid saturday morning means this will be short, but nobody reads these missives anyhow. My friends are weird.

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    1. LOL. Nice, Kender. Now what are you gonna do when we get down to One minute officially? "My friends are weird." Ha!

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  16. I enjoyed it, thanks guys. ALL the contributions are ACE!!!

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  17. 3 Minutes:

    I do not exist. I am but the product of you, my narrator's loneliness. This does not make me less real, for I feel I'm quite a big deal. Masturbation is awkward when I'm always watching, but then again, if you spend that semen, my acumen recommends to stray from the spray, to from that arc that doth cometh my way. Imagine imaginary imaginations viewing your love-shaft's evacuations. Cyclopean vomit. Baby batter splattered all spitter, spatter, across your ab-do-men. You're spent, I'm appalled. As we wait to refill your balls, fancy a fuck? A real one, Chuck. Because Rosey Palmer only does so much.

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    1. Nice! I feel like I need to take a shower now, but I dig it. ;) We're doing three minutes next, though so you're gonna have to do another.

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    2. Shouldn't be a problem. I've recuperated already!

      E.

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  18. Four minutes? You want four minutes? Fine...I set my timer, four minutes it is. Except I don't know what to write about for four minutes. I've only had one cuppa and a smoke so far. I need to wake up completely. It takes time for me to wake up in the morning. I do it slow, in stages. And I promise it takes longer than 4 minutes. Sometimes it takes hours. My stomach wakes up about 4 hours after I get up. So maybe I should wait for the 4 hour challenge. I'm not even 2 minutes into this and already I have run out of things to say except someone bring me another cuppa and find my lighter. I set it down somewhere. It's hot and humid out today, and we have horses to move, new corrals to build, so I should be doing that. Instead I am here, watching a timer countdown and typing semi-furiously as the last minute counts down. I don't know why I am sucked into these things. Some days I cannot resist letting my brain run in front of my fingers, laughing as it screams "Keep up you fat, slow bastards. Where's my coffee?

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    1. That's what I'm talking about, brother! "Some days I cannot resist letting my brain run in front of my fingers" Nice!

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  19. I wanted to write a wonderous essay, a mind blowing dissertation, but come on, it’s only 4 damn minutes and that’s unreal, so here’s the deal. If you can’t feel I’ve told no lies, then take your sighs, and those massive thighs, and move it down the line, to the ‘pay here’ sign, just be on time, it’s a pretty forced rhyme, but its early, and late, it’s past the ‘sell by’ date.

    I’ve wondered about you and what to do when you’re wincing in pain, when life’s gone down the drain, twisted on its side, gone out with the tide, and into salt water. Salt water you say, is that the only way? Yes my friend, take it round the bend, start your gargles and wear those argyles that Antrobus mentioned…’cause he likes the attention of using wild reference and in my deference to his skill, I took a pill and calmed myself, looked on the shelf and found it bare, nothing there.

    Oh my, oh dear, no skunked flat beer, no method included, no meaning diluted. Just me and I fear that 4 minutes is now here.

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    1. Awesome, Jo! I knew you'd join the madness. "it’s a pretty forced rhyme, but its early, and late, it’s past the ‘sell by’ date." - Hells yeah.

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    2. Awww, Mader stole my favorite line!

      Good job, JoJo!

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  20. Can't. Stay. Away.

    I’m lost again. The parking lot is nearly full, sun winking off windshields, none of them mine. I know I parked right here, next to the lamppost, three cars to the left of the green Volvo with the peeling “Think Global, Act Local” bumper sticker, but it’s not there anymore. Who would want such an old thing, a rusted heap of spare parts and spit and duct tape, the radio broken so we only get AM and the worst of it at that, the antenna that won’t go all the way up, the inside smelling like wet dog but we’ve never owned a dog, who would want it? I am frantic, circling around, the back-to-school moms thinking I’m off my nut, the security cop scratching his head and thinking, “Jeez, another one. Freakin’ menopause.” I even call the real cops but they won’t come, not their jurisdiction, and come on, ma’am, he says, maybe you parked somewhere else. I go back in, I come out, and there’s nothing in that spot but some spilled oil leaching into the asphalt. Wait a minute. I came in by sportswear. This is lingerie. I go back in, come out, and there it sits, and I wish someone had stolen it, poor, sad thing, and I imagine the would-be thief, in the car that smells like wet dog, wondering where the dog went.

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    1. Back for more? Haha, addiction begins. :) Rocket lady.

