The Great Algonquin Skunk Moose

The Monsters of February

This noble and bloodthirsty creature is the Great Algonquin Skunk-Moose of Northern Two-consin.

Although it has the appearance of a three-legged spider with a fist on its butt, grasping at a cheap gold chain it hangs from the Bruffulum trees, it is actually part of the Skunk-Moose family.

There have been several attempts to rename the Great Algonquin Skunk Moose to things such as the Thrider or The Old Birthday's Revenge, but these attempts have failed to catch on because the Skunk-Moose has a surprisingly large advertising budget.

Naturally, the Great Algonquin Skunk-Moose feasts on children and baby lambs, but you should really withhold judgement before learning all of the facts.

The Great Algonquin Skunk-Moose has a supernatural mastery of the elements. The specific sphere of power the Skunk-Moose inhabits is that when you're in a social situation, the GASM will sneak into the room and suddenly make it okay for everyone to talk about their poops. It can lift that inhibition with its presence but after a while, it will wait for the one person who hasn't contributed to the discussion, who looks like they're finally going to have the chance to say something really cathartic. And just when that person is about to speak the GASM flees the room, stifling its tiny laughter with a tiny leg, and immediately makes it not okay to talk about that anymore. Just as the person finishes their exclamation and rises to their feet,

"--LIKE FIVES TIMES YESTERDAY! AM I GONNA DIE OR SOMETHING?"

The Great Algonquin Skunk-Moose wins again. And if you really embarrass yourself, it will rip off your foot in the middle of the night and fill it with candied yams.

Well, that's enough of whatever that was for today. Be wary of people suddenly being cool with talking about their BM's.

and Sharm!

Napkin Rapkin Tapkin Flapkin
----------------------------------

A Brief Myth of Creation-

In the beginning there was only slime. There was only a great green ooze that spread across the void, consuming the nothing with effortless expansion and flow. And from this massive boiling rolling wave of ever-changing steaming stew, seething with energy, came a procession of strange beasts. Weird creatures were enveloped in a cloud of acrid mist and marching forth from the viscous muck to lay claim to the land of the sun. These shifted shapes and slopping structures may take hold with roots springing from their loopy limbs, they may grow towards the light. Or they may shrivel and sizzle, lost and unequipped for this world in this time.

But one thing is for certain, the crashing tide will never be without the monsters wrought from the perilous deeps of the sea of slime.

IT'S!!

You should desire only to be free.

Last Monday I did some deep-breathing exercises and it got me really energized so I was standing around in my empty apartment, gyratin' and shimmying and doing all kinds of wacka-doo.

Then I went for a run and yelled, "I'm in a manic state and need to burn off my energy with cardio-vascular exercise!" But my chest started hurting real bad so I yelled, "Excellence begets excellence! I'm gonna have a heart attack." But I think what had really happened was that I had pulled a shimmying muscle.

Then later in the week I got a whole bunch of dry-erase markers and drew unicorns on a giant whiteboard in the middle of the Student Center.

Then at my job I followed a kid around at the before-school program I work at and sang in a deep voice, "It's the story of Kilbor"

Then on Friday, in thirty-degree weather I stripped down to my shorts and a t-shirt, yelled, "You are all witness!" and ran a really hard mile and hurt my lungs from the cold.

Today I ran for 2 hours, fell in some mud, yelled at cars that didn't sufficiently pull over, and thought about how life doesn't feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff anymore.

I feel like a snowflake, caught in the sudden drafts of a storm cloud, flying to and fro at incredible speeds. And from a distance, I'm an invisible speck in a blanket of calm grey.

You're only chance at happiness is to be like the ping-pong ball. Complete, sturdy, and able to reflect and fly with the energies of the universe.

...came up with that while sitting on the toilet.

Two Arts for the Post of One!

Titi Goes to the Moon

Baked and a Tofu Flake

I didn't make the top one.

