Wednesday, December 31, 2003

Porpoise Song

One last tied-up plot thread before the end of the year.

nerdyitch: hello! anyone there?
kidicarus222: hello?
nerdyitch: i read your blog
kidicarus222: who is this?
nerdyitch: and i thought i'd say hello
nerdyitch: i'm one of your "fans"
kidicarus222: oh!
kidicarus222: hey
kidicarus222: yeah, i read yours too
nerdyitch: oh cool
kidicarus222: yeah, have i met you?
nerdyitch: no sir
nerdyitch: i don't think i have
kidicarus222: oh
kidicarus222: i was just wondering how you ever came accross my page
kidicarus222: these things interets me
nerdyitch: its interesting stuff
nerdyitch: but i found it on the side of the main blogger website
kidicarus222: ah
nerdyitch: yeah random
kidicarus222: can i ask why you linked to me?
nerdyitch: my friends are dorks like me, so i thought they'd like it too
kidicarus222: ah
kidicarus222: well i'm glad you like it
kidicarus222: it makes me happy to know if anybody's reading this
nerdyitch: thanks, sorry for intruding in your life
nerdyitch: :D
kidicarus222: oh no
kidicarus222: it's totally cool
kidicarus222: honestly, i'm flattered
nerdyitch: aren't you a writer or something though?
kidicarus222: reporter
kidicarus222: yeah
kidicarus222: what do you do?
nerdyitch: i'm just a college student
nerdyitch: studying bio
kidicarus222: where at?
nerdyitch: ucla
kidicarus222: cool
kidicarus222: i'm at ucsb
nerdyitch: oh nice
nerdyitch: is it true what they say?
kidicarus222: what do they say?
nerdyitch: univ of sex and beer?
kidicarus222: well yeah
kidicarus222: but you can get an education too
kidicarus222: i did, anyway
kidicarus222: they also say "u can stay buzzed"
kidicarus222: which you could, if you wanted
nerdyitch: hehehe

Tuesday, December 30, 2003

Liminal Realty

I took the new digital camera to the environs of the lodge, a two-room structure at the edge of my development off Cienega Road. Since I was little, I always associated the lodge with the boundary between the human and natural worlds. Somehow, this little structure stood just at the point of where charted territory gave way to the wild, thistle-choked trails that could lead to the Yukon or even farther.

With age, I’ve learned the area is actually just pastureland for grazing cattle, only slightly more wild than my backyard. Beyond this, a tennis court, complete with regulation green and red demarcations, sits next to the lodge. So much for all the rustic. Nonetheless, this spot draws me back.

Walking around gives me with the same feeling I get when I walk on through a graveyard. Just as a tombstones mark that a certain plot of land belongs to the dead, I think the overgrown bushes and dilapidated human structures mark the lodge area as a small chunk of land nature itself is trying to reclaim.

So much there is odd. So much catches my eye. Decaying wooden planks. A plastic necklace lost by some careless little girl. A desiccated baseball, having rotted in the brush for God knows how long. In the bleak gray of late December, even the house on the hill overlooking the lodge looms with an eerie starkness like you might see in a Tim Burton film.

Nature hasn’t yet subjugated humans. It’s still a conflict in progress, or so I thought while I snapped a picture of an old fence running up a hill and alongside a giant oak. Surely, the oak will one day win.

I didn’t see another soul during the two hours I walked around taking pictures. When I was young, I used to think that some evil hobo lived in the lodge. I’ve never fully convinced myself that one doesn’t.

Some places are better of left alone.

Monday, December 29, 2003

Walk Away, Renee

Nobody likes rain more than I do, but today it's raining mean.

Sunday, December 28, 2003

Ride the Snake

Ride the snake.
Jimmy Tango: Hi! Do you recognize this tub of crap? That's me, three-and-a-half weeks ago! Since then, I've lost 155 pounds! Yes, you heard me right! I lost 155 pounds in less than three weeks! How did I lose all that gross fat? By combining the miracle of technology with ordinary street junkies! Producing this: Jimmy Tango's Fat Busters! It's this simple: wear my patented vibrating heat-bead suit, then jam an unbelievable amount of pure, raw crystal meth into your system!

You might ask, "Isn't crystal meth illegal?" You bet! But my scientist, Dr. Cody, spends his days in a tin shed deep inside a small canyon outside San Bernadino, constantly altering the scientific formula of a bathtub crank that keeps us one step ahead the law, and keeps you one step ahead of the fat farm! Fatties, here's my promise: wear my vibrating heat beads, while blasting down handfuls of crrystal meth, and you'll drop weight so fast you'll lose your mind! Any questions? You!

Male Audience Member: Jimmy, I like what I hear, but even though I'm not a doctor, it sounds unhealthy. Does the kind of dramatic weight loss you describe have any side effects?

