The decrepit fountain catches leaves Orange and red and yellow drifting in shallow murk Hasn’t been flowing for years Mildew lazes up its body and the wind ripples between leaf rafts swirling in the muck little bubbles and waves
Once, this place rang with song The young were awake in the square eyes sparking with possibility and hormones and derring-do ready for hurly-burly and such-and-such
and now the bilge of neglect pools in a concrete tub The stars are blurry and humbled When you watch them from this disinhereted scene
The fae will draw you in They will kiss your forehead They will touch your shoulders and your hair They will hide a piece of chocolate in your dreams and when you eat it, it will become a kiss But you must never accept a gift from the fae
It will turn into endless staircases wherein you climb up and down, and never make any progress It will turn into a whisper inside your apartment coming from walls and windows and ceiling fans It will itch inside of your skull, and you can only scratch it by bashing your face into your desk It will be a black spot in the center of your sight It will be a guitar note that reminds you of a fight you had with your father It waits in basements and inside of your car No matter how you twist and contort It’s there Right dead center
The fountain smells dead, stagnant water Orange and red and yellow leaves cling to each other
you must never accept a gift from the fae
Because whatever is inside of that fountain We’re going to bust it open and drill down into it and if smoke and fire and God Himself comes hissing and pissing and screaming out of that hole We’re gonna know what’s in there
The other day, I was staggering around my neighborhood, stray cat tucked beneath my arm and a gas-soaked rag kissed to my nose, as I am wont to do. I came upon the entrance to a corn maze. I was puzzled. This hadn’t been here a few minutes ago, when I’d had an intense shouting match with a neighbor, demanding he stop beaming propaganda directly into my dreams. In a moment of caprice, I threw my better judgment aside and wandered in. Why not? A corn maze could be fun.
The stalks towered above me, seeming to sway in patterned intervals, dancing in a lavender breeze. I thought not of what path I should take, turning left and right and left again down the corridors, simply enchanted by the electronic chiming sound the plants made when I tapped them. “Buddy, maybe you ought to quit bogarting that rag and give me a hit,” said my feline companion. “In a moment,” I smiled at him. He rolled his eyes.
Soon I came upon a clearing. A great circular space of flattened cornstalks. Dusk was falling, so all was quite dim, but I could just make out the form of several other figures gathered in this space. “Hello,” I called, sounding partly like a greeting and partly like a question.
“Greetings!” came a brassy and commanding voice. So taken aback was I, I scarcely noticed the cat mashing his little catflap face into my gas rag. “Welcome to the Corn Maze of Clorvius!” A fire suddenly sprang to life in the middle of the clearing. The figures in the shadows stepped closer to the fire, and I was able to see their forms as I asked “Corn Maze of Clovius, what the fuck?!”
The figure that spoke to me was a twelve-foot tall turkey wearing a pilgrim’s hat. “Why yes, the Corn Maze of Clovius! The home of the Gods of Autumn! Sort of like Mount Olympus is for the Greek gods, but the Corn Maze of Clovius is for the Gods of Autumn. Do you get it? You get it. Hahaha!” he said, thunderous voice clapping through beak.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the Gods of Autumn,” I said.
“Nonsense!” the giant pilgrimturkey answered, “Every inquisitive little boy like you knows of us,” “I am 35 years old-“ “I am Turkor! The God of the Harvest. I am the centerpiece of the traditional meal, celebrating the collection of the summer’s bounty. The meal you call Thanksgroining.” “It’s Thanksgiv-“ “And of course you know Big Poppa Pumpkin!”
He gestured with his wing to one of the other gods. Big Poppa Pumpkin was a squat human shape, greenish coil of roots with a jack-o-lantern head and bright purple overalls on. He wore a matching purple newsboy hat and was spinning a a cane in his left hand. “Always pleased to meet a fine fresh lady such as yourself,” Big Poppa Pumpkin said. “I am actually a man,” “Not for long,” was his answer, as his carved pumpkin eye somehow winked.
Turkor continued, gesturing to his other side, “And you’re familiar with Lady Backtaschool! Every Autumn, all you little boys and girls must return to your studies!” Lady Backstaschool appeared as a completely average middle-aged woman, wearing a cardigan and horn-rimmed glasses.
“Oh, I get it. You’re the goddess who has taken on a more familiar form so that I’m not shocked by your true appearance or something, right?” I asked her. Lady Backtaschool answered “No, I’m literally just a human schoolteacher. My name’s actually Linda Reed. I was apparently the only educator who wasn’t too burned out by being underpaid and overworked to take this gig so…yay me, I guess! Here I am, a God of Autumn! Aah, crazy right. But yeah…yeah. Turkor offered me the job and it’s got a better benefits package than the state was offering, so call me Lady Backtaschool I guess!” I shook her hand and said it was nice to meet her.
“Who is that other God I see over there?” I asked, pointing to the edge of the firelight. He was a two-foot tall humanoid, pale flesh completely nude save for bundles of orange and red leaves tied like pom-poms around his wrists and ankles. His giant, manic eyes were the only feature of his face visible, as the rest was matted poofs of bright orange hair sticking out in every direction. He had been skittering about the whole time, grunting and chittering, and occasionally humping the ground.