---------------------------------------------------------------

We are exploring the well-trodden path. We put our faces to the packed dirt to study the flowers blooming in the cracks of the particles floating in the fluid of the eyeball.

Satterwhite

Greetings, ladies and mans. I'm taking a class this semester where we have to read things out loud! So, to help me visualize and make the text more interesting, I've created a character I call

Satterwhite.

And so, now instead of the way Andy reads things in his normal Andy voice, I'll read it like a green man with a square head wearing a t-shirt that says HALF AND HOUR.

we'll see if that makes a difference.

also there is this video...

Feet are Weird

It just looks really weird...

At around 10 seconds you can't really keep track of them and they look like they're flopping around like blap blop bleep bleep bleep blap.

And the person in the blue spikes at around 25 seconds looks like their ankles are drunk.

-------------------------------------------------------
Also, burlesque doesn't sound like what it is.

Burlesque sounds like a gathering of rough, hairy mountain men standing on cedar barrels and stumps.

And they're crushing soup cans with their bare hands and bathing the dancing woodland creatures in the cold broth.

There's also chicken bones scattered everywhere.

That's what burlesque sounds like.

New Guy

Hey, so guess what?! Huh? What? Guess what?

Turns out it's kind of important to be able to introduce yourself to people. Particularly when those people are the group of kids at your job that you've been working at for about a week.

You have to introduce yourself to them. And be like, "Hey there! I like...plants!" Otherwise, you just become that long-haired guy who stands and sits around and doesn't say anything in the morning. Who wants to be that guy? No one. No one wants to be that guy.

You especially don't want to be that guy when...

you see a kid about to cry while he's sitting on his little scooter thing that he and the other kids scoot around the gym with, and so you go over to him and say his name and ask him what's wrong, but he doesn't know that you know his name so he slowly scoots his way over to the staff across the gym who he does know.

You don't want to have a crying child scoot away from you while you're asking "what's wrong". Not that I think I could have helped him but...it was really the scooting that got me. It wasn't even the fast way to scoot.  He was facing forward and slowly digging his heels into the gym floor with his arms limply wiggling from side-to-side and inching away from me at knee level on a lemon-yellow scooter.

I wouldn't describe a lot of things as insurmountable or staggering in my life, but at that moment I was thinking, "There is nothing I can do right now to get this child to acknowledge me. This is a task far beyond my abilities and I might as well not be here at all."

Like, imagine that, and then imagine that child, that sniffling scooting child thinking, this guy? What does he want? What? What is he doing? I'm embarrassed for him. He thinks he's some kind of a professional. I'm going to slowly move my plastic square on wheels over to someone who really knows what he's doing.

Or imagine like, a man dragging his way through the sands of a hot desert. His legs have given out and he's about to die of dehydration so he's clawing his way across the dunes because about 100 feet away he thinks he sees a canteen that might have life-giving water. Now, imagine me as a misguided and self-conscious ketchup salesman who happens to spy this man and thinks it would be a great time to practice his sales pitch.

"Sir, would you like to try our new ketchup? It's made from 7 different kinds of vine ripened toma--"

That man's not gonna eat my ketchup! No! He's got tunnel vision but he's still gonna wave me away. This isn't the time for ketchup, son! I should have asked him for ketchup when he was on the plane flying over Arizona two days ago before a flock of geese clogged up the engines.

But I'm not mad. Why would I be mad? I failed at something. Sweet Failure! A truly wonderful thing. Nothing teaches you more than failure. Failure is what learning feels like when it's being hardwired directly into your brain after tearing out all those faulty connections you made while you were sleeping. You were half-awake, half-asleep thinking "I can do anything! I can talk to kids! I can wrestle a grizzly bear on a hot-air balloon! I'm never gonna get a weird painful red splotch on the side of my mouth"

But Failure comes along and is like BLAH-DOW! You just got your self some adjustment and some humble-pie on the side! Be a better person!