Jimmy Tango: You betcha!

In my case, when I close my eyes, all I see are spiders and snails! My skin is clammy! My mouth is very dry! I think of suicide nonstop! And five minutes ago, I vomited the strangest colors into my stage manager's fanny pack! But you know what? The main side effect is, these days when I'm wearing a blue suit, and I yawn, people don't try to stuff a letter into my mouth!

Get off!! Folks, if you're serious about weight loss, then you shouldn't be afraid to... "Ride The Snake!"
— ride the snake — Now! Let's talk to some of my clients! Hi, Olive Oyl! Have you always been so thin, hmm?

Female Client: No! I used to be a 220-pound land monster! And, in eight days, by "Riding The Snake"
— ride the snake — I lost 124 pounds! I've never had a date in my life, but two days ago, I made out with Scott Baio at a party!

Jimmy, by using your method, I really lost weight fast! Probably too fast! The stress you put on my body made me slip into the bowels of a red nightmare! I sleep in my oven! My hair falls out in clumps! I cry when I see a tree! And I burn symbols into my housepets with a curling iron! But it's worth it, because, these days, when I'm wearing a black jumpsuit, I look like a closed umbrella! Thank you, Jimmy!

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

I Got a Haircut

Hollister has to substitute the traditional white Christmas with a wet, gray one — not that I’m complaining. Christmas lights twinkle all the more brilliantly through raindrops on a window pane.
Lonesome tears
I can't cry them anymore
I can't think of what they're for
Oh they ruin me every time

But I'll try
And leave behind some days
These tears just can't erase
I don't need them anymore
I got a haircut.

The last time I let someone take the scissors to me was in England, in late July. I’ve never seen five months’ worth of my own hair on the floor before, and I’ve never noticed the shape of my skull looking so weird. It’s a lot less blonde now, too. And in a way, I miss that most of all; the blonde on my head had gotten that way from summer sunlight in Roma and Interlaken.
I’ve seen the end of the day come too soon
Not a lot to say, not a lot to do
You played the game, you owe nothing to yourself
Rest a day, for tomorrow you can't tell

The Super Cuts next to the grocery store is now staffed by a bunch of chubby Hispanic girls I graduated high school with. In Hollister, it seems like chubby Hispanic girls are the only ones who give haircuts. Funny how I trust my hair to people with crispy, shiny bangs. They asked me if I've talked to people I haven't talked to in years.
There's too many people you used to know
They see you coming they see you go.
They know your secrets and you know theirs
This town is crazy, but nobody cares
Despite the holidays, I’m happy. Quietly happy. Or happily quiet. By why can’t I listen to anything but the saddest songs Beck ever wrote?
People pushing harder
Up against themselves
Make their daggers sharper
Than their faces tell

Babe, its your time now
Loose change we could spend
Where we are going
Round, round, round the bend
In twelve hours, it'll be Christmas. Why was I counting down to this again?

Tuesday, December 23, 2003


I think if I had to chose between visiting the Greater Antilles and the Lesser Antilles, I'd go for the Greater Antilles. I've heard the Lesser Antilles were a bit disappointing.

Monday, December 22, 2003

Mister, Can You Tell Me Where My Love Has Gone?

I was at the Home Depot in Gilroy, where they stack two-by-fours and pickaxes and other mining equipment two stories high, when it occurred to me that Home Depot would be the worst place to be during an earthquake. Toppling, tumbling, sharp things pinning people here and there.

I got to the checkout lane, though, and everybody else was talking about earthquakes. [confusion] Outside, a ton of car alarms were going off. [weirdness]

I called Mom and asked her what was up. Apparently, about when I was thinking about earthquakes, a 6.5 temblor rolled through Cambria and San Simeon. People felt it as far north as San Francisco and as far south as Los Angeles. I made a beeline for Costco to look at digital cameras, but scores of Christmas shoppers were gathered around the TV displays, just like people are always gathered around store display TVs whenever a natural disaster happens or the presidential addresses the nation or JFK gets assassinated. They were all watching a special report about the Cambria earthquake. [Pretty much the only time Cambria’s made national news, I’ll bet.] Why did I think about earthquakes right before one shook most of central California? Obviously, I have ESP. But there’s still a chance I somehow just barely noticed the shaking — a gentle rolling motion, Twyla says, that lasted about 45 seconds — and got thrown just slightly off balance and then subconsciously remembered every other earthquake I’ve ever been in. Or something.

[Hollister, California: earthquake capital of the world. And the only place where people don’t give a damn how much the earth moves under our feet.]

