The Ringing of the Bells
I sit here listening to the ringing
of the bells of the bells
I sit here looking for the place to see
the bells all the bells
In my head I hear the ringing
of the bells of the bells
I ask the person next to me
What?
Only hear of the bells of the bells
What is it that brought this about
the bells all the bells
Permanent noise-induced hearing loss
the bells the stupid bells
I dont think they are hear
And I cant either.
O.K. I'm cheating today! I didn't write this, but I had to share it with you. I prit near fell on the floor laughing so hard, when I read this. You sisters will appreciate this more!
The Real Restroom Story
Only a woman will TRULY relate to this (and guys will better understand…)!
My mother was a fanatic about public bathrooms.
When I was a little girl, she’d take me into the stall, teach me to wad up toilet paper wipe the seat. Then, she’d carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat. Finally, she’d instruct, “ Never, NEVER sit on a public toilet seat.
Then she’d demonstrate “The Stance”, which consisted of balancing over the toilet in a sitting position without actually letting any of your flesh make contact with the toilet seat.
By this time, I’d have wet down my leg and we’d have to go home to change my clothes. That was a long time ago.
Even now, in my more {mature years, “The Stance”} is excruciatingly difficult to maintain, especially when one’s bladder is full.
When you have to “go” in a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women that makes you think there’s a half-price sale on Nelly’s underwear in there. So, you wait and smile politely at all the other ladies, who are also crossing their legs and smiling politely. You get closer and check for feet under the stall doors. Every one is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won’t latch. It doesn’t matter. The dispenser for the new fangled “seat covers” (invented by someone’s Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook if there was one but there isn’t- so you carefully but quickly hang it around your neck (mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume “The Stance.”
Ahhhh, RELIEF. MORE RELIEF.
But then your thighs begin to shake. You’d love to sit down but you certainly hadn’t taken time to wipe the seat or put toilet paper on it, so you hold “The Stance” as your thighs experience a quake that would register an eight on the Richter scale.
To take your mind off of your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother’s voice saying “Honey, if you would have tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!” Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that’s still in your purse. That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller then your thumbnail. Someone pushes open your stall because the latch doesn’t work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet.
“Occupied!” you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle, and sliding down, directly onto the insidious toilet seat. You bolt up quickly, knowing all too well that it’s too late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper- not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly ashamed of you if she knew, because you’re certain that her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear “You just don’t KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.”
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, sending up a stream of water akin to a fountain that suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged off to China.
At that point, you give up. You’re soaked by the splashing water. You’re exhausted. You try to wipe with gum wrapper you found in your pocket, then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can’t figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with a dry paper towel and walk past a line of women, still waiting,
cross-legged and, at this point, no longer able to smile politely.
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has since entered, used, and exited the men’s restroom and read a copy of War and Peace while waiting for you. Annoyed, he asks, “What took so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?”
This is dedicated to women everywhere who have ever had to deal with a public restroom (rest ??? you’ve got to be kidding!!). It finally explains to men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked question about why women go to the restroom in pairs.
It’s so the other women can hold the door and hand you Kleenex under the door.
um. . .okay. . .my creative writing isn't that, uh intriguing. . . but just for a disclaimer, this isn't an ode to myself. Read beyond the words.
I'm so self-important,
its like I was imported,
into this world just to be,
the person I am, you know me,
here to tell everyone they're wrong,
are you conceited? Well not for long.
I'm not going to let you ruin my reputation,
because being seen with you
isn't what most call cool,
does that equate your computation?
Not to talk to down,
but understand me, this isn't your town.
You're visiting, go ahead look around,
everyone comes here to see me,
what did you think they came to see?
I'm the greatest there ever was,
don't believe? He does,
and he's the one who counts.
Just like a gazelle after the lion pounce,
I'm the only reason for going out.
Being this awesome is kinda hard,
because I constantly have to stay on guard,
to make sure people like you don't bring me down.
I'm so me its hard to not to frown,
at all the rest because they're not.
Not me, just wishing to be,
If I ever died, I bet they'd try to rot.