“Oh, that’s Leaf Boy,” Turkor answered. “Just…yeah, don’t pay too much attention to Leaf Boy…” he trailed off as Leaf Boy began dragging his ass around the dirt like a dog.
“And I,” came a voice from still out in the darkness. “I am Baby Football New Year.” The speaker stepped forward to reveal himself. He was a human toddler wearing a football helmet. “And I know I am the God of Autumn you seek most.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that,” I replied. “Can you give me any insight on what’s gonna happen this NFL season?”
Baby Football New Year nodded, the heavy helmet rocking violently on the toddler’s head. “Oh indeed I can. Take heed of what I say,”
I took a pen and paper out of my pocket, noticed that Leaf Boy and the cat were both taking huge sniffs of my gas rag, and transcribed this verbatim:
NFC WEST
1. SAN FRANSISCO ILLICIT DISCO (1) Nick Bosa just got paid $34 milly a year. That is a lot of money, but it makes sense because he’s the reigning defensive player of the year. San Fran has been very good the last few seasons, and that’s in spite of blowing a ton of draft capital on a QB they just shipped to Dallas for a song. They’re starting the literal final pick in last years’ draft over a guy they moved heaven and earth to get at pick #3 overall a few years back. Anyway, they are good this year, but next year they will have like 93% of their salary cap dedicated to just 10 players. The bill is gonna come due, so if San Fran is gonna make a title push, this the year. 2. SEATTLE SPERMBIRDS (6) Peter Carroll will loudly smack his gum between his molars on the sidelines again this year. Don’t you love to see that? The receiver group here seems strong, but will journeyman backup QB turned comeback player of the year Geno Smith continue his career revival? Or will he, like so many other guys named Geno before him, get whacked? 3. HOLLYWOOD CURLHORNS Hollywood! The league saw two teams move to this very large, potentially lucrative market recently. And wouldn’t you know it, the gosh darn Curlhorns were the Super Bowl Champions of the 2021 season. And just as quickly as all these Hollywood phonies found their fandom, they abandoned it and went to a Dodgers game instead. Imagine the naivete of thinking anyone here has real loyalty. 4. ARIZONA REDBIRDS Obviously tanking. NFL teams get accused of tanking a lot, but this seems pretty blatant. They are intentionally trying to lose this year in order to have better draft picks next year, for those of you among us who are unfamiliar with what “tanking” means, and assumed it was a sex act. How else can you account for Jonathan Gannon being their new head coach? He did this: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/mM6j4qU6-ro . You tellin’ me they’re trying to win with that?!
NFC SOUTH
1. N’AWLINS PO’BOYS (4) A weak division, an average-to-above-average QB? Call the offense with Alvin Kamara and Michael Thomas a pretty good trio. The defense has been better than you’d expect despite having few marquee players. Plus Mardis Gras man! Let’s see some TITS !!!!! 2. BARBARA STREISAND (7) Barbara Streisand is a team that has spent first round picks on tight end, wide receiver, and runningback in recent years. This is the way to build a great Madden franchise. However, you need o-linemen, and you need defense. Then again, I will commend this team for making concessions really cheap at their stadium. I heard a beer is like $3? A hot dog is like $2? This is the most striking thing about this team. 3. CAROLINA VAGINA A team that has licked catlike at greatness a few times, but has never quite hit that little button they’re reaching for. It’s not quite where you think. Anyway, a team in transition that could be fun come 2024. 4. CLEARWATER BEACH BUGGERERS The Buggerers gave Tom Brady the last few years of his career, which is almost unforgiveable. He even got a Super Bowl ring. Now, thankfully, the wheel of salary cap and incompetence will sink these boats for another decade or so. Baker Mayfield is better than people think, though.
NFC NORTH
1. GREEN BAY PACKERS (3) Once again, my joke is that this has been a pretty ho-hum offseason for Green Bay. Get it? Because like Aaron Rodgers was teasing maybe retirement and stuff and ya, oh yaaah, you get it. Uff da. Listen: Jordan Love has looked pretty dang good this preseason, and this year is an EVALUATION YEAR. I still think we’ll be competitive. But the Packers’ brass has basically said we’re just gonna see what we’ve got and go from there. The team is eating their vegetables in regard to salary cap this year. Next year, we’ll have some money and use it to complement what this team is. We are statistically the youngest team in the NFL. We are fast as fuck and nobody knows how the fuck to deal with the kind of punches we’re gonna throw. It’s gonna rule. 2. MINNEAPOLIS NORSEMEN The 2022 Minneapolis Norsemen won 13 games and ended with a point differential of -3. That means they won 13 games, lost 4 of them, but if you add up all the points they scored and compare it to the points their opponents scored, they came up 3 short. Does that make any fucking sense to you? No. Because that has never happened before. Nothing like that has ever or will ever happen again. They won most of their games by like 1 point and lost all their games by like 39 points. They were just rolling nat 20s all season. At least CJ Ham is good. Get him more involved. Give the ball to Ham. 3. MOTOR CITY MADMEN Motor City is the apple of the eyes of NFL media. Their head coach is like some meathead guy who says stuff like “If you put your heart out there, I’m gonna spread some Pace picante salsa on it, and I’m gonna eat it!” and the team goes “ooh-rah!” It’s all very charming in some way. They got good toward the end of last year, but if wishes were fishes we’d all cast nets. 4. GRIZZLIES The Grizzlies chatter on Twitter is so insufferable. They view this first game against the Rodgers-less Packers as their Super Bowl. They are heavily, heavily emotionally invested. If they win, they will be ecstatic, if they lose, they will be despondent. This is the difference between a good franchise (Packers) and a shit one (Grizzlies). We don’t remember the last time the Grizzlies beat us, because it ultimately didn’t matter. We made the playoffs, they didn’t. They get tattoos referencing regular season wins.