I got a roll of film developed. Odds and ends: Andy’s apartment, Cory and me driving from Hollister back to I.V., and Halloween. Me, the non-Japanese Crazy 88, and Kami the slutty flamingo (slutmingo?).

Kami's from Cambria. I should give her a call and find out if anything fell on her. Let’s hear it for aftershocks.

Shining, Streaming, Gleaming, Flaxen, Waxin'


So I found this nifty little website that tells you what webpages link to what webpages. Just type in a web address and BAM! You know who's telling people you're cool. So I slapped in the Cereal Box's address.

The first one is the girl who keeps this site, a blog entitled either nerdy*itch or Superficial Nice Girl. A nice girl, I think, with an Audrey fixation (Hepburn/Tautau). She put me one notch above the Onion! Hey hey! I tried sending her a nice email inquiring who she was and how she found out about me, but it bounced back. Nice lady: if you can read this, IM me at kidicarus222. We should talk.

Less pleasantly, I also got a shout out from the guy who keeps a blog called The Great Satan Quarterly. Huh. His email didn't bounce back. Should be interesting.

And finally, the only other unknown was some guy running a site called Kid B.

Online weirdness.

[ three days ]

Sunday, December 21, 2003

Susan Biddle Ross

She's not really gone if we find a way to remember her.

Friday, December 19, 2003

Like a Wild Potato

Only five types of people post on Friendster: poseur indie kids (so "fashion," as Kami says), Asians, computer nerds, and gay guys, and a handful of normals. Me? I span genres.

[ six days ]

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

Said a Giant Clam

Jessica and I saw Rob Lowe at Borders.

[ eight days left ]

Monday, December 15, 2003

Cory and the Small Soda

kidicarus222: you left your stupid grateful dead tickets on the floor behind the couch
Satellite1818: i know
kidicarus222: no you don't
Satellite1818: i remembered them on the plane.
kidicarus222: they were nearly under the couch
Satellite1818: yeah, i put 'em there whilst watching harold and maude
kidicarus222: i know
kidicarus222: i remember
kidicarus222: i didn't think you would, though
kidicarus222: how's the small soda?
Satellite1818: is there anyone there, or is nate the only person in the whole town for you to hang out with? soda?
Satellite1818: right
Satellite1818: it's damn cold
Satellite1818: and very snowy. i went out to do 180s in a parking lot today, and that was all my fun since nobody else is back yet.
kidicarus222: nate and jill and jessica and brie are here
kidicarus222: and some more...
kidicarus222: yeah
kidicarus222: and internship application
kidicarus222: he's here too
kidicarus222: some other people are here too, see?
kidicarus222: some people i don't think i would ever have talked to if everyone else hadn't skipped town
kidicarus222: anyway, it's cold and boring here
kidicarus222: but possibly less cold and less boring than where you are
Satellite1818: indeed
Satellite1818: and two hours later
kidicarus222: i am having a war with jingle kitty
Satellite1818: no casualties yet, i hope
Satellite1818: i mean later
kidicarus222: a tomato
Satellite1818: poor guy
kidicarus222: he had it coming
kidicarus222: but yeah
kidicarus222: sad stuff
Satellite1818: i assume you started it
kidicarus222: he was seeing this nice pickle back home
kidicarus222: in the fridge
Satellite1818: the pickle will probably never even know what happened
kidicarus222: especially since i will eat her
kidicarus222: as food is running out
Satellite1818: end her pain, drew
Satellite1818: i have to sleep
kidicarus222: i'm wearing an article of your clothing right now
Satellite1818: dah!
kidicarus222: it's like a sweater
kidicarus222: black
kidicarus222: with a zipper
kidicarus222: it looked warm
Satellite1818: black?
Satellite1818: gray
kidicarus222: dark gray
Satellite1818: yeah. i stole it from someone else
kidicarus222: like
kidicarus222: pretty fucking near black
Satellite1818: jah
kidicarus222: well, it's mine now
Satellite1818: fair enough
kidicarus222: and i spilled bear all over it
kidicarus222: no
kidicarus222: beer
Satellite1818: i was wondering where you got the bear
kidicarus222: who did you steal this from?
Satellite1818: hampton
kidicarus222: the tiny toon?
kidicarus222: hampton j. pig?
kidicarus222: the one that dates fifi the skunk?
kidicarus222: confusingly, i might add
Satellite1818: yes. hampton j. pig. but, as a result of heavy methamphetamine use, he's lost a good deal of weight
Satellite1818: you wouldn't even recognize him, really
kidicarus222: you'd be surprised
Satellite1818: except for the snout
kidicarus222: i'm very perceptive
kidicarus222: i was a reporter, after all
Satellite1818: i need sleep, i go bed now
kidicarus222: this is something i have to remind myself when i type internship applications
kidicarus222: i was a reporter
kidicarus222: i am a reporter
kidicarus222: but whatever
kidicarus222: good night, irene
Satellite1818: night maude

Saturday, December 13, 2003

Bacon and Potatoes, Baking in the Sun

Things I learned from movies yesterday.

