Anyone got a clue to who wrote this story?

Look I don't give a shit about getting published. I just want this bullshit off my plate so I can keep writing. I have absolutely no intention of following up on these submissions, but I'm going to keep sending them out and you can keep sending them to the garbage or rejecting me. There's an old story, can't recall writer or name. Writer has all these incredible stories, but he can never get them published. Fantastic put Shakespeare in his place good. But every one he has to burn in the fireplace on some condition. That's my goal.

Sleep paralysis awakens

Last night, the sleep paralysis came to me. Only this time it was different. This time it was in a dream and it wasn't happening to me. It was happening to a version of me in the dream. And this time my life was in danger. As the paralysis set in, a large animal like object attached itself to my back. It's head starting at my left shoulder and extending all the way down my back. Claws gripped into my left shoulder and my back turned freezing cold. The kind of cold you feel when you lay down as a slab in the morgue. It stayed until I realized I wanted to see the creature. I wanted to know what was attached to my body. I reached and reached around. But as I turned to the side to see the creature, the paralysis ended, the warmth instantly returned to the my back and the weight disappeared.

Cops

They came to her neighbor's house the other night. They waited a total of :24 before knocking down the door and discovering the couple inside on the floor in a pool of water. Set up for the party that was supposed to start around 11 pm. They shot them in the heads anyway. Pushed them down in the water to make it look like drowning, then dragged their bodies to the back yard, lit up the entire 12th avenue block while they dug. A patrol passed by the alley, got out, asked if they needed any help and moved on. Actually stopped a guy who ran a stop sign three blocks away. By 12 am, the hole was dug, the door still stood open broken, the pool gushed down into the basement and the first guests arrived. Cops held up the badges, took them all down town for tresspassing and held them the next 48 hours without legal representation or charges then released them en masse without a word of explanation. That girl? A guy she started with on her first day at the office, Jhonny, was looking into her window stalking her like he does every night waiting for that .5 second glance when she walked back from the bathroom to her bedroom. Sometimes the towel was there. Sometimes it wasn't. But always he waited inside his apartment with the 250mm telescope aimed right there.

Snuggie Cult

2 January 2009
It is a cult. And it frightens me. Frightens me that people would wrap themselves up in blanket willingly with sleeves. At a sporting event. Do they want to be friars? Do they want to be in a cult? What message do they want to convey and why would they choose informercials as a way to get their message across? What hidden messages are they sending? I can see, and apparently so have many others as evidenced by the You tube posts, why the women and children might be wrapped up, but the men? It just looks wrong period. In the home. In the office. Anywhere really. If you have bought one, I'd like to know why. If you have worn them at a sporting event, I'd like to know how you got home? Only thing missiing is a fanny pack on your waist and a blue tooth on your ear. There we go. That's how they are found. Fanny packs on their waist, wrapped in the Snuggie and a blue tooth to communicate with all of the other cult members when it's time for the final solution to be implemented.

A time for hate

30 December 2008
I don't know what is more disturbing. Finding out something horrific from your families past, finding out they knew but kept it from you, finding out that they believe. The disturbing item: Relatives in the KKK. Not just some passerby we happened to go to a rally because it might be interesting type of relatives. No. The we actually killed people, hung them from trees, hunted them down and burned them alive type of relatives. And high level leaders of men who did the killing. There isn't a maybe about whether they did or did not kill people. If they were associated with this group, Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, they killed people. Or watched people die. The mystery is to see how far it goes and how deep. Because it didn't just stop in the 1920's. It lasted for this relative, until the day he died some 50 years later. How man of my other relatives were involved? Was my family business built on this practice? Is that how they made their money? Can I actually go back into that business history and determine the race of all of their customers? Did they profit off the death and discrimination? Is that how they were able to survive for so many years? Then there is the fact that many people in my family knew about this yet chose to not let me know. Now I do realize that the unveiling of this information to a wider audience for this specific person could ultimately bring shame upon the current lives of others. Others who are at present time still alive and famous. Others who have made their livelihood among world leaders, politicians, religion infused morality plays. No, what hurts the most is the fact that others in my family not only make excuses for their behavior, but try to lessen it with specious arguments that there was good among them. 'You can't let this part of their life overshadow all of the good they did'. Let me make this perfectly clear: From the moment these thoughts, ideas of moral and racial superiority became actions and credos, not a single good moment was done for the rest of their lives. Not one. In this particular case, the case was made that there was some good done in the early 1900's with exploring the country. But you forgot to add that the area that they explored was host to one of the largest Klan poplulations in the United states at the time. It is as if they actually believe the lies and want to me to believe them as well. I think this may be a turning point upon which I cannot go back. Family or not, if this is how you really feel and this is not the first time I have suspected this, then I can't be a part of your lives.