NFC EAST
1. DALLAS STAR (2) Micah Parsons is a singular talent. He is one of the best off-ball linebackers and also one of the best edge rushers in the league. He’s my pick for Defensive Player of the Year. The offense will run Giant Toddler Mike McCarthy’s offense well enough for a playoff berth, but then you know what happens, right. Gonna end in embarrassment. 2. PHILLY VANILLY (5) Philly looked both sharp and tough last season, like a proverbial battleaxe that had killed a few warriors. A brain drain happened in the offseason, with coordinators and players getting scooped up by other teams. A greater factor, I think though, is that Philadelphia deserves nothing other than contempt. You’ve got your funny Charlie Day show. Be content in that. 3. NEW YORK BLUE PORK The Dumbass, Goofy Quarterback factory called, they want your guy back. 4. D.C.F.C. A new owner has taken control of this team. Apparently there is a petition to change the name back to that racist one that is gaining some traction. I would’ve hoped the sharp edges of time would’ve sheared you dingleberries off the ass fur of this league. Try to win some games before you start making changes. How about that? You like that?
Leaf Boy latches onto my forearm, and begins humping furiously. “Oh, hey, what?! Yuck! No! No!” I scold him, as he chitters through a toothy grin and darts off to the shadows again.
AFC WEST
1. KANSAS CITY ARROWS (2) There’s no reason to think they’ll be any worse. Pattie O’Mahomes is the most talented football player in the world right now. Even though he’s annoying to be around. He’s always just “Let’s go, let’s go!” and “Yes sir! Yes sir!” and other Gatorade slogans amalgamated into a guy. I mean what else do you expect. This is sports. His hair looks like savory ramen noodles. And I’d like to eat them. 2. SAN DIEGO CHARGERS Always a bridesmaid, never a clutch football team. What a cruelty, to be these guys. Sisyphus pushes the boulder up the hill and then gets called for a ticky-tack pass interference. 3. LAS VEGAS GAMBLERS A marriage of Jimmy G and his old coach. Can they be the Patriots west? No. Davante Adams will still put up monster numbers and be disrespected by the mass media. His release is as filthy and ridiculous as mine when I eat at Buffalo Wild Wings. 4. SOUTH PARK COWS Russell Wilson fucking sucks, always has. Always will. I’m glad his wife cheated on him with Bill Clinton.
AFC SOUTH
1. NORTH FLORIDA TABBIES (4) A disastrous embarrassment for most of their existence, not dissimilar to Hillary Clinton, the Tabbies will run roughshod over this weak division. They finally have a strong architecture to support the franchise. The only weak spot is living in northern Florida. 2. TENNNESSEE POOP ‘N PEE Derrick Henry, the monster truck made of meat, is getting old and is showing his mileage. Yes, the Steak Big-Rig may fall off this year, on account of breaking 300 tackles per year and being ground into a pulp by uncreative offensive coordinators. You know these guys lost like 7 games in a row to end last season? Ouch. 3. INDY CLOPPIN’ HOOFS Their owner is a big pothead. He refuses to pay Jonathan Taylor, a former Wiscaaahnsin Baydger, even though he’s the best offensive player on the team. Apparently, the Packers were in on talks to trade for him. We offered to trade them AJ Dillon and a 3rd round pick for him, and they counter offered that they wanted AJ Dillon, Christian Watson, and a 1st. Yeah, like I said, pothead owner. 4. HOUSTON COW CLUTCHERS Chewin’ cud.
