Tokens & Trinity

All of that work, and the puck just sat there, taunting me. Half in and half out. An important play, I slid my piece across the air table and it knocked the green disc in. Score.

“ILLEGAL SHOT!” Nick yelled, holding both pieces until he’d sent a point into my dark goalpost, canceling out the desperate effort.

“We’ll take 30 bouncy balls,” he informed at the rewards desk.

I saw the movie Hero today – one of few movies I’ve wanted to catch in the theatre. From out of town, Nick and I arrived early enough to attack their game room’s Simpsons Pinball. Unlike the same game at our local pizza parlor, this one’s upper-level flippers were functioning and I was able to acquire plenty of multi-balls and replays with my single credit. It was a good game, and a spectacular film. When we got back, Nick’s twin brother agreed to come with us to an arcade.

“Come on, shoot-em-up girl, I know you like these,” Adam directed, seizing my arm and turning our single plays into team effort. We took full advantage and beat X-Men from start to finish, on 75 cents. Assigned 2 stepping buttons each, we power owned a spider stomping game and left it no choice but to dish out the tickets. A few hours later, the workers killed the power and we set out into the night with ugly stuffed toys.

The chicken I had for lunch was the best I’ve ever had. My new Kerouac CD rocks. The sky is lit with lightning. The traffic flowed, all day. Having felt stressed and cross-wired, I wasn’t surprised to find my eyes leaking in reaction to Nick’s jokes about the world. At one point in the afternoon I looked over at him as we were insulting some old movie posters… He was wiping water from his cheeks.

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Heaven Help Them

Dan looked like he wanted to say something at the cash register, but it came out, “Nevermind. Nevermind.”

“What!”

“Nothing,” he insisted, and pulled out a twenty to pay for our salad bar. Then he said, “Sit down and don’t look over.”

This means danger, so I balanced our tray to a back booth and braced myself for the worst. Sure enough, over came a pair of high school peers who’d married each other.

“Oh, Shhhhit,” I said, in unabashed earshot of the boy. He grinned a homely grin and outstretched his hand for shaking. Instead, I snatched the newspaper from his other hand. Houses in black and white were circled in ink.

The girl ran up and opened her mouth. She had to mention a cruise ship from her honeymoon and whatever else sounded flashy. Continued to hint at a job – she just got a job – considering her job, this or that – because the area she’s working in, something is ideal – blah blah blah until I surrendered, “What is it you’re doing, Tamara.”

“Ah?” she presented, her eyebrows raised (pretending she hadn’t been begging to brag), a hand up to her chest now, “I’m in the ICU unit. I was shocked when I got it, because you have to be really smart to get there…” I started to think about how much weight she’d gained – she was nearing the double chin. Was that was why her shirt was so tight, or had she bought it that way to accent her breasts? Always in long skirts, religiously, having converted that poor boy into going to church everyday. All day long.

“We looked at a house out by yours! Right beside the tracks, though. And so swampy. It’s floodline, you know.” Then they took turns doing impressions of having to grab and steady everything. I grinned without teeth, rattling my coke glass via Jurassic Park, giving Dan an eye. All three laughed merrily. How nice it is, on some nights, to hear that train rumbling from my home.

“They wanted 80”, Pete innocently explained. Tamara gave a disregarding glance, still talking about hospital things. I stood without a bra, in a baggy tee that read “The Mighty Hooters”. Perhaps we were equally as indecent to each other.

“The woman at Marshall’s thought I was talking about the other nursing, and asked me if I had any more kids! Apparently you don’t need a brain to sell clothing!” she heckled, and I weighed her story against my perch above it. A few months ago, I saw her on my way out of Wal-Mart, buried in the clearance clothing racks. Good old Petey had been standing by like an emotionless totem pole, announcing the annoyance on my map.

“What do you think?” I flat-out asked Brain Peterson, handing back the filthy papers. He knew right away I wasn’t referring to the woman at Marshall’s.

He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Honey, the girl wants to eat! Let’s go place that offer,” she finished, as though Petey had done all the talking.

*Religious Standpoints behind the cut.
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Flora, Fauna, Firewall.

The Mayor’s Mother asked for some computer assistance, and I finally got over there. Low security, viruses with old definitions, spyware, nuisances like weather bugs, and a few actual system errors. Her computer is on a fast connection, but that doesn’t mean anything when it behaves heavy on Win ME. So I spent hours cleaning up those kinds of things before running into a problem with her Outlook Express program.

Although the account settings looked ok, it continued to reject the correct password. Keep in mind that this woman lost her daughter to cancer a few years ago, and has always treasured the few messages they exchanged. Over time she has acquired a massive amount of e-mail from friends and family, which is sacred to her – the reason for her computer activity, really. It only took a second to accidentally delete the identity holding years of records on her local account. Bloop!