If I'm dying, pick something from here

John Prine
Frank Zapppa
Barenaked Ladies
Warren Zevon
Tom Waits
Robbie Fulks
Dwight Yokam
Butthole surfers
Dead Milkmen
Suicidal Tendencies
AC/DC
Meatloaf
R.E.M.
Ben Folds
Ben Folds Five
Lyle Lovett
Dynamite Hack
Replacements (Some)
Gin Blossoms (Some)
Dead Kennedys

Ugh. This makes me ill. Listening to American Top 40 (for only the reason that it's the only station I can get in the gym without static) and Ryan Seacrest comes on the air and he's talking about the song "I'm in love with a stripper" and he's saying it's called "I'm in love with a dancer". WTF? Listen to the song and they have dubbed the word dancer on top of stripper. Sounds terrible and makes me want to puke. How much pandering does the right wing need in this country? They have to have everthing sanitized?

1: Things just don't happen on purpose. Every event that happens is a result of random coincidence. Might seem odd to phrase it that way, but it's true. You don't set out to do the laundry on Friday night. You plan to go to the club, get drunk, meet someone and wind up in sheets. But the ATM says you have no money, your credit card is busted and by Friday night, work has taken all your energy away and you trudge home and start the washing machine. You plan to buy the paper when you leave the house to read on the train. Put .50 in your pocket. Get to the train station, go to your pocket. Find one quarter, but not the other. Head to the coffee shop to get a coffee instead. Walk out the door of the coffee shop and you see your friend from your last job and catch up on old times. All of that happened randomly.

I dare you to name one thing in this world that is planned and doesn't happen randomly. Science? Completely random. You may plan a test, but you can never be 100% sure what the outcome is going to be.

2:You are such full of shit.
1: Why do you say that?
2: Coming on here talking about random this and random that. Like some high level new age guru imparting your evidential wisdom on the masses who don't give a rats ass what you have to say.

1: What do they want to hear about?
2: Celebrities. Tv stars. Sports. Maybe a little politics. Definitely sex.
1: Religion?
2: Not a chance. Mysteries of the unknown. They want to know that this isn't all to life. They want to know how it all ends.
1: It ends badly.
2: That I will agree with you. Certainly can't end good considering how we came into the world. Squeezed through 11 inches kicking and screaming.

Chicago 'L' Beautiful Woman of the Week

The first rule of this is that White, American women are not allowed.

The second rule is that I'll make an exception to rule #1 if she speaks a language that isn't English. That may actually make it harder for the White women to get recognized since almost no one on the L speaks except for the loud cell phone talker, the teen agers heading home from school, the gay men talking about their latest boyfriends and the 20ish white women complaining about their corporate or near corporate jobs or

"Excuse me. Excuse me. I'm homeless. I don't have a job. I'm just trying to get some money so I can feed my family. Excuse me. Excuse me. If there is any way you can help out it would be appreciated." or (while holding a 1 year old baby)

"The Lord God himself was a kind and generous soul who sent his son down to protect us. Now, if you could find it in your christian hearts to give a little, there would be joy in your soul from christ and the lord would thank you for keeping a child alive one more day" Ding. Doors open. Ding. Doors Close. Switch to another car "The Lord God..."

This award. Award? This recognition goes out to the most beautiful woman I see on the 'L' during the week. Could be any of the lines, but mostly Green, Purple, Red, Brown because that's my domain. Occasionally Orange, Never Yellow or Blue. We'll just have to cross paths some other way.

Does Skin color or race matter? Not to me and neither does weight for those who wonder. But it might to you if you're wondering if it's you. I can't very well just say, black hair, 120 lbs and get it close. Or I could and maybe I will. Sometimes using the color of one's own skin and their race is important. When that happens,it happens. So, today, 22 November 2005, I recognize the Chicago 'L' Beautiful Woman of the Week: From the Brown line. Rush-hour headed north from the Mart. You sat next to the door on the left hand side of the train. Black hair, glasses and a 1950's box shaped purse. 25 or 24 years old. Between 5:15 and 5:57. About 5'2 or 5'4. Lest you think the beauty is all in the looks, it's not. Today I saw a smile that made me smile. I saw happiness in an avalanche of desperation and boredom. That more than anything made her stand out.

There it is Chicago. Your Chicago 'L' Beautiful Woman of the Week.