AFC NORTH
1. CINCY CHILI-CATS (1) Joe Burrow is a very precise, methodical QB. He doesn’t extend plays or do anything fancy, but the offense reminds me of the later dynasty Patriots. Just super efficient, ruthless. Your defense dies a death by a thousand cuts. 5 yards here, 8 yards there. Plus they got cute widdow stwipes on their uniforms. 2. MARYLAND BLACKBIRDS (5) Odell Beckham is back in the league. Lamar Jackson is back after inking a mega-contract. The oft-injured superstars congregate in Maryland to dazzle for a bit before all ending up in the infirmary. Stavros Halkias will perform a bedside show in the hospital for them. 3. SHITTSBURGH IRON RODS Mike Tomlin has famously never coached a losing season. Until now. Their secondary ought to be really fucking great, though. That should be fun to watch. God forbid they ever have to go on offense though. 4. CLEVELAND STEAMERS Once, a likeable little teddy bear of the league. The little guy, just trying his best but still fucking sucked. Then they got a little momentum, beat the shit out of a division rival in the playoffs, and then they seemingly blew it up for no reason. Then traded a bunch of picks for a sex pervert QB and gave him a huge fully guaranteed contract. For what has a man profited if he shall gain the whole world but lose his soul? What if he gains a 3-14 season and loses his soul? Relegate these fucks to the XFL. Get ’em outta here.
AFC EAST
1. BUFFALO SOLDIER IN THE HEART OF AMERICA (3) There’s been some yappin’ in the media that maybe their Super Bowl window has closed. That’s just silly. Josh Allen is the reincarnation of Brett Favre, but thankfully, I’ve not seen him wearing crocs. They are well coached and talented. 2. MIAMI BLOWHOLES (6) Could be a pip if Tua Gungavajola doesn’t get his brain scrambled by an incompetent offensive line again! 3. NEW YORK 9/11S (7) Traded for a washed up quarterback who fucking sucks and is addicted to marijuana cigarettes. Then they made him the GM of their team. Nah, I’m just kidding. I’ll watch a lot more of the New York 9/11s games this year. I’m curious. I’m not rooting against Rodgers or anything, but if the team is anything other than great, it’ll be really funny. 4. BOSTON CLAM CHOWDAHS The great coach, The Grumpus, may have to retire after this season. He was the best of his time. This is not his time.
THE PLAYOFFZZZ
WILDCARD ROUND (WINNERS BOLDED) BARBARA STREISAND (7) @ DALLAS STAR (2) SEATTLE SPERMBIRDS (6) @ GREEN BAY PACKERS (3) PHILLY VANILLY (5) @ N’AWLINS PO’BOYS (4) NEW YORK 9/11S (7) @ KANSAS CITY ARROWS (2) MIAMI BLOWHOLES (6) @ BUFFALO SOLDIER IN THE HEART OF AMERICA (3) MARYLAND BLACKBIRDS (5) @ NORTH FLORIDA TABBIES (4)
DIVISIONAL ROUND PHILLY VANILLY (5) @ SAN FRANSISCO ILLICIT DISCO (1) GREEN BAY PACKERS (3) @ DALLAS STAR (2) MIAMI BLOWHOLES (6) @ CINCY CHILI-CATS (1) NORTH FLORIDA TABBIES (4) @ KANSAS CITY ARROWS (2)
CONFERENCE CHAMPIONSHIPS GREEN BAY PACKERS (3) @ SAN FRANSISCO ILLICIT DISCO (1) NORTH FLORIDA TABBIES (4) @ CINCY CHILI-CATS (1)
superb owl GREEN BAY PACKERS (3) @ CINCY CHILI-CATS (1)
There you have it. Jordan love wins the Super Bowl in his first year as a starter. A new dynasty begins, with Green Bay winning eighty super bowls in a row.
“Wow, so that’s what happens, Baby Football New Year?” I asked, a bit amazed.
Turkor interrupted his reply, “Yes! Yes, my boy! Now get in here and give me a hug!”
Their tawny robes drink sunlight each day as they shuffle the monastery grounds slowly bleaching the fabric so the elders’ garb pales like their hair and the neophytes show darker colors
Their breakfast is blueberries wrapped in a mint leaf their lunch is a spicy tea most abstain from dinner once they have ascended but the neophytes spoon communally from a pot of soup it’s leeks and pepper and potatoes an orchard grows nearby apples swell with juice and fall into the dirt the passersby are free to take from it the monks will carve faces and sermons and whatever crosses their mind into the apple flesh as meditation as a way of passing time
the eldest monk has a robe of virgin white though it started tawny like the rest and his sleeves are ragged tendrils dragging along the ground thin white netted veins loosely affixed to one another his eyes are clouds unblinking each day he shuffles the monastery grounds he never speaks but he takes the long, sharp fingernail of his thumb and he carves into the flesh of an apple what he describes into the fruit is different each time and he never shows anyone but you can find them in the orchard turning brown and crawling with ants rotting into the soil to feed the future apples
a neophyte finds a decomposing apple on the ground he fixes his dark eyes upon it finds runic equations he doesn’t understand he is very hungry so he takes a bite of it and vomits
of course. why would you know it? you are working off past knowledge, meeting each passing moment as it comes. This is how time works, right? You experience NOW and keep a catalogue of all the previous NOWs mostly vague and uncategorized inside of your brain, only bookmarking the important and relevant ones.
this is useful as the Animal Man, to have a backlog of prior trial and error to reference when facing whatever the new day brings. If I stick my hand in a fire, it will get hurt and that will be bad. If I dance around really cool and sexily, maybe a pretty lady will let me touch her boobies. Etc. That’s kinda how it goes right
Our powers of prediction seem limited to observation. “A priori” experience is a thing wherein you can use your understanding of systems and patterns to determine the outcome of a thing you have not seen before. This is like that, your brain says to you, so I reckon something similar will happen.