If I fell, they'd be the first to climb a tree,
just so they could experience gravity.
The world loves me,
there's nothing above me,
If there's a genius I'm smarter,
and if you're a diamond, I'm harder.
If you're an ice cube, then I'm summer,
and if you're a fool, then I'm dumber.
Tragedy of the Lepidoptera
By Jon Houser
Hey…Hey…Hey Stevie. Wake up Stevie, you loser. Come on, get up. Yeah, yeah, yeah, light hangovers, ommatidium burned out, blah blah blah. Like I didn’t go through the same thing this morning. You’ve got ocelli, use ‘em. Get up. Seriously dude, there’s a party tonight and I’m not letting you miss it. Yes, I know that, You don’t have to tell me, I was there. But just because last night’s party was awesome doesn’t mean you get to skip out on this one. Seriously, dude, you’ll regret it. Now seriously dude, rub some dust on those scales, and let’s fly. The night is ever young. Dude…dude…shut up for a second, dude, listen, this isn’t like any party you’ve been to. Screw the tall white lights in the sky, where the beetles be bumpin and the lay-days be fine, don’t be even thinkin of those crappy yellow lights like last week with those sickly worm guys hangin out offering ‘dirt,’ what kind of freakin snack does that make anyway ‘dirt?’ Yeah, I know, that party was a bust, but this, my friend, is no bust. This is where it be at. Look, it’s a blue light party, do you understand that? Blue light, BLUE LIGHT, B-L-U-E SPACE L-I…umm… oh yeah-G-H-T, blue light, stevie, blue freakin light. Oh of course she said not to, but who cares what my mom says? She’s been a real drag every since my ‘Dad’ died. Stevie, no, Stevie, don’t get back in bed you little punk, we’re going out. Dude, who cares what she said? My mom said the same thing ‘eeew ooooh, never go to a blue light. They’re daaaaangerous, boo hoo hoo. Only go to white lights, or why don’t you go to a nice iiiiinnocent yellow light? I’m stupid and miserable, I think I’ll cry for an hour or two.’ Screws to that, yellow lights exhale tremendously. I mean they ‘blow hard’ you idiot, jeese pick up a frickin thesaurus sometime man. Look, yeah, I know ‘tremendously’ is not a synonym for ‘hard.’ You’re really missing the point, Stevie.
Alright, man, up you go, there you are. Ok, get some dust, here, there alright man, cool, now we’re good to go. The blue light…no Stevie I don’t, in fact I think this is a fantastic idea, ok? Now the blue light is just around the big wooden pole, over the bush, and then it’s hanging on the side of that big cave the metal thing with wheels is in. Ok, lets go, here we go, can you fly Stevie, can you fly? Alright, there you go man, alright, lets go. Hey man, remember that time we were at the light at the top of the wooden pole and you were like so buzzed man, you were like all into that pole just rammin into it, then you would like turn around and just go in a circle and then SMACK right back into it, I swear man you did that till you passed out, it was frikkin hilarious, all the lay-days were laughing, and so was I, and then you just passed right out, right man, and then you fell like forever, I was almost freaked out, like after the party was over I went and I was all like in the grass tryin to find you for like ten minutes or somethin, well no, I mean I didn’t say I found you, oh quit whining you were fine. Yeah, what about me?...Oh whatever, dude, the lay-days were all up ons, I was like covered in pheremones by the night’s end dude, I could barely fly because my wings were soaked in pheremones, I’m not kidding man, gods honest truth, I mean like they were ‘Completely above and supported by’. Dude, again, thesaurus, I’m tellin you. I SAID they were ALL UP ONS, yeeaah!