I love Cree Summer.

Haven't seen her face since she was on "A Different World", but there is just something about her voice that drives me crazy. She may be married, she may live a fantastic life with millions of dollars, and honestly it really wouldn't matter if she was, but I'd drop everything to be with her. Now the voices that do it are at polar opposites. Late at night, I flip on Comedy Central and there she is singing "Crashie Smashie" about her dead bandmates. Wake up in the morning and she's talking to Clifford about doing good things in the world. At first I didn't make the connection. I saw the character on the comedy station and thought for sure it was the cop from Reno 9-11 with the very long fingernails. It just had to be, right? I'm not starting a fan club. I'm not stalking. It's not going any further than the pages of this site. Just a note out to Cree.

What can you say?

Is it possible to disagree with the president?

It is possilble. Once you are behind bars, you can disagree with him and rant and rave all you want and we won't care. But out here? Out here in the real world, in this day and age, you simply cannot and get away with it We have to know your intentions for disagreeing with him and what your background is and just how far you are willing to take your disagreements.

But, I'm not taking them anyplace. They don't go any further than these pages.

That isn't for you to decide. It is for us to probe you, your friends, your work place, your internet access, your cell phone records, come into your house while you are at work without your notice, track what kind of pop you buy at the grocery store on January 13th, 2005 in Tuba City Arizona at 3:46 pm in aisle B6 next to the non-carbonated Yahoo chocolate milk, track what music you listen to, when and where you buy your food and track every single document you have ever printed from your home or work computer directly back to you with a flick of a light wand over the documentation. That 's our job. Your job?

Yeah. What's mine? I never knew that you guys assigned people jobs.

Your job is to live where we zone you, pay the taxes we tell you, funnel your children to the schools we allow you to, keep your opinions to your self, with an occasional allowance for the newspaper and become conformist schleps in a fantasy democratic republic society that is no more real than the crappy reality tv shows that dominate the television airways.

Medicine. Doctors. "Try this pill. Try that pill and we'll get something to work. We'll try as much as possible." They don't know any more than you do. So I take nothing. Nothing for colds. Nothing for acid indigestion. Nothing for headaches. Nothing for erection problems that I don't have. In the end, this is the conversation you will hear. "Mr. Mr. we have tried everything we can think of. There is nothing more that we can do." So, I start there and assume that there is nothing they could do to help me in the first place, so why bother with them? If 90% of being healthy if mental, why would I want to lower that percentage by finding out that might possibly have something that could be cured early by taking this medication? Knowing I have something would take that percentage down to about %50 and leave me depressed with paralysis. So, we live how we live. And we all die the same. Gasping for breath while others think "Oh. He died so peacefully."

I grew up on the south side of the farm district. Up wind from the smell, but there was no escaping the farm life. Up at dawn to do chores. Maybe some breakfast before the 1/4 mile walk down the lane to catch the bus. Back at the farm at 3:53 to do more chores, homework, some supper and maybe a little play time if the sun was still out. That was my life from 5 years old until I left home at 16 because I ddn't want to be a farmer anymore. Not a farmer on their land. I wanted to be a farmer on my own land. With my own house, my own kids and my own homemade breakfast biscuits. So I hitched a ride out of town in a black pick up truck and gave my first head to a semi truck driver at a Dixie truck stop. By the end of my first four days on the road, I had made $1300 and got an apartment in a small town north of McHenry. Close to the Wisconsin border. Close enough to smell the dairy farms I wanted to be on and far enough from my father so he couldn't call me if he wanted to.

It was a love story that had no love. It was painful to watch and even more painful to not do anything. But, that's the hand she dealt us. That was how we remembered her as she walked down the aisle with another man and we sat in the balcony. Not allowed to come down close to her. Not allowed to talk to her, but forced to be there by some unknown reason. It was never explained to me exactly why, but my dad just said that we needed to see and remember. I wondered, why couldn't we just forget?

It worked

I honestly believe the person on the other side of the ouija board was not making it move. Staring at the board, I felt nothing. Non-believer here. Show me something. but then I felt a chill that started at the back of my head, went to the front of my forehead and worked it's way down my body. It didn't start until after the first question was asked. I closed my eyes, lowered my head and heard the voice "Is it supposed to move that fast?" I looked down and it wasn't moving at all, but a centimeter. Any centimeter was fast. He was right. I thought maybe the other person was moving it, but no. It was locked in tight. You can tell the difference if somebody is purposely moving it and if it moves on it's own. Youth has the power to deceive and in many cases they do. But in this instance, there was no deception in progress. This was real and scary. And made me want to try it some more.