This is abstract thought. Abstraction lies entirely in the future. The mind takes what is, creates an architecture built upon it, and allows you to suppose. When you have an abstract thought, when you plan or wonder or any of that shit, this is your future-seeing farsighted mind disconnecting from the NOW of your animal self and living outside of the stream of time.
Less intelligent animals lack our ability to plan, to remember, to think as we do. They snap from moment to moment. They lack the juice for abstraction, and therefore consciousness.
It’d be tough-sleddin’ for any cowpoke to explain how this dang-ole universe is not mechanistic and deterministic. On a Neil Tyson-simp bent, the base level of reality is molecules and particles and atoms and all those little dudes just bumping off each other, which is mathematically predictable, something that given enough time and computing power you could recreate with perfect accuracy. Some dummies act like quantum physics somehow disrupts this, but probably not, right. like that is just a facet of the measurable that we don’t have the tools to inspect yet. It’s like my ex-wife’s vagina: we ain’t made a caliper big enough yet.
But even if you take a more spiritual bent to the thing, and ignore modern science (which I am happy to do, because I think it’s preposterous that we think now, just now, we have all the right tools and strategies for determining the true nature of the universe. scientific method provided it for us. aren’t you so lucky to live here, right now, wherein we just got it all figured out? unlike any other time in history. those dumbasses) anyway where was i going with this
Oh yeah
Even if you take a more spiritual bent and assume that the universe isn’t mechanistic and deterministic, well then some day, some day, this crazy world will end. And God will take back from us the things that he did lend. And therein, with the closing of the last page of the book there will be a finality, there will be One Complete Copy of Existence. And even if it has not arrived yet, it one day will, and that will be Eternity. And if Eternity truly has no end point, there will be a demarcation between the way things are now and they way they will be, and that would be a significant bookmark in the way things are. The way things are will have gone, so that will have been the end of time.
Please stay with me here, I’m not fuckikng crazy. I’m a few Miller Lites deep and I’m in a groove. That’s different from being insane. Don’t try to get deep into my groove though. That’s just not how I roll.
A lot of people smarter than me have said that human beings are 3D creatures existing in a 4D world. Maybe it’s 13D. I don’t know. We have immediate access and control over three dimensions, height, width, and depth, I think. They tend to place time as the next dimension up, which we also experience too, but just not in a controlling way. We are subject to it. I can move freely in space, but in time, I am just along for the ride.
We are in that 4th dimension though, bro. We’re a pattern that is coherent throughout that world. None of my physical body is the same one I inhabited even 10 years ago. What is this “me”? Our bodily cells die and regrow all the time but there’s this continuity of something, man!
Alan Moore is a great writer and he said something about important moments having a weight in spacetime, that they affect the gravity moving back and forward in the timeline. He said that in 1999, and asked if you could feel something coming. It was probably 9/11 right? That sunk the collective consciousness into itself. I think it’s happening now. I think we’re walking downhill. Maybe good, bad. I don’t know. I feel the gravity.
We don’t know the future. Maybe we don’t allow ourselves to. It might be forbidden. It’s probably a little scary. It’s probably beautiful.
We will all touch eternity just for a moment, right at the scariest part.
they come in from farming and fields they come in from hunting and hills they come in from gathering and gardens they come in when the sun is going away
the sky gives them light each day so that they may toil and strain and pursue under her rules but when they come in a fire is made
they come in and build a fire and talk to each other about what happened and in the fire is light and warmth a tiny child of what the sun gave them but this fire that they made is not from the sky, is not for surviving on the earth this fire is from them, for them it is for the mind and the soul it is not for the body but for everything else
when the sun is in the sky all is bright, stark, and bare when the sun is gone all is dark, occluded, and mysterious the fire, with all of their people ringing it that is what can be known they come in and they speak and they find each others’ faces and it starts to become known
Jesus said that he was coming back very soon and that when he did, Heaven would overlay Earth
so why has it taken like 2,000 years? That’s a Long Time! What’s up, Jesus?! Have you been hitting the “snooze” button a little too much?!
Nah, fam. Dude said “The Kingdom of God is within you. (Luke 17:21, for you pedantic nerds)” And a fella by the name of N.T. Wright said a very wise thing: ““Jesus’s resurrection is the beginning of God’s new project not to snatch people away from earth to heaven but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord’s Prayer is about.” But he was also like, anti-gay or something so maybe he’s not totally awesome but you get what I’m driving at here, right?
The Project that Jesus took up was not one of further mystifying religion and propogating arcane rituals and innate hierarchy. Dude said you have to love everyone, even and especially your enemies, you have to forgive, you have to repent when you have wronged another person. He did not say that you can do whatever you want here on this material plane, and as long as you say you like him, that you’ll get into Heaven. I’m looking at you, Evangelicals. Those dirty Evangelicals love to point to John 14:6, “Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me,” and apparently centralize this verse to mean that you stamp your card to get into Heaven ONLY through believing in Jesus, whatever that means to them. There is no Good Works, there is no inventory of sins vs. good deeds. Any serial killer goes to paradise by simply saying “jesus rules” right before they die.
