"The Waitress"

"Dave"

Metaphysical Prayer

Rooftops 

The Blessing 

Empty 

reading the news 

Happy Swirly 

Here are more 

Blogging from the future

Attention Darkly, do not adjust your computer this is all real: This is "you" blogging from the year 2030, and the world is a mess; All the trees are dead, the cities are emmersed, the oceans are brown and bubbling with polution, and for some strange reason coco puffs are everywhere.

Please, you must find a man named Balthus Frond...and tell him I love him....thank you:)

"The Norbal of the Gorbal Vats".

The twirble and his sweetie go and get something to eatie. 

The Purple Water

I live with my brother Bob in an apartment in Massachusetts…. (Or was it California? I forget.) He likes fish.

I am walking walking, walking to work. I stack records, I’m not sure why. My boss Alfred whips me when I stack to slow. He is green and has long yellow hair that snakes into the air in rhythmic undulations.

I walk home. Giant white faces come down from the sky and try to sell me their latest products. They are evil and smell. I run home.

My brother is lying down on the couch. He is fat, naked and dirty. He is eating a bloody pencil and watching images that emerge from the television. They enter the room and do naughty, ungodlike things to each other involving various fruits. It reminds me of a painting I saw once, oncity once.

I lie on my bed and force my shattered nerves to calm. My every day is painful these days. A tube of toothpaste, a can of soda, and a fish fly in through my open window. I think to get the fish for my brother but my eyes close and my mind drifts off to sleep.

“Would you like to purchase the latest in scuba gear?” A voice wakes me with a crack. I stand upright, scuba diving would be fun. I dive out the window. I will worry about getting a credit card later.

I land in bushes, not water. I frown. I hate those fishes that get to be in the water all the time. That lovely purple water.

“Just give it a try,” the face says, his voice liquidy and strange, like he is having a big feelings. The faces don’t seem to have very large emotions so I stop for a moment to see what he has to say, then a glass of clear liquid appears in front of me.

I gasp in a very large amount of horror. I knew all about the clear water. I knew about it since…well I forget. It was poison; it would frickesea my insides and turn me into a blob of jelly, and then into nothing.

I run from him. I run past children lying on street corners and playing with the newest of dangerous toys, I run past people doing handstands in the mud and a pony named Bill that lost most of his limbs in a terrible war with France. I run until I come to the only place I know I can be safe.

I see the docks ahead, and the lovely purple sea that stretches out forever into a terrible sunrise. I run up the pier and dive in.

First the water shocks me, then its purple loveliness envelopes me. I am a baby in my mother’s womb. Beautiful, safe, and unchanged.

I had been another way once. I remember it like a painful and blurry dream. I remember feelings that I wish I could have again. Feelings of love and wholeness and of the steadfastness of reality, but such have my dreams always been. I should be satisfied with my life, as god has willed it.

A hand grabs me, I struggle as I am dragged out of my lovely purple water and the harsh air overcomes me. In seconds I am thrown to the ground and my head is pulled back. An unbearable burning sensation wracks my throat, mouth, and then my stomach. I fight and couch and wheeze. My eyes see nothing, my head spins. I run and fall and sputter and do jumping jacks and swallow nails, but nothing seems to help. I fall into a puddle of gushing sand and lie there, waiting to die