Up at 4am again. waking up at 4am is the stupidest time to wake up. Why does this keep happening? Let’s not dwell I guess. I have a stack of papers in a box that follows me everywhere and I found a few yellowed pages I’ve been meaning to share. This is stuff I wrote when I was 18, 19, 20? 8-10 years ago. I was heavily influenced by Franz Kafka and this guy Stanley Donwood, who did Radiohead’s cover art. Good to see I was a weirdo even then. Here’s a couple little pieces and there are tons more. I was cute, eh? I haven’t changed much, really.
I Might Be Wrong
A man is chasing me down the street, armed with a deep rumbling voice and a small slip of paper. He screams that he's sure he's seen me somewhere before and would I please take a look at the bit of information contained on the slip. I scream back that he's a madman and press on. The man yells back that the information contained on this piece of paper is of the utmost importance and he's sure that I can confirm its meaning. His voice is so deep it makes the sidewalk shake in front of me and I begin to panic I won't be able to outrun the lunatic. I manage to duck into my building and seal the door shut just moments before the man catches up with me. Once safe inside my apartment, I collect my breath and puzzle over the inertia of my life and my uncanny ability to entangle myself in such ridiculous situations. Eventually I disrobe and settle in for an evening bath, fairly certain the incident won't someday return to haunt me.
The Habits of Vultures
I woke up one morning and noticed a vulture waiting at the edge of my bed. I was, naturally, rent with terror. The vulture shifted from foot to foot in a kind of bored anticipation. I dare not move. After several moments of getting to know each other, the vulture began waddling toward me with a hungry disposition and a ferocious will. I considered my options, and finding my limbs were inoperative, employed the "frozen in horror" strategy. (Perhaps his vision is dependent on motion sensory, I reasoned.) The vulture descended upon me with lightning fast reflexes, ripping apart the flesh on my face and hands with his sharp pointy beak. I began cursing myself for my ignorance on the habits of vultures. Next, he went for my eyes. I found I had a lot of regrets.