However, there is a Gnostic lightning bolt of a next line in this book. The Bible. “If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him,” This line indicates that Jesus is anticipating the posers, the hangers-on, who take the prior line and run with it. They trash the world and their life like it’s a cheap hotel room and they paid for it with a prepaid debit card that only has like $119 on it anyway. This line implies there is a fake way to know him. That’s what these bible-thumper anti-abortion fucks do. Falsely know Christ. It is more of a lifestyle brand to them than it is a religion.
The Kingdom of God is within you, little dog. Heaven is a choice that we have to collectively make. We could have a world where love for one another is given the top priority, but we do not. We feel like resources are scarce, we feel like we have to be impressive, we get way too tied up in the demiurgical material plane, little dog. This physical world fucking sucks, first of all, write that down. But if you have a quiet moment here or there, you get uncomfortable. Drown it out with music or videos or whatever. Noise. Noise, baby! Buy something! Treat yourself! Capitalism!
It is a truly Satanic idea that you are the only sentience that exists. So many people live with this mindset. The universe exists purely within my own perception, and it’s about a 5 foot circle around my head. Capitalism will do that. Made to feel vacuous and inferior, right from the jump. You must run this race, you must accumulate.
Anyway, perseverate in a place of nature sometimes. Let your head drift to whatever thoughts it might. You may see things, small and mysterious, and they’ll extrapolate out into very large and tearfully beautiful ideas. Know that Christ was trying to transplant Heaven onto Earth. Wish to be calm and kind. When you finally punch out, a young person picks up your shift. Make it easier for them. It can be Known. It just takes some effort.
i was a boy i had a net to catch butterflies and other bugs and i wandered into the swamp down by the creek and I stood on the moss and shoal and mushrooms looking at these water striders skating over the surface tension of the water like it was always their way refracting the light in little impressions underneath their feet
and I leaned over too far and I fell into the creek for a second i was panicked in the water shallow and dirty and I stood up alarmed and agitated and I took my little net and held it up in the air when a child wants attention, you hold your arm up as to be called on as to reach an adult’s eyeline Standing sopping wet in that creek, I stood and raised the buttefly net and asked for an adult to come make it right and I knew it wouldn’t happen I was the only person here And after a second of embarassment I raised my leg and stepped onto that loamy shore And the water striders rode the ripples as I arose a new person without that safety of childhood muddy and wet legs striding into a new world
I had to solve my own problems and the butterfly net leaked prismatic bubbles down into the soft soil Water striders dashed over sacred water and a baptism was realized.
I am Professor Lucas Bonehard, PhD. I hold many degrees in mathematics and physics, and have had the honor of solving a few “unsolvable” equations in my time. That being said, I still furrow my brow a bit at calculating exactly how much to tip my barista when I make the occasional foray to Starbucks. My attempt at humor. Please forgive me.
I find that people from other walks of life aren’t quite sure what to make of me when I explain my livelihood to them. Many of them will sort of rock back a bit in their stance, sort of feigning being impressed that I’m accomplished in the “hardest” of the sciences, as it were. And then, to sort of bridge the gap, they will relay to me that they are terrible at maths, and that they were too dim to find any of it engaging, and so on and so forth. They associate maths with chalkboards and a droning instructor and a sort of basic lack of humanity.
This, I feel, is one of the great injustices of our time and a fundamental failing of the Western education system. I feel very strongly about this. Maths is not boring. Maths is not some sort of dull, intellectual wankery. Our models of conveying the grandeur and very real application of maths are so wrong-headed, so basically wrong, that I feel I must make a strident declaration to the exact opposite. I will stand like Martin Luther, on Plymouth Rock, and plant the Rhodesian flag in honor of Muhammad about this.
In numbers, there is all of reality. Philosophers of all stripes ponder “Was maths invented or discovered?” I couldn’t give a damn less. The fact is: numbers are here now, and they are not dry, abstract constructs. They are viable, living, knowable personalities, and once you understand this, the schema for knowing it all is unlocked. Don’t believe me? It’s a bold claim, I acknowledge. However, try to disprove this analysis. Here are some fundamental truths about numbers.
82: This number is very chill. 82 doesn’t have big plans, doesn’t imagine itself to be anything special. However, divisible by a lot of other factors, gets along with everybody. 82 is living in a pretty nice apartment, isn’t looking to upgrade, and drives a ten year old car. You can stop on by anytime, and 82 offers you a beer and has a funny story to tell you.
40: Bit of an authoritarian, but for no good reason. Very formal, rigid. Wants everybody on time and gets pissy when they are not. But you can see through it. 40 “dresses not for the job they have, but the one they want” even at like, informal events. 40 wants to seem like they have some big project they are working on, so they’ll hint at it to you in conversation, but if you call them on it and start asking them about it, they drop it completely.