Panic set in with a numb disbelief – reaction was the lack of reaction. The only clue, my eyes having doubled in size. Considering what could possibly be done, I remembered her Dell’s startup display briefly flashing, “Go Back”. Words cannot express the drama of weighing Flora Peal’s despair against my own shame, imagining her breaking the news to family members… over and over.

All I have to say, is that Go Back is a saint. The program booted like a cloudy portal, presenting me with several offers. I selected “go back to 5 days ago” and watched it reconstruct the drive in blue progress bars. To my amazement, it worked. I was even able to prevent several problems I’d tried tackling earlier. Her e-mail was still there! A few more hours catching up with repeated tasks, and her computer was fine again.

I scurried down her front porch stairs, thankful to get out of there with my life. She’d placed a crisp 5 dollar bill in my hand, unaware she’d paid me on the second chance. Holy shit. I came **that** close to the worst fuckup ever.

GetLine() Approach vs The Old Way

My dad has always had a million spare parts of equipment lying around. Yesterday I wanted to copy from CD to cassette and discovered that, despite the many tools and machines, anything that could do that for me was shot. It’s frustrating when the dual cassette is missing its chord, a disc player too dusty to read, the buttons on a player being stuck, a karaoke machine’s speed dial broken, to name a few reigning annoyances. Rather than bother with the junk pile, I didn’t hesitate to run into town for a new toy.

Retrieval Electric
Dstructure[Autumn_May];
char Name[great_dame];

-_- ;

Recap$Confess$555-5156$rock_101_@hotmail.com$Michigan$USA$
Neural_Parchment$Soul_Domain$Belief$Thought_Log$SurfaceLVL,Space$

#include
#include

struct secretz{
Dreams[chron];
Letters[ran];
Passages[reg];
};

present main()
{

stream(“/circulatory/heart/autumns_brain.chem”);
char filters[0];
contact secret;

while(!underly.psychosis())
{
iAM.get_thought(myPersonality, ‘<3’);
cout << myPersonality << endl;
}

iAM.close0;

}

Mornings ache, but I struggled to arrive in the waiting room in time for a 20-minute session with some toddler’s germy blocks clanking together. Their primary colors gave me a headache. My father’s insurance plan is one of the few things desperately trying to keep me connected to society, and I mused at how human it felt to sit with these other appointments. There we were, about our teeth.

The Flint practice has had the same scraping ladies for as long as I can remember, and I always get stuck with the ruthless brute. Big, fat woman with snotty voice and sharp instruments, decorated her little station with motivational penguin posters. Every fucking round, she’s just as moody. It’s clear that someone has finally warned her about poor behavior, because she kept insisting, “And I’m not yelling at you. Some people think I yell!”

Waiting for my dentist to check on me gives ample time to eye the trailer outside their windows. A woman in a super market vest washes dishes. In an effort to block out the horrible easy listening station, I try to find the doctor with my ears.

“Am I wasting all of my money if this isn’t working?”
“It takes a while to catch up with cavities, Carolyn. But if you don’t want the procedure, I can pull the tooth. Whatever you want to do. You don’t have a whole lot of teeth left over there.”

I didn’t cause as much frustration. He says I got my first cavity, though, and “if I had teeth like yours, I’d pay to get the white filling.” Stupid clothes, frames, eye wrinkles, and my brain took a photo. Then he said my teeth were beautiful, on top of it. Appreciation must be sexy, because he started to look attractive when he smiled.

–>Insert racy sex scene here, if you so wish to improve the truth.<– Ooh, or, change my dentist to a female and write some SLASH

The man ahead of me was scheduling for next time with his hands on this big kit of special brushes and super rinse. I felt proud of my smile, never having required a hundred dollar vibrator with bristles.

Summer Nights

To celebrate a belated Friday the 13th, the arch of the clock was properly taken advantage of as this 14th and 15th found me slinking in its shadows. Dan had stopped by to flash a tiger’s eye arrowhead he’d gotten at a five-finger discount, and joined me. It is a wonder we ever made it to the woods, because the entire area is patrolled and doused in curfew. Very quiet feet inched around the trunks while eyes waited for head and taillights to pass.
We ended up wandering off a bicycle path and scaled massive deposits of concrete slabs that had been overtaken by vines and brush.

After successfully scaring ourselves in the wilderness, we got fries and honey mustard. Dining on the amphitheatre, it was a public performance of my lifestyle, but no one showed up to watch our legs dangling off the stage. In fact, we were so alone that it felt like playing on a movie set. All of these town lamps shining down, all of these sidewalks and signs and blinking arrows, and no one outside. Our traffic lights turn for no one except the occasional vehicle I eye suspiciously for indications that it is indeed, a model on route.

