will smith

oh, summer been laden with fruit flies. and autumn, she promises no relief. it's the winter freeze that will end their reign, yet the maggots will hatch again come spring.

to kill a moth

i used a piece of toilet paper to squash the moth because i didn't want to get his death dust on my hands. i wrapped him up in a ball and tossed his cottenelle covered carcass into the toilet. but i couldn't bring myself to flush. what a waste of water that would be. when you flush a toilet it uses 18 million gallons of water and i didn't want to waste 18 million gallons of water on a dead moth. i couldn't just leave him in there either because nobody wants to discover a wad of mystery paper in the bowl before they drop or dribble. so reluctantly i urinated on him myself. it wasn't an enjoyable experience but it wasn't as horrible as the moth gods would have you believe. my urine stream was strong on account of all that water i had taken on board earlier in the day and it pounded the already wet moth-filled paper into submersion. i could have aimed for the side of the bowl but piss to paper makes a muffled thud sound that is difficult to resist. when i was done i went ahead and flushed the pee soaked moth into the city's sewerage system. i'm unclear on where his final resting place might be.

spuds mckenzie

she likes me
or no, wait
she talked to me
and i wouldn't talk to a girl if i didn't like her
so she likes me
or maybe she just likes my spuds mckenzie t-shirt
because the first thing she said was
"hey, i like your spuds mckenzie t-shirt"
but to me that means hey, i like you and i'm expressing it by saying hey, i like your spuds mckenzie t-shirt
so i'm pretty sure she likes me
and worst case scenario she likes my spuds mckenzie t-shirt
and isn't repulsed by me to the point where she doesn't want to come up and say something
even if it is just hey, i like your spuds mckenzie t-shirt
we'll find out soon enough i suppose
because she's going to be at HJ's tomorrow
and i'm going to wear a different shirt

soup

waiter
wait here
i have something
to say
hold on
something is dripping down my face
oh, it's soup
it must be that soup that you just dumped in my hair when you tripped over that thing on the ground, by the way what is that, something that baby dropped i bet
stupid babies
anyway
i guess what i wanted to say was
there's a soup in my hair

bob's your uncle

today is d-day
bob saget's t-shirt is on e-bay
and some asshole is trying to out-bid me
i like bob saget
(i really like bob saget)
and i'm going to buy that t-shirt
it's a real one that he wore under his suit on the set of full house
it's authenticated
and it's going to be mine
5 minutes 'till
who is this bitch
can't she see it's got stains in the pits
(not that i mind)
he's signed it and the money is going to some kind of charity
for kids with broken something or whatever
but i don't care i'm buying this one to wear
and not just to bed
i'll be sporting my bob on saturday night
at home, at work, at book club, too
with my jeans or dress and fancy shoes
the auction's almost done
oh shit i think i've won
but
oh you stupid fuck
upped me by a buck
i'm done with these rotten cunts
(as soon as i get those slacks of allan funt's)

my dad

my dad left me when i was eight
a postcard from toronto
from that time he took my sister kate
and a picture of him with a sunburned chest
hair all messed
from the wind
arm around my mum in her bathers
i guess it was taken by the neighbours
standing proudly the man with his woman in front of the house
an antique adding machine
a t-shirt with a bootleg mickey mouse
and an unopened package of moondust exploding candy
from the USA
a long leather coat
in the inside pocket there's a note telling me that things will be okay
they're not, of course
or they are in a way
i've forgotten what he looked like now, to some degree
like me i guess on account of how all those folks tell me so
so there's that too i suppose
all these things
and the things that aren't things
my knack for a joke
that isn't funny
the art of wanting but not making any money
the music that i cannot play
putting shit off for another day
that was him and that is me
all part of what
my dad left me when i was eight

101 things i want to do before i die in words and pictures (i'm not dying)

(in progress. updates to be made at the rate of one new thing every now and again (or every "so often")

1. punch somebody in the face (not you)

2. not punch somebody in the face (you)

cups and spoons

we used to do the crossword
together
or sometimes i'd do sudoku
and she'd just drink and dream
me in my t-shirt
her in her jeans
and we'd chat of course about things
or other things
or people who we knew or wanted to
then one morning it was gone
still sitting and sipping
and talking
but the way was another way or not our way and not the same
like it used to be
her and me
now she despised me and the things i did or had done
or the way i was or who i am
and i was annoyed at every little thing
i hated her neck 
yet
here we were
early
finishing up like the days of old
before her breath began to mold
i rose to go 
not ready to go
but the time had come and gone again
and then i felt her hand
and
she leaned in for a kiss
i obliged and spent the moment
thinking about all the little things that i might miss 
but not this
the morning sun had given in to rain
as she turned back
to clear away the cups and spoons

still

again
or still i guess
wearing that dress
with the pockets
and your hands
fidgeting
like a girl
who wants to be
somebody else is there
at the county fair
it's her
and the boys are boasting
as she flicks her hair
and giggles and sips on a bottle of fanta through a straw
but her face it changes and it fades
and then she's gone
again or still i guess
but there you are in your dress
your face it remains and it's mine
i like the way it shines
forever in my mind