Whoa, whoa, frikkin, whoa dude, that’s it right there, there it is, frikkin blue light dude, that is more than a blue frikkin light, that is blue frikkin tower of light surrounded by a totally rock-out-avant-garde-totally-hard big black cage! CHECK THAT OUT, WHOA, did you hear me man, I said whoa. No, I don’t know a synonym for ‘whoa’, wait I’ve got one how about ‘shut up stevie, you’re a shmuktard!’ How’s that for a synonym? WHOA! Did you see that, I swear I just saw something burst into flames stevie. This party has got the flames to get the dames! OH YEAH! Man, let’s go, rizzock the hizzouse Stevie. What? Oh get over it wuss. Look, if you’re not solid enough to handle this party, then I am leaving you here, furthermore…HOLY CRAP, that was another frikkin fire, I don’t know who brought the fire, but they are not my new best friend! Screw you Stevie, I’m going to go get some lizzay-dizzays! Oh yeah, this party is on, it’s on, holy crap that light is bright, it’s buzzin, it’s buzzin, oh it’s buzzin hizzard! Stevie doesn’t know what he’s missin! Oh, yeah! it’s so…so…beautiful (touch it), the light, I’ve gotta (touch it) get closer, closer to this blue (touch it) angelic..light…I’ve...I’ve never (touch it) seen something quite so..so…(touch it)…OH GOD,I’M ON FIRE, OH GOD NO, NO,NO, NO, MY WING, IT’S BURNING, OH IT HURTS, WHY, WHY, STEVIE, STEVIE, HELP ME, I’M BURNING, OH GOD IT BURNS, MY WING MY WING IS GONE, OH GOD IT…HURTS, STEVIE….STEVIE, WHERE ARE YOU?!?!!?
STEVIE?!?
…..
STEVIE!?
…..
MOM?
………………………………….
Oh yeah, also it is to my concern that you parenthitically "(maybe one of the last ones)" to the end of your statement. What is the meaning of this?
Posted by: Jon Houser at July 29, 2004 04:09 PMTo the Browneyedgirl, that's now probably occupying the number one spot on the "why I'm glad I'm a guy" list.
Javann, You should write poems about me more often, you fool! (really like the last four lines)
Posted by: Jon Houser at July 29, 2004 04:30 PMJon, my man, that is total brilliance man. Its almost like you're calling frat boys stupid, and insignificant as flies. Or maybe not. Either way, that's the best short story, makes you wonder what K-Mart's getting at with that blue light special.
Posted by: Don't Sleep, Just Drink Coffee at July 29, 2004 04:49 PMI figured if anyone would appreciate it, it would be you.
Good observation on the blue light special.
Posted by: Jon Houser at July 29, 2004 05:05 PMPretend to don sincerity
Feign a smile
"I'm SO happy to see you!
It's been awhile!"
Bland conversation
Boredom writes itself across your face
I'm pretty sure your mind has drifted
to some far away place
Your roaming eyes keep drifting to the clock
By now you've tuned me out completely
"Do you mind if I go now?"
You're plotting how to rid yourself of me
"Are you ok?" I ask
"Just tired," is your dishonest reply
"I won't keep you any longer then," I say,
trying not to cry
You've become a different person
Now you think you're too good for me
We're traveling in opposite directions
I guess we're not the friends we used to be
Nice one Jon. Glad I got to see it in its unedited form. Sounds like some IJish character narrative.
Javann, sweet. Jon is pretty full of himself, fo rizzle.
Browneyedgirl, coly crap.
Posted by: Captian Jonathan!!! at July 30, 2004 03:39 PMIt is indeed somewhat IJish, however I feel that having been exposed to DFW, alot of my writing with inherit some of his flavor. I'm surprised how much my style of twisted humor, and intellect already resembled his before I read any of his work. But now that I have seen what he is, I know what I can do. It's opened doors. All the time I've spent studying literary work, their rules, their constructs, rules of syntax, grammar, diction, stylistic faux paus, learning the intricacies of writing have been altered by his work, and interviews. DFW has been acting a sort of "Morpheus" (to use a pop culture metaphor) showing that some rules can be bent, and others broken. He violates in his writing almost everything I've learned about writing, but he does it so good.
That's not to say that I'm going to be directly mimicking the man, or attempting to. However given this new world of possibility I will inevitably inherit some of his moves.