9: 9 is fucking awesome dude. Just has a really infectious vibe. Somebody who when they show up, everybody goes “Hey 9!” But doesn’t get an ego about it. 9 looks you in the eye and talks to you like you’re the only person in the room, but then they’ll just grab a guitar and start noodling some awesome Jimi Hendrix type shit in the next moment. We should hang out with 9 more.
111: Ohjesusfuck! What the fuck is that?! Ah! Is that some fucking insect or something? What the fuck?! This like, utilitarian brain that is never tired and also completely devoid of desire. Just a completely fucking evil-ah fuck, I can’t look at it anymore. Get it the fuck out of here.
6: Precocious, but a bit much. 6 is a hoot at first blush, but ends up being exhausting. Overstays it’s welcome, and you think like “Man, 6 is extroverted, but not social.”
424: A sagely number. Wise and contemplative. 424 will take a long time to speak, but when it does, it’s a very interesting story. It’s something you’ve never done, but you can relate to it. 424 may be a bit long in the tooth, but it’s got wisdom.
38: In a red dress at the end of the bar. The cloth flows around her curves. She’s smokin’ a cigarette out of one of those cigarette holders, 38 with all the body a man wants exactly where he wants it. I’m trying to hold it together but she sees me and her gloved hand beckons me over. Hubba hubba, I thinks. I follow the smoke trail of her cigarette over to her like I’m on tracks and she says to me “If a football team scores five touchdowns and makes all their extra points and also one field goal, that’s me baby!” And I loudly fart and ruin everything. But 38, if you are reading this, you are dynamite. A true queen of the neon.
4: Pretty good number. Hard worker. Keeps his nose to the grindstone. A family man. Likes to follow a routine. You’d never know that he was into pegging.
521: A complete mess. Window blinds in a trailer park, covered in cobwebs. This is just not the type of thing we want to contemplate. Like a very, very negative hippy colony. I think I hear gunfire…
8: A very bouncy number. Boing! A big piggy with a squishy belly just bounced up and said “BOING!”
5003: A free spirit. One of the last ones, really. An open road and a dream is all 5003 needs. Has a daughter that he cares for deeply, but Mom is such an obstacle. He keeps a polaroid of her taped to the side mirror of his hog as he drives that salt desert future. Heavy metal music seems to echo over the canyons as he ventures into the dark awake and unafraid.
If’n a man’s lucky, he’ll live the better part of a century. The bitch of the thing is, though, that he’ll spend the latter half wishin’ he was in the first half. Them later decades have eyes for the early ones. Just how folks are built, I s’pose.
Calls to mind my great granpappy. Not sure why. I suppose his life of ramblin’, wheelin’ and dealin’, and the general unknowin’ of things seems appealing. The hell of livin’ now is that you can find out any fact, but it don’t make you know anything. We got the bits ‘n pieces, but it’s too scattered somehow.
My great granpappy was named Flood Mud Johnson. Can’t find his Christian name, s’far as I’ve looked. Flood Mud. Ain’t that some shit. Reckon he was probably called Matthew or Luke or some Christian name. Not Flood Mud. But I guess he took that name and it suited him. Born in 1887, died in 1923. Flood Mud was a drifter. Kept ramblin’ from town to town, looking for work or women or whatever the night could provide. He’d guess your birthday for a biscuit. Won a lot of biscuits that way. Never could figure how he knew a birthday just from lookin’ at a man…
Flood Mud kept a length of twine for a belt and a clay jug slung over his shoulder. “Just fill the jug with whiskey,” he said, “And I’ll be the hardest damn worker you’ve ever had.” That’s a family trait. I’d take my pay in whiskey if’n I had the chance. Instead, I’ve got a time card and a percentage taken from my check for miscellaneous otherdoings.
Sleepin’ in hollowed out trees, taking a bath in a lake. Flood Mud could whistle like an angel. He’d dance on bartops and woo the women with his sapphire eyes. He stunk to high heaven, but everybody did in those days. A drifter with mischevious mirth in his soul.
Flood Mud died when he got bit by a copperhead hitchin’ in New Mexico. He crawled to a cactus and bit into it and suckled it’s tough green teats like they were his newborn instincts. The venom clotted his blood and closed the book on a hard-workin’ hobo.
Sometimes the morning has a charge. Flood Mud wakes to a favorable sunrise, and those sapphires spark at the edges. He’s alive. Today’s going to be a good day.