And now for something completely stupid: Another Republican subterfuge

Let me get this straight. In the lead up to the war, Republicans called any Democrat who didn't support the war effort or the President "Unpatriotic". "You are demoralizing to the troops." Now the Republicans have come out and said that the Democrats who did support the war were free thinking individuals who made the decision to support the war on their own. But, if a Democrat, now, using that same free thinking mind challenges the President now for misleading the country on prewar intelligence, they are labeled "irresponsible"? Republicans. Can't live with em. Can't tell whether their paycheck comes from the taxpayers or Fox News.

Hello, CTA? I'd like to report a solicitor on the train...

"Attention passengers. Solicitation on CTA trains illegal. Violaters will be arrested," is what I heard. At the same time, I'm looking at an Intel add
soliciting me to buy computers and the Cartoon Network soliciting me to buy cable tv and every business in Evanston beckoning my dollars. So, illegal in this case is a slippery slope. It's legal if you pay the extortion scheme to the CTA juice man sitting at the right hand of the mayor, but illegal if youneed to sell a couple of candy bars quickly to feed your family? I get it that you can't let all the pan handlers on. I get that. I don't pay attention to them as it is.
So here is how the CTA can make even more money and yet still raise the fares annually. You have anyone who wants to panhandle on the CTA, selling god knows what apply for a permit. Permits cost $500/yr. 500 people sign up and you have half a million dollars. This allows them legal access on the trains and depots selling wares. Buses are excluded and so are any trains going north of Belmont. We don't want those fussy folks in the north shore to be triffled.

I have to fight harder and harder and harder each day to get the words out of my mouth as fast as they come to mind or they are lost and I stand there looking like an idiot. Staring at my shoes and not giving direct contact because I can't remember two seconds before what I was trying to say or do. I turn the page in a book and can't remember what was written or what I just read. It is a slow decent into white out so I have to earn as much money, meet as many people, do as many things as possible now because 10 years from now, I won't remember today. I'll remember everything that happened from 1974 backwards and bits and pieces of benign conversations that make people shake their heads with "What the fuck? How do you remember that?" kind of looks. But, finding my keys in the morning. Can't do. Remembering where I put the cup of coffee I just bought. Can't do. Every world series winner from 1968 - 1996 - Yes. What did you just ask me? No. Can't do. It is frightening because it is unclear whether it is a reality that it is happening or just some subconcious masochistic self-fulfilling prophecy? So, I have this to face. Then at some point I'll have the death date. My dad died when he was 44. Not only do I not know if I'll make it past, I don't even know if I'll make it there. And if I do, what then?

I'll pay extra for that

I've been getting and paying for haircuts for many, many years. Not so many lately, but that's a preference thing, not a bald thing.
In all that time I've never had a close relationship with the people who cut my hair. Sit there. Tell them what you want and that's it. No small talk about what their kids are up to.
Today. Today was different. I have seen it done before in obvious places: car dealerships, offices, strip clubs of course, but never a barbershop.
She was well, how old she was isn't important. Not 20ish if it matters. But, she was gorgeous East European. And stacked and knew it. And used it.
My normal haircut takes maybe 15 minutes. She spent 45 and I'll go back just for her.
She smiled a lot and rubbed up against my neck. Again, I've had haircuts, this was different. She paused three or four times to look directly into my eyes and smile. Not saying anything, but smiling. She styled my hair without asking and said "I like it much better like this. You keep like this from now on." Now, as I get up to leave, she pauses again. Smiles and leans her very nice body into me and breathes lustily on the back of my neck. What just happened here? I felt the same way I feel after I'm done with a hooker. Relaxed, confident and definitely want to come back. So I will. But, I won't say where. She's in the city Chicago. You just have find her.

Well, that's not good

I was on the train coming home from work and I heard a familiar voice. I took a step forward to see. Then I heard what she had to say.
"I told this guy that I lost all of my ids and my social security card and my credit cards and now I needed to get a new identity. Plus, I just broke up with my boyfriend after 7 years and it was too soon to be getting in to a relationship."
"And is that true?"
"All lies."
"What did he do?"
"He was all like "That's terrible. Is there anything I can do? I totally understand where you are coming from. I'm cool with that" I mean, if he had any balls and he really wanted me, he would have been pissed you know and tried to fight a little harder. I only met him like twice and was only sober for about 20 minutes of that time, so it's not a big deal. For me anyway. Ha. Ha. Ha."
Welcome to Monday.