As for "Tragedy Of The Lepidoptera", it wasn't a directly inspired peice from IJ, but you're right it does bare semblance to something that would be in it (see above). My goal with TOTL was to create a forward moving short story with occuring events using nothing but the conversational narrative of a single character. It turned out well, so it's this weeks Creative Writing peice, just nudging out a vignette entitled "Altruist Alone". I think I'm going to send TOTL and AA and maybe some other short peice out to my "fans" (see:The eight or nine people I normally E-mail my stories to because they haven't told me to stop yet) to prove that I'm still alive and writing. I haven't done that in months, since "Accept Rejection and Reject Acceptance" anyway. Which was months ago.
Good lord, I can ramble on for a long time when it's 5 AM and I can't sleep. Oh well. JMZ ROCKZORS AND ROLLZORS, HARD.
Posted by: Jon Houser at July 31, 2004 05:04 AMIndeed discovering some DFW can do crazy things, I'd imaging, after you've spent a lot of time reading about actual literary theory. This weekend I'll bring along Girl With Curious Hair so you can read the title story. It's got a hilarious narrative style and is a hilarious story. Plus it's really short. That's the story that got him expelled from school and eventually got the teacher that was teaching him fired. You know. For expelling him. Of course after reading it I could see why she was freaked out, but hey you know me. And I know you, so I know you'll find it pretty cool.
Lepidoptera is really good, man. It reminding me of IJ is hardly a bad thing. I really love that kind of narrative. Relaxed, care free, different. Something that you have to read for a second to realize what you're reading. I've been trying to mess with that. Although I've been taking a writing break...
On the note of literary theory, I need you to teach me some basic English this weekend if you could. I evidently need a lesson in punctuation really bad. When I found out about that I got quite bummed out and now I just really haven't tried anything here recently.
Ah... eleven thirty and I just woke up thinking it was Tuesday and then remembered that it's Saturday for some reason. And now it's time to program.
Posted by: Captian Jonathan!!! at July 31, 2004 11:31 AMIt comes with time Jon, it comes with time.
Posted by: Don't Sleep, Just Drink Coffee at July 31, 2004 03:20 PMHey yoes, Jav-o here. This is a story I just wrote. Just now.
I HAVE FINALLY HIT puberty TODAY.
INDEED, I have. My voice finally got low. Oh yeah.
I be raking in the femeninas like Elvis' corps.
I can finally grow facial hair in places (like under my lip) or over even.
The opportunities and their inboundlesslessismitude are in accordance with my aptitude and acumen.
Glavin.
Glissatto.
My glissattos finally dropped.
(Glissatto is some of my own personal Javannistic argot.)
Oh yeah.
In other news... I finally snuck one past the goalie. (see also... reference to glissatto)
In other news still... I am black. And tall. And crazay. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!1one
Hey Jeremy. Do you like boeties/backslashquestionmark@question.mark?
In other news I grew a flange and a minge. I hurt myself with an axe, causing an axe-wound and I went to the doctor and he prescribed a cream for my my new spam-purse which is oddly reminiscent to 24/hour/techical support/.*
#
*This is Javann.
#Keep that in mind at all times, please.
In other news, let's see here, I found out finally who my real father is. Turns out my father who looks exactly me I'm talking about exactly like me (let's face it I mean for real like exactly like me) is actually a false prophet of 1800's dogma stylee who was cloned and sent to the future and soon began to procreate huge Nephelem who look exactly like him (i.e. me) even with a company logo... THE STASH. YOU bunch of luncheon meat truncheons.
In other news you have a lot of dust on this little table thing here and ironically enough you have a precarious duster right on top of it plus a spray duster can like whoa.
VODKA11111111111111111*#$
*hey guys this is javann
#this is not not javann
$I drank so much vodka that I accidentally made the world's biggest margarita by accidentally spreading salt around my toilet bowl.*
*don't eat the worm(see also... hiroki takemuro)*
*this is by none other than Javann Jones and Javann Jones.*
*#
#(see also… the Icelandic snow pidgins spam-purse)
Posted by: Don't Sleep, Just Drink Coffee at July 31, 2004 11:47 PMWow. That was the worse imitation of me yet. You guys have got to get better at that.
Posted by: I Frown On Imitations, Especially Bad Ones at August 1, 2004 10:58 AM