dem bones's New Writeups

June 12, 2004 (idea)

2004-06-17T21:24:27Z

Well, I wasn't gonna tell the true story cause I didn't want to have to type it, but my conscience has been torturing me and when Jesus finally catches up I want to be able to say 'Bill? Yea. I'm with him.'

Dr. Berens had already departed for Michigan, planning a return trip through the Finger Lakes in New York. We'd spent the morning and afternoon on Martha's Vineyard, hiking around the island and generally relaxing on our third perfect day in a row. The weather had been ideal all week and Saturday was no exception: temperature in the mid seventies with that ocean breeze mixing the salt, seagulls and sunshine into an East coast cocktail that keeps you coming back. We were properly sunburned upon our return, and ready for a BBQ.

Saturday night was like home away from home. So far our trip had yielded some nice local fare - clam chowder, bluefish, scallops and the ubiquitous shrimp cocktail - but nothing beats a…

June 11, 2004 (idea)

2004-06-15T21:15:22Z

***Oh my god I can't believe this is happening it's Friday I think Jesus Christ why?***

It was Friday. Usually Friday is a good day, the beginning of the weekend. In this case however it wasn't good because our next weekend obviously wasn't going to be until next weekend. This trip was dragging serious and the commute from our hotel in Boston wasn't going make things any easier. The entire coast seems to be socked in with RV's driven by sunburned retards trying to find where their parents spawned. Every twenty minutes my IQ attempts to swerve the car into a tree or a family. Fuck it and this.

We show up at Bill's house as agreed. 10:30am. As soon as we step inside we feel the trap spring: looks like his kids are coming. A cursory look around the place confirms there are only two of them. I hope it's a…

June 10, 2004 (idea)

2004-06-15T20:04:12Z

***Being a continuation of the debunking of GrouchyOldMan's Journal of Lies, in which it is made clear that neither honor nor justice have ever crossed the mind of a sailor-pirate on a smear campaign. (continued, like I said before)***

Thursday dawned ugly, at dawn, like a baby being born to a bitch in the back of a barn. There was lots of screaming. The night before Bill had gotten us pretty blasted saluting his Neoconservative Brotherhood of Grim and we hadn't really passed out until almost 6am, which is about when that whole Dawn thing I was talking about got started. It was early. The neighborhood surrounding the cottage was apparently filled with retirees with one foot in the grave who were hell bent on gardening. The lawnmowers and leaf-blowers got fired up around 7 and were soon backed up by power washers and one guy…

June 9, 2004 (idea)

2004-06-15T19:04:19Z

***Official statement regarding the daylog of June 9, 2004 submitted by one GrouchyOldMan. Let it be known that this office has nothing to hide, and in fact has everything to gain, from the record being set straight. This is the truthful account of the Cape Cod trip, at least the first hellish fourth of it.***

The thing about Bill is this: he's a big liar.

I mean, he has the first part right - Sally and I graciously flew from our luxurious home in Redwood City, California to spend a few days in some four bedroom shack with seashells stacked beneath the porch like they were diamonds or otherwise somehow useful or tasteful. We had to drive ourselves to the San Jose airport and then we had to park the car ourselves and take a shuttle bus to the terminal.

A shuttle bus. With other travelers coming and going and…

Prosenoder's Cup 2003 (person)

2003-09-21T04:09:20Z

Runaway Mary

Runaway Mary ran into the rain.
She dashed and she darted and never delayed.
The wet and the water got out of the way, and
Runaway Mary still ran.

Runaway Mary ran into the park.
She scampered and scrambled and tore it apart.
Joggers were jacknifed, children were fraught, and
Runaway Mary still ran.

Runaway Mary ran into the heat.
She bolted and barreled on two burning feet.
The desert was sour, the mirages so sweet, and
Runaway Mary still ran.

Runaway Mary ran into the lake.
She glugged and she gurgled but wouldn't abate.
The seaweed was clawing, the waves told her fate, but
Runaway Mary still ran.

Runaway Mary ran into the snow.
She slid and she slided through drift and through blow.
A blizzard took an eye and Frost claimed a toe, but
Runaway Mary still…

The Badlands (place)

2002-04-15T02:21:51Z

"the wind in my heart
the dust in my head
the wind in my heart
the dust in my head
the wind in my heart
the dust in my head"

the wind in my heart
the dust on my hands
the wind in my heart
the dust on my hands
the wind in my heart
the dust on my hands

the wind that hurts
the dust that heals
the wind that hurts
the dust that heals
the wind that hurts
the dust that heals

the wind holds
the dust hangs
the wind holds
the dust…