We crouched along high towers and tunnels, spying on anyone who came into the park. The sound of Dan’s lighter broke my playground trance.

“I bet many a war was lost that way,” I sharply whispered at Dan.
“How, by lighting a cigarette?” His hands toyed with his lighter.
“Yes. The light of a single cigarette and pointless flashing of light!
“Oh well. Hey – they moved. I don’t see them.”
”You aren’t standing your post!” I crawled over to his view.
“Over there.” We heard a key chain clanking.

The couple walked under the glow of a pavilion and kissed amidst picnic tables. Stripes of moonlight came through the tall playscape’s wooden boards and streaked across our faces as we silently maneuvered through the device for the closest spy. They looked kind of dumpy. The man slapped the woman on her ass and it startled the three of us.

Monkey bars and chains glistened, without the slightest movement. This public structure was waiting to function again under the sun, to pass crowds of children across the bridges and balance beams.

“There’s something iffy about people needing to come here this late at night,” Dan observed, considering their age and nature.

I spun around to look down on our wooden maze and zoned back out, wondering just what, exactly, that said about me.

Lacy did some exploring, as well. My dad took her to the fair this morning, and she was very popular with the crowd. Such a smash hit, in fact, that a woman attached a blue ribbon to her collar. They stopped at a sweet corn stand on the drive home, and Dad stuck a few dollars in the unattended jar for 12 ears. He’s probably husking them right now, in the trailer.

I’ve been spending my summer, tickled. Yesterday’s spontaneous garage sale stop got me a very cool necklace for 50 cents. It’s a beautifully gaudy, steel heart. Nick found a panda figurine – bringing the total cost of goods to a dollar, which he presented, turning my bargain find into a sweet treasure.

In case you are now wondering, the similarities between Autumn May and a panda are as follows:

1.) metaphorically black and white – extremes of generalized “Gemini” makeup
2.) requires a sign that says “do not feed me”, as I have addictive behavior and struggle to decline many offerings
3.) undiscovered trick to get me breeding with others
4.) same height as average adult panda
5.) walks plantigrade style over slippery surfaces
6.) low-wired until irritated

etc, etc, etc. Yes, I have thought too much about this.

Noisy and Silent.

“Pens. They’ve got pens!” Nick yelled from his side of the commercial barn, as I darted over to the Planned Parenthood booth. We were staying enthusiastic about the simple joys at Shiawassee’s County fair.

“Is this one broken?” he asked the lady working.
“Push the clip in to retract it,” she suggested.
“You apparently should have been aborted,” I mused. Nick ignored me, focused on the unguarded bowl of Tootsie Rolls at a Democrat’s table.

That reminds me. symphy ‘s mother regularly contributes to her son’s website at http://ludicrosity.com/ She recently learned that Symphy is an atheist & wrote a “Who raised you”isque response. They have a good project going, there.

My day was eventful, having scratched behind the ears of several cows, pigs, sheep, and goats. Surrey routes, 4-H food, some guy carving sculptures with his chain saw, and even – yes – a little bingo in the VFW tent. I didn’t get to the midway or grand stand this time, but I’m sure I’ll wander over there again soon. If not, I can always hear the demolition derbies and country music concerts from my backyard.

constructive, eh?

The concession aisle has a dairy barn. I kind of sort of grabbed a wooden spoon and ate an entire pint of premium chocolate ice cream. Soon ill, this girl collapsed in the vacant, grassy bowl at the center. Everything moved at some slow, sunny pace that I could hear all around me.

The windows are open and I just felt wind-blown water on my shoulder. I feel strange. Like a good word could lean me one way, and a bad one, mow me down. Hard to explain the night.

I wonder if this’ll work. It might not pick up.

Storm

That’s here. Noisy and Silent.

You don’t have to worship me, but it’d be nice if you did.

Sorry for the broken links – I have moved the photos and fixed that problem.

To celebrate the 200th mutual LJ pal, I’ve decided to appropriately mock my sold-out status with wallpapers. Now you, the reader, may plaster me over the entire desktop and help keep me in your every thought.

World domination is just around the corner.

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GunColor
Gun1024BW
Gun1024Color
Gun800BW
Gun800Color
GunGrayscale

Happy 200th To Me!

Bubble1

Gum1024B&W
Gum1024Color
Gum800BW
Gum800Color

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They’re available for 800x and 1024x resolution. This heinous post was created 90% in hopes of getting choice company to shake their head, but smile. For those taking me 100% seriously, hope you like em – I was playing Duck Hunt that day.

Jsin00 is the boy who cropped my digital camera images. Check out his journal for a really funny, true story that happened the other night. It made me cackle and snicker at 3 A.M, when I am usually starting to stare and lean sideways.