Fuckers. Fucking fuckers. Fuck fucking fuckers. Fuck fucked fucking fuckers.
Take the above sentences and illustrate them.
1. Fuckers. People fucking. Let's say they're pink.
2. Fucking fuckers. The same people as in number one (the pink people) except suddenly they are being fucked by new, scary people who just showed up out of nowhere. They are green, these new people.
3. Fuck fucking fuckers. The green people are fucking the pink people, and a giant purple hand is giving them all the finger, much to everyone's shock and surprise.
4. Fuck fucked fucking fuckers. The big purple hand giving the finger is still there. The pink people (looking miserable) are being fucked by the green people (who look surprised) who are now being fucked by crazy smiling blue people.
Doctor Seuss should have done porn.
The End.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Ice in my Heart
I cut open my chest. I take out my heart. I cut open my heart. Inside, there are diamonds. They are big and beautiful, but they're choking my heart.
I lift my heart up to my mouth, suck the diamonds out of the chambers, and spit the diamonds on the floor. They taste salty and cold. I do this over and over. When my heart is entirely clear of diamonds, I stitch my heart up, put it in my chest, and stitch my chest closed.
When I look to the floor, the diamonds are gone -- melted. It turns out they were just ice.
And now that my heart is clear of ice, it beats hot, and fierce, and loud. As if for the very first time in my life, I feel my blood running through my veins like deer running through the woods.
You look at the logs, the grassy knolls, weeds, and other debris. You think nothing can run through all of this. And then one day you see a deer sprint through all of it, never once looking down at its feet. More graceful than any dancer or martial artist, deer know how to move.
And now my blood is like that. My blood runs through my body, never looking down at its feet, dancing through my veins.
Where did the ice come from? My eyes give off heat. What I don't look at, inside of me, becomes cold. I stopped looking inside my heart, and ice formed. It's that simple.
There are two ways to deal with ice in your body. You can do what I did, and perform surgery on yourself. Or you can just ignore it. What's frozen doesn't really hurt.
Yes, walking around full of ice will cause a lot of problems for you. Sluggish, dependent on others, neither quick to anger nor quick to cry, an irritable sort of logic grabs hold of you, and you call it "reason" and declare it "good enough". You call your cynicism "sensible", and your blindness "sticking to the facts". People hate you, tolerate you, think of you as one of those dependable people with nothing interesting to say.
And you can live that way for years and years. No one will tell you, "Hey, you're full of ice." For starters, most won't notice. They're full of ice, and blind too. Others will notice, but know the futility of trying to tell you about it.
"Your heart is full of ice," are not the sort of words people tend to hear. Some statements are like that. They just don't fit into ears.
The only real way, to know if your heart is full of ice, is to look in there yourself. Not a quick peek. That won't do it. You need to cut your heart open and stare into all the chambers, one at a time, for a long, long time.
Are you willing to look inside your heart? Do you want to know if your heart is full of ice? If you look, and find ice in there, are you going to do something about it?
I lift my heart up to my mouth, suck the diamonds out of the chambers, and spit the diamonds on the floor. They taste salty and cold. I do this over and over. When my heart is entirely clear of diamonds, I stitch my heart up, put it in my chest, and stitch my chest closed.
When I look to the floor, the diamonds are gone -- melted. It turns out they were just ice.
And now that my heart is clear of ice, it beats hot, and fierce, and loud. As if for the very first time in my life, I feel my blood running through my veins like deer running through the woods.
You look at the logs, the grassy knolls, weeds, and other debris. You think nothing can run through all of this. And then one day you see a deer sprint through all of it, never once looking down at its feet. More graceful than any dancer or martial artist, deer know how to move.
And now my blood is like that. My blood runs through my body, never looking down at its feet, dancing through my veins.
Where did the ice come from? My eyes give off heat. What I don't look at, inside of me, becomes cold. I stopped looking inside my heart, and ice formed. It's that simple.
There are two ways to deal with ice in your body. You can do what I did, and perform surgery on yourself. Or you can just ignore it. What's frozen doesn't really hurt.
Yes, walking around full of ice will cause a lot of problems for you. Sluggish, dependent on others, neither quick to anger nor quick to cry, an irritable sort of logic grabs hold of you, and you call it "reason" and declare it "good enough". You call your cynicism "sensible", and your blindness "sticking to the facts". People hate you, tolerate you, think of you as one of those dependable people with nothing interesting to say.
And you can live that way for years and years. No one will tell you, "Hey, you're full of ice." For starters, most won't notice. They're full of ice, and blind too. Others will notice, but know the futility of trying to tell you about it.
"Your heart is full of ice," are not the sort of words people tend to hear. Some statements are like that. They just don't fit into ears.
The only real way, to know if your heart is full of ice, is to look in there yourself. Not a quick peek. That won't do it. You need to cut your heart open and stare into all the chambers, one at a time, for a long, long time.
Are you willing to look inside your heart? Do you want to know if your heart is full of ice? If you look, and find ice in there, are you going to do something about it?
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