fictional states of an actual mind, part one

here is a state i invented and drew up all by my lonesome.



i call it "textatonia" (in case you can't read my awful handwriting). textatonia features mt. blap, sippy cup hills, all the rest, klak lake, and clusterfuck town. it is the only state in my union that uses the word "shiv" more than "shit"

possibly the biggest party pooper ever (maybe)

So I wrote Sirhan Sirhan (the guy who assassinated (maybe) Robert F. Kennedy) about an anecdote one of my professor's told my class. His response is hopefully on its way (maybe).



Dear Sirhan Sirhan,

You don't know me and there's no reason why you would. My name is Talmage and I live in Portland, OR where I attend school for unknown reasons.

I recently came upon an audio file of your new lawyer presenting the case for clearing your name. His argument was strong and his spirits high. If nothing else, his legal ramblings should grant you a re-trial of sorts. Good luck to you.

I believe there are thousands of people locked up in the American justice system unjustly. In my humble opinion, you are one of these people. I do hope some rotten conspiring government journeymen get their comeuppance and spend time in the very cells they condemn the innocent.

I was wondering what prison is like for an innocent man? What are your days like? Read any good books lately or is that not allowed? There's a lot I don't know about prisons.

I just recently learned cakes with files baked within are rare, if not impossible.

The reason for this letter has to do with my screenwriting professor. He claimed he tutored you in the Russian language. During one of these sessions someone gave him the news of John F. Kennedy's death.

This is quite a coincidence. That is, to be in the presence of the guy (you) who reportedly shot RFK while finding out about the assassination of JFK? That would be an American's definition of irony, sir…Han.

My professor's name is Charles Deemer. He is portly and maintains a rather loud voice even throughout private conversation. His teeth are bad. I would really appreciate it if you could verify, or decertify this, because Professor Deemer is, to say the least, a blowhard, and I would love nothing more to sully his reputation in front of a large group of people.

Sincerely,

Talmage Larry

scientific beard

I have been thinking about my lack of beard lately.

For 4 years I always thought people treated me differently because of its presence. Since I shaved it off two weeks ago, I no longer think it a factor on how people act toward me. Sure, I am ID'd more often. And when I tell people my name they no longer assume I am jewish, amish, or occasionally, and baffling, buddhist (true story).

But really, in a city where you can't swing an unnecessary scarf without hitting another unnecessary scarf and a beard, there is no tangible difference in how people perceive your lack of facial hair against a clean, shaven face.

Without a beard I now feel liberated like the probable-guy in ZZ-Top that probably thought the hirsute shtick was bullshit.

The picture above was drawn by my friend Bridget, who is admirable enough not to have a myspace page. And after an eight-year friendship I have no idea how to spell her first or last name correctly. She is an honest-to-god scientist. That is the type of profession I need to add to my "Who'd I like to Meet" on myspace section.

UPDATE: "Who'd I like to meet" updated.

a partial guide to a now-absent beard

horse hair and dog food

Construction of The Pentagon began during the same year the U.S. stopped sleepin' on like the biggest event of the decade, World War II. Shit was mad crazy during those times. The military needed all sorts of otherwise useless garbage to throw at the Axis (Japan, Germany, the Mario Bros.). Since the baby boom hadn't happened, and Carl Finacken's patented baby-pult was frowned upon by pro-lifers everywhere, the army had to settle on bullets, sabers, and atomic bombs.

And the construction of such materials, unlike babies (semen + drunken flewsy = baby), took a lot of ...well materials. With China solely in the firework game, we had no one to supply the means for massive debt. The American people's only recourse? Sacrifice.

And sacrifice they did. The excess Bath and Body Works lotion Molly would lather up with every morning had to be culled by Jimmy, her pervert little brother, from her back and used to jack his dicky-dack-dack while the sink ran on low to drown out his self-gratification grunts. Yes, times were hard.

Back to the Pentagon. Because of the shortage of materials the soon-to-be Department of Defense Headquarters was insulated with horsehair.

So when the plane hit the Pentagon, witnesses say the whole area reeked of old, burning hair.

They also add that all the candy machines in the area of the impact burst, shooting mentos, good n' plenties all over the damned place.

When I think of the stench of burning hair and brightly colored treats everywhere I am reminded of the place of my birth, Ogden, Utah.

Ogden has a dog food factory near downtown. Inside, blood and bones are burnt, spreading a wretched stench all over the city. When you factor in the grotesque smell brought by Westerly winds from the mostly putrid Great Salt Lake you start to get my drift.

I fucking loved that city.
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