In light of all this hullaballoo over gas prices and wars fought over oil, I propose that we outlaw NASCAR until the crisis passes. Or at a very minimum, NASCAR develops an alternative fuel program. I propose beer. The combination of advertising alcohol and driving seems to be the perfect synergy anyhow, so why not gas the cars up on the same thing the fans are getting gassed up on? If they can't do that, then do the Denver thing and legalize marijuana. Then I either won't care or NASCAR races might seem somewhat interesting.  

They keep talking about snow here. The inevitability of snow. Like death and taxes. Looking forward to two out of three isn't such a bad way to get through the day.  

I don't get it. According to the DC website, issue #25 comes out in December, while #24 comes out in February. Batzarro!

In honor of recent postings at my favorite blog...here's the ink...a laughing squid proudly displayed at Comic-Con 2003. Yes, they still call me Squid. No pics of the other arm yet. Let's just say the true yin-yang Comicdom.

My best friend is a weirdo. If this frog were toast...well, you get the picture.

No one can ever paint the perfect cloud. 

Near a storm drain at home

I stared into the disappearing water, unable to identify a clear image. Once my eyes isolated what appeared to be a consistency in the wave's motion, it quickly disappeared and my eyes were forced to refocus on another portion of the whirlpool. Leaves were caught in the vortex, the small toy boat that I had when I was seven. The face of my grandmother, the teacher who had tied my shoes, the banker who refused the loan for my first house-all caught for a moment-then gone. The faces of strangers appeared for a moment and then disappeared. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the distorted image of myself come into view. Quickly, I shut my eyes, clenched my lids as tight as possible, until all I could see was the blood pulsing through the thin membrane. I was safe. Safe from the inevitable. I can keep my eyes closed forever if I have to.

I had fifteen, or so, minutes to myself today. I spent them with a Winston and moment. While I was outside the student union, I had the chance to crouch and reflect on many things, but a duck and drake were what filled most of my time. There is a certain perfection to be found in ducks. Any animal form, for that matter, but it was ducks today, tomorrow it could be an albino spider for all I know. Today, though, those fifteen minutes were spent admiring the flow and curve of a mallard and its mate as they stood breast deep in a shallow stream, October pregnant with late season rain. The time and selection, the perfection of design. At times, I am embarrassed by the moments that I steal away from the day to simply observe. Momentarily. That passes, and I am left grateful for the privelege. The duck: clownly colored, perfectly shaped, supremely designed. Were we all to find ourselves reshaped, remolded, reaquainted with ourselves, could we compete with the simplicity and purity of the simple waterfowl? Klowns, shamans and the like, borrowed from the beasts an admiration for the gods.

Surf long enough on the internet, and you are bound to find...well, actually it didn't take that long at all. Google Ass Clown and voila! 

Say it ain't so, Joe. Yup, I put Joe J. out on the waiver wires to get through a brutal bye week in the old fantasy football. It paid off and I won, but I had high hopes of swooping back in and picking up the number 3 WR for the Seahawks. Well, oh well. Injuries have befuddled the Seahawks once again and Joe's value on the boards went up almost overnight. Foolish me. We'll miss you, Joe. And we are sincerely sorry that we toyed with your heart. 

I get the point and all, but it is the Smurfs, afterall, so it kind of misses the mark...a little. Okay, a lot.

You have absolutely fricking got to be kidding me. How many more inner circle, unqualified appointments is it going to take to get to Armageddon.

Exclusive interview...

Nick "nutty as a squirrel sack" Cage has a kid...still love the guy, but whoa!

Uh....Kal-Elle? 

The Whizzer. 

No, it's not a nervous tic. 

..0
i =u

i spilled

table(t)s

on

the coffee

table

rearrangingly

a thru infinity

each letter swallowed

smaller

eventually
erasing what comes

after i

While Squish the Klown appreciates comments of all kinds, if you are going to leave a comment that simply advertises some lame site promoting life insurance, cures for male pattern baldness, impotence, and/or flatulence, requesting donations for save the penguins, or any other topic not intended to actually make me laugh...uh, blow me? 

Thirty-six fricking degrees Fahrenheit this morning! Ice on the windshields! And all I can say is, "It's good to be back." 

we used to peel bits
of birch bark
to start fires
near our favorite
fishing hole.

our hands planed
& perfected
speckled skin
curled shavings
fed to flames.

longer strips,
layered & thick
fueled other fires
with talk of canoes
that would carry us

away.
 

october

again wash lines
emptied of the snap
of sheets drying in the breeze

replaced with
wheel and whir
of washers
and dryers
overflowing
with loads of troubles
and fluffy cycles
of renewal

chattered breath
of squirrels
barely audible
above the footfall of hunters
creeping over the crisp
vellum leaves

balding trees
turn
the forest floor
to muck
scraped heel to toe
on the welcome mat
at home

wind casts an invisible
broom across a paisley
carpet
a handle stretches to reach
the top pantry shelf
dislodges last season�s
peach preserves

the vacuum sealed recipe
passed from grandmothers
to mothers

we balk at the trees
and store our nuts
in mason jars

Thinking of Seattle, today. It is raining here, in America's heartland, as it has for close to 40% of the days since I have been back. Thinking of Seattle and former loves. Lunches and conversations built upon design and truth and honesty. Thinking of moments when I felt free to be myself, devoid of pretension and guilt. Thinking of the simplicity of wine, cheese, bread, fruit and meat. Tuscany brown bag lunches. Thinking of friends now spread far and wide across this continent and others. Simplicity is not given the value it deserves. Seldom is it that love can be found in such empty corners, but I have, and I am most grateful. 

Trick or Freaking Treat

Wow. I certainly get some odd comments. This isn't exactly a picture from one of the recent responent's website, but I figured a one tricked out golf cart is as good as another. I don't exactly like the color of this one, but it has inspired me to begin working on the script for "Caddyshack 3.5: The Day of Reckoning."

A rolling stone gathers no Moss. Sorry Kate, not all coke users are dragged through the mud, lose contracts, and are abhored by their peers. Some have powerful daddies.