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  21. I wanna right something brilliant, but I'm tired and uninspired and my back hurts like a thousand fucking ten year olds are throwing dirt clods in there. I guess it was bound to happen. Writing. All of us here throwing words at a screen so we can look at them hang there like ghosts and say, I did that. That was me. I created something. I am part of the pasty and slightly overweight club. I am a writer. Hear me roar. I have a really good one because I smoked too many cigarettes. The mind forgets. All the good memories get swirled in with the bad ones and sometimes one fights its way to the top...gets noticed. Most of the time I misinterpret. Get pissed. It's all very juvenile and that's why I like it. I have had enough of this thing called respectability. I haven't worn a tie in months. I don't even change pants that often. I chain myself to the keyboard and type and type until I'm done or my eyes are burnt red and glistening. Then I retreat into sleep and think about the past with the filter of insanity for extra kicks. I close my eyes and go to the place where my t-ball coach, my first girlfriend, my old minister, and my daughter are lost in a mall and know one knows why.

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    1. Hell, I can't even spell 'write' right. Guess at least that proves I ain't cheatin'. ;)

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    2. Ah, JD? 'no one' :(( sorry. If you think homonyms are bad, just consider for a minute: onomatopoeia Now that word formation is a bitch. :))

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  22. Whew..after that I feel the need to smoke a cigarette..perhaps take a little nap.

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  23. I'm back again like that old man at the bar....thump thump thump, give me another, dammit. I'm embarrassed by the need for it. And it can be so many things. I don't want to need anything. But I guess that would involve some kind of reprogramming and considering that it costs 288K bucks to have a baby, I'm guessing I can't afford the process. At least not the deluxe package. And I don't want some half assed bullshit. I want the whole ass. I want rootbeer not sassafrass, that was just spelling challenge to myself and I think I failed. But that's what happens. When you don't know when to quit. When all you can do it hope that next time you'll be able to do it different and it will work out. It won't.

    I hear the soft sound of someone singing from outside. Not full song, just absent-minded middling riffs of hums and trills. I like it. I think I'll wrap it around my eyes and call it a night. Read a little Shel Silverstein and wish I could write as well as him. But hell, there ain't no one like Shel. I probably mispelled his last name. I hate myself. I'm sorry his houseboat was so cold and leaky. I have sat in his shoes and it was pretty nice.

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  24. Round two well more fool you cos this time I won't hold bacc and I pack a punch when I'm on track. I shoot from the hip, always the left cos the right one is a bit arth-ri-tic. It's all a show but I guess you know that but I've tried and I've lied, man the tears I have cried, but I'll pee less I guess. Peace and love yeah I mean it but I feel selfish today, you better believe it. No more Mrs Nice Lady, I want some for ME and if it's free then why is the price so high. A paradox, I took the knocks and the clocks ticking tick tock hear that... It's time running out one more minute to scream and shout and listen. You want some advice I'll give to you, take your man or woman, hold them close, I mean really enfold them in your arms and breathe them in. Inhale they presence till your head is full of them, exhale self pity and dissatisfaction cos that's just a fraction of your reality. Sprinkle and worship them, drench them with your adoration but not in the way E. did earlier cos that's a whole different kind of story, save that for later. For now just be in this silent moment and see with closed eyes what you've got, it's a hell of a lot. Im well over time but you sent the invite and I gave my insight and my input of shite. Got a problem with it? Get your people to speak to my people, they live in my head. I really need a hug right now. I don't need to pee though. So FTW.

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    1. Up, and over the fence. "Get your people to speak to my people, they live in my head." - Loved it!

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    2. Yup, that was dope. I think you just created an awesome writer's slogan. ;)

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  25. I get the last post! ;-) Cool. Here's one to leave you with then. It took me almost three minutes to put it into words and one to type it up. ;-)


    If I could stay home and write every single day for the rest of my life, well I’d be as happy as Charlie Sheen in a whore house. Not to pick on Charlie though; I love the guy. Let’s try this…as happy as a fat man at a pie eating contest. That’s pretty darn happy folks. I know.

    But alas, there’s the inevitable avalanche of the weekend crashing over the slopes, only to take your dreams off freedom leaving you grasping nothing but snow balls. In the end you just give in and throw the snowballs back into the fray and down come the walls of dreams, freedom and hope.

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    1. Well in, brother. Now I want to just go sledding. All day. Then cocoa. And not think about the avalanche.

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  26. Wow KD superb! I might build a snow man and throw snow balls at him. Brilliant my friend. :)

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