Mitch Paulson: Welcome, football fans, to the 2012 GSFL Championship game, presented this fine Tuesday afternoon by Jiffy Lube. A raucous crowd of about 318 people have sparsely packed the bleachers here for what is sure to be a legendary confrontation between two of the best teams our league has ever produced. Your analysis, Jerry? Jerry Joof: Well absolutely, Mitch, and I want to just first give a shoutout to the grounds crew here in Roswell. Hats off to these guys. A number of local high schoolers seemed to have had a bonfire party here last night, they burned a huge hole into the grass right at the 50 yard line, but other than it being charred black earth over about a quarter of the midfield line, you can barely notice, so hats off to those guys. And what a matchup we have today, I’m looking forward to calling this game. Mitch Paulson: Indeed, the turf here is always a factor, mostly being loose piles of grass and straw spread over a desert. We turn now to the opening kickoff. Jerry Joof: And this is a little bit confusing right? Because the Roswell Visitors are hosting the game, so they’re the home team. But the visitors are the Tucson Roadrunners. So if I say it’s the visitors’ ball, you might think I’m talking about Tucson, but I might actually mean the home team, the Roswell Visitors, so you just have to pay attention to the game. Mitch Paulson: I’m already regretting drinking with you before the game, Jerry. High, booming kick and that’ll just bounce out of the back of the endzone. The Roadrunners offense gets to work, they are the visiting team, okay? Yeah. Against the Visitors defense. Christ, where’s that bottle? First and ten.
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Mitch Paulson: 3rd and 9, feels like a big play already in this one. Dontrell Fibonnaci, changing the play at the line. Saw something he didn’t like. There’s the snap and he trips and falls onto his back. Jerry Joof: Uh-oohh… Mitch Paulson: His own lineman stepped back, and I think- Jerry Joof: Yep. His right guard stepped back off the snap and stepped onto his foot. Mitch Paulson: You can see here- Jerry Joof: Right. Right guard pops back off the snap, and his left foot just pinches Dontrell’s right onto the ground when he’s trying to drop back. Mitch Paulson: Oh, and now when he’s trying to stand up, his pants- Jerry Joof: Yes, the ankle of his pants is still pinned under his guard! Mitch Paulson: His pants have just been pulled down by the waist. Pressure down around his ankle, just…oh my… Jerry Joof: Yeah, and he doesn’t seem to notice. Mitch Paulson: Wow. Jerry Joof: Y’know, when the adrenaline is pumping in a championship game- Mitch Paulson: His pants are around his ankles and everybody can see his penis. I mean, just incredible- Jerry Joof: And it’s big! Mitch Paulson: It is! Look at that thing! Jerry Joof: Sideline trainers, trying to come onto the field to get his pants in order- Mitch Paulson: He’s just walking around with a huge dong hanging out! Jerry Joof: Well, would you expect anything else? Oh, there we go, the trainers are tucking it back in. Just confirms what we’ve all been thinking. Confidence, poise. I mean look at that thing. Here’s the replay. About as big as my forearm, I’m not even going to lie… Mitch Paulson: 4th and 14 and the punter is jogging out onto the field. =======
Mitch Paulson: 3rd and Goal, obviously a huge play in this contest as we near halftime. Jerry Joof: Watch for them to hand it to the fullback, Alligator Micheals. He’s a goal-line specialist for them, he’s stout and compact, he- Mitch Paulson: Oh and suddenly there’s a timeout. Jerry Joof: Yep, you saw that too, right? Mitch Paulson: Indeed I did, the ball was lined up on a fire ant mound, and the fire ants came out and started biting the center’s hand. Jerry Joof: Exactly, and when you’ve got invasive insects mauling your snapping hand, you’re gonna want to call a timeout. Mitch Paulson: You can see the ants climbing his forearm here on the replay, and I pretended like I was going to do dry January but with my life being what it is, I don’t think anyone will begrudge me for pounding this bottle of Fireball. 4th and Goal, and the field goal unit comes out… =======
Mitch Paulson: 15 to 9 here, in the waning seconds of regulation, in what will surely be the end of my life if it – Jerry Joof: All field goals today, but the Roadrunners, the visitors, are sniffing at the coochie of the Visitors’ defense. Mitch Paulson: A touchdown and an extra point would end this, and hopefully, sever my mortal coil to this world. The Roadrunners are showing pistol formation. Jerry Joof: Watch out for the play-action here, Dong-Bik Koon is an underrated tight end, and he’s on the outside- Mitch Paulson: Ball is snapped, all day to throw, he’s looking, rolling right, and then he, um… Jerry Joof: What just happened there? Mitch Paulson: Well we’re gonna see it on the replay. Unorthodox, for sure. Jerry Joof: Okay, so he’s running back to his right. Quarterbacks love to roll right because most of them are right-handed, right? So he moves over there and then just- Mitch Paulson: He crammed the ball up his ass. Jerry Joof: He did! He did a pump fake, watch this pump fake, boom! Made the middle linebacker jump and then just stuffed the ball into his pants, up his own ass, and walked rigidly into the endzone. Talk about a disappearing act! That might be the greatest play I have ever seen in my life. He’s Houdini out there! Mitch Paulson: They’re reviewing it now, but his arm pumps out to fake a throw, and then. Wow, he subtly crams that football up his own asshole and then just walks into the endzone. Unreal! Jerry Joof: You wanna talk about unorthodox ways to win a championship!? Is there anybody who would want it more than that? Mitch Paulson: No. Amazing. Jerry Joof: Well there you have it. Tim Tebow just won the championship with the Tucson Roadrunners. Mitch Paulson: I am going to get so drunk tonight. Jerry Joof: Same, bro. Same. Mitch Paulson: I love you. Jerry Joof: …okay.
