The Amazon techno-fever

Are the product suggestions and associations that Amazon makes supposed to hurt my feelings? Are they meant to embarrass me or make me feel good? Should I greet them with disdain or should I admit some things to myself? I guess I would listen to Hall and Oates while playing Atari games, but let me tell you something Amazon: I'd lose interest very quickly.

A drop in the pond of life - #32

Brown and stained, her newest shirt was already becoming a relic. She starved for the attention of her sibling, who was only seconds away from the trivial travel back to Carnagra Falls.

She brushed more dirt into her shirt and onto the sofa pillow. She bellowed and howled and felt blood rush to her head. She thought of Jesus and Allah and began to believe that they were bullshit. Nobody would challenge her on this. She smashed a cock roach and relieved herself in front of the dining hall window. Onlookers gazed but said nothing. She pinched back the fear and heard a speed guitar in her lobes.

The desert pushed forward to give her the appetite for dessert and she spun a dream web to the tune of Three's Company. She could be strong. She felt the emotion of wholesomeness and put her feet up on a clean stool. A cool breeze wafted in from what she deemed to be a cool, salty sea and the pitch swooped low. She cowered beneath the wooden cabinet hedges and growled a chant at the telly. She then clammed up and took psychic swipe at your morals. You couldn't have stopped her if you wanted to.

A train rolled by and picked up about 20 or so people from the platform and performed a "stop and go" as the call it. Her eyes spun erratically and she couldn't grasp the concept as a slow drum beat defeated her rationality. She broke out in a final sweat and smeared the remainder of the dirt on her forearms, now pulsating electric life magma into the ionosphere of her aura. A particular blackened pulse, still containing small amounts of nitro, washed to the base of her feet where she saw Alexander the Great smiling up at her with placid eyes and the general iconic appearance of the Artist formerly known as Prince. She squirmed into the shape of a lemon and absorbed the entire scene all at once, a feat normally reserved for the authority. Today she thought she was the authority, and therefore was. This is a simple breakthrough and the cycle stops.

Sister Orchid calls and is at the location safely. The rational mind returns and the understood realms are again realized. It was now clear why the others are not considered in order that this place runs smoothly.

A nice ice cream puts the finishing touches on a hurtful day.

#31 - Support group for the millenial crew

He stepped out of the shadows in the back room of the Elks with the words, "I'm gonna be your nightmare from hell. Your worst yet."

He kept his promise. His theme song was played on a small Panasonic hand held tape player, circa 1988 and made in Japan. "Warrior" by Scandal will strike fear in you under the oddest of circumstances. Indeed, a clown will strike fear in you nearly 100% of the time.

Torrence Cleverd was strapped to the usual Elkian device: a three-legged wooden bar stool engraved with, "The loneliness of the long distance runner," in italics. He tipped it over within seconds of the startling figure gliding through the semi-darkness. The dampness set in. The swiss steak revolved in his lower gut and reached his lower esophagus as he lay. The tamper proof psyche he had developed was being tested and it was failing.

clown trick #1 - push fast-forward on the tape player whilst the tape plays and pull a long scarf from sleeve. Was this a fucking magic show?

#2 - traditional honking of nose
#3 - unicycle over ramp with cat on back
#4 - steal Torrence's nose like his uncle might do

That was it. The silence that ensued was warped in sound quality and burned in the neck. Torrence lay silently and asked the clown if he would still be available to perform at his son's birthday. Silence. The clown had left no physical trace.

The time would come. Set them free.

The Canarian Difference

The oft forgotten about lands of the Canaries, laden with transvestite, geriatric Germans and salted potatoes (Canarian style). The land is a wonder, but if you dare travel there, pray to the God of your choosing that you don't end up in a hospital watching a BBC news loop for upwards of 24 hours with the taste of stomach bile still in your mouth. A real hell ride. Then thank your God for the sun and its healing powers.