1) I think "Harold and Maude" taught us all some valuable lessons on life — and living.

2) "Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman" taught me that Carrie Mae Weems is well-known enough to warrant mention in a superhero cartoon.

3) And "The Manchurian Candidate" taught me that Angela Lansbury can be so evil.

[ pipers piping. twelve days ]

Wednesday, December 10, 2003

A Monkey in a Turban

Commencing the Holly Jolly Countdown.
Last night I had the strangest dream
Saw everybody running in the streets
Leapfrogging salmon trying to get upstream
The dream was over but I could not sleep
I had to put on the lights when she said that

Last night I had the strangest dream
The sky was dark and I could not see
Felt underwater when I tried to scream
When I heard the rooster I was finally free
I was a little bit frightened when he said that

Last night I had the strangest dream
Me and the chickens running in the streets
We met a monkey with an eye that gleamed
He drew that line — we couldn't move our beaks
A doggie woke me and he said hey rooster

Last night I had the strangest dream
The war was over but I had no peace
The moon was waning so it wasn't the beams
It's just a dream but I have no peace
I eavesdropped on my masters they said that

Last night we had the strangest dream
It was disturbing, oh what does it mean?
Monkey in a turban, oh what does it mean?
Last night we had the strangest dream
We better go to the mayor then we drove
Downtown to have a talk with the mayor
He told my masters uh, oh, can't you see?
What we have here is a prophecy
Cross your fingers people say a prayer
I'm not a religious dog but I say that

Better pray for the girls
Better pray for the girls
Ain't no other hope in this whole world

In sleep we searched behind the sun
A funny place to find someone
We did not find them on the moon
We dreamed that's where they disappeared
We dreamed perhaps another pearl
Or dangling on some other dune
But darker dreams we fear
Where'd you go this time, girls?

Better pray for the girls
Better pray for the girls
Ain't no other hope in this whole world

I Follow Where My Mind Goes

Later the next afternoon, the realization hits me.

YoAmoEMO: i had so much fun though
kidicarus222: yeah
YoAmoEMO: i can't belive we were drinking straight sake
kidicarus222: we were, weren't we?
kidicarus222: wow
kidicarus222: i forgot that

And tonight: the Holly Jolly Christmas Party. Whee.

[ fifteen days ]

Tuesday, December 09, 2003

Searching for Even Steven

I killed a shrub monster today and got a shovel as a reward. Conversely, my alarm clock has taken a vacation. But I guess if I was a person's most hated possession, I'd need a holiday too.

[ sixteen days ]

Sunday, December 07, 2003


A: I am first.
B: I am last.
A: I am the master.
B: I am the slave.
A: I am the Gentile.
B: I am the Jew.
A: I the west.
B: I am the east.
A: I am the rabbit.
B: I am the hunter.
A: I am the eucalyptus leaf.
B: I am the koala bear.
A: I am the maiden.
B: I am the maiden's slutty older sister.
A: I am the lemur.
B: I am whatever eats lemurs.
A: I am Frank.
B: I am the man who steps on the back of Frank's shoe.

Saturday, December 06, 2003

My Beloved Cocksuckasaur

Sure, it's finals, but why study? There's an Al Sharpton-hosted Saturday Night Live on in half an hour and it's too rainy to go outside. I'm so not in the mindset to study that I can even waste my time rating the women of Mario Kart.

Last place: Daisy. Fuck you. I can't believe you can fit so much retardedness in your body. No one else feels the need to repeatedly introduce themselves every time they take the wheel. "Hi! I'm Daisy!" Hi, you're a fucking moron and I hate you. You may have had hot short-shorts in Mario Golf, but now I realize that you suck.

Third place: Toadette. What the fuck? Toadette? I didn't even know Toads had gender, but this Strawberry Shortcake wannabe changes all that. I don't go for midgets with mushrooms growing out of their braids, so I hate you too. But I hate Daisy more, so you get third. Eat me.

Second place: Peach. Ah, Princess Toadstool herself. Beautiful, kind, regal, wise — she's the pinnacle of femininity, really. Plus, she has Barbie-like proportions and she's not an infuriating chatterbox like Daisy. She'd easy snag first place if it wasn't for...

The winner: Birdo. Yes, Birdo is a dinosaur... or something. Yes, she quacks in lieu of speech. Yes, she technically used to be a transvestite, but that apparently never happened now. And yes, she spits eggs out of her mouth. But look at that bazooka beak. With a mouth like that, she must suