Kindergarten
Return to my own vomit like a dog
Rhymes and giggles muffle the dialogue
Carve my initials in a tree, I will never leave
Maybe one day I'll be royalty
Kingdom
Kindergarten
Born late
Will I graduate?
If you wish to find out more about this topic, please contact via telephone or hand-written letter (please include $30 for postage and the time I must take out of my day to think long and hard about your questions and formulate a logical response).
I had an idea once. Time travel. Not a new idea, I know, but I plan to use it to break (or change the value of) the traditional passing down of traditional information from one school grade to the next. When I think about it, it's a microchasm of what's to come as an adult. Oh, how I wish I could smash it all to pieces. How to pick teams, how to make fun of other kids proper, how to chicken fight, and most importantly but often forgotten, how to become one of the others. Very good.
Stemsruud utilized a large operational wall; an idea he stole from several Charles Bronson movies. Those movies, Stemsruude always claimed, showed how real operations were to be handled. He took the walls seriously, and would push the seven or so levers that controlled them hard and often, reaching for a glass of cheap orange soda in between heaves. Internal gears would climb on each other with ratcheting clamor that pleased the soul. On the hidden side, various photos, diagrams and maps were available. The objects were well lit and contained key information that would never be used properly. Miguel knew that and laughed to himself most days. He got sick of watching his employer sit cross-legged in his button-down shirt and lack of pants as he smoked a pipe filled with (probably) exotic tobaccos and tried hard to appear that he was pondering well-laid plans while he moved his eyes deliberately across the screen. The home that became an emotional prison for both of them was also a stylistic prism, not coincidentally. The thick, shaggy sienna carpet and brick interior wall said 1978 while the stainless steel plant trellis that hung 20 feet in the air said 1998. The combination lead Berger to crave more attention, not realizing that he gave Miguel no new lessons for the montage.
“You see this, you see what I’m doing? I’m planning complex plans and means by which I might accomplish things. Take note.”
“Mr. Berger mapped out a key route on the map that overlayed Siberia and smoked his pipe thoughtfully. He circled several pictures of key figures and organized a chart showing his several options for how he might approach and eventually befriend…”
“Apprehend! With aggression!” Berger interrupted.
“Yes, apprehend with aggression.”
Several shots with the new camera made the moment timeless.
“This scene will be set to Heart’s “Barracuda.” “
“No, no, I’d like something, a bit more… cherishable.”
“This scene will be set to The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin.”
“There you got it. Now you’re makin’ sauce Miguel. Now I’m gonna make it.”
Berger said this slightly under his breath and wrung is hands. He pointed to a point on the coast of Northern Asia as if it meant something as he picked up an old newspaper with cat piss on it and tucked it into his backpack. He wanted to be ready for something. Miguel was disgusted, but at $3000 dollars a week, free Tae Kwan Do classes at the YMCA, and a contractually granted, “freedom of belief,” he couldn’t complain. He chose not to believe in any of this.
"No, no Creeping Death."
Rhymes and giggles muffle the dialogue
Carve my initials in a tree, I will never leave
Maybe one day I'll be royalty
Kingdom
Kindergarten
Born late
Will I graduate?
If you wish to find out more about this topic, please contact via telephone or hand-written letter (please include $30 for postage and the time I must take out of my day to think long and hard about your questions and formulate a logical response).
I had an idea once. Time travel. Not a new idea, I know, but I plan to use it to break (or change the value of) the traditional passing down of traditional information from one school grade to the next. When I think about it, it's a microchasm of what's to come as an adult. Oh, how I wish I could smash it all to pieces. How to pick teams, how to make fun of other kids proper, how to chicken fight, and most importantly but often forgotten, how to become one of the others. Very good.
Stemsruud utilized a large operational wall; an idea he stole from several Charles Bronson movies. Those movies, Stemsruude always claimed, showed how real operations were to be handled. He took the walls seriously, and would push the seven or so levers that controlled them hard and often, reaching for a glass of cheap orange soda in between heaves. Internal gears would climb on each other with ratcheting clamor that pleased the soul. On the hidden side, various photos, diagrams and maps were available. The objects were well lit and contained key information that would never be used properly. Miguel knew that and laughed to himself most days. He got sick of watching his employer sit cross-legged in his button-down shirt and lack of pants as he smoked a pipe filled with (probably) exotic tobaccos and tried hard to appear that he was pondering well-laid plans while he moved his eyes deliberately across the screen. The home that became an emotional prison for both of them was also a stylistic prism, not coincidentally. The thick, shaggy sienna carpet and brick interior wall said 1978 while the stainless steel plant trellis that hung 20 feet in the air said 1998. The combination lead Berger to crave more attention, not realizing that he gave Miguel no new lessons for the montage.
“You see this, you see what I’m doing? I’m planning complex plans and means by which I might accomplish things. Take note.”
“Mr. Berger mapped out a key route on the map that overlayed Siberia and smoked his pipe thoughtfully. He circled several pictures of key figures and organized a chart showing his several options for how he might approach and eventually befriend…”
“Apprehend! With aggression!” Berger interrupted.
“Yes, apprehend with aggression.”
Several shots with the new camera made the moment timeless.
“This scene will be set to Heart’s “Barracuda.” “
“No, no, I’d like something, a bit more… cherishable.”
“This scene will be set to The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin.”
“There you got it. Now you’re makin’ sauce Miguel. Now I’m gonna make it.”
Berger said this slightly under his breath and wrung is hands. He pointed to a point on the coast of Northern Asia as if it meant something as he picked up an old newspaper with cat piss on it and tucked it into his backpack. He wanted to be ready for something. Miguel was disgusted, but at $3000 dollars a week, free Tae Kwan Do classes at the YMCA, and a contractually granted, “freedom of belief,” he couldn’t complain. He chose not to believe in any of this.
"No, no Creeping Death."
posted by fiestawizard at 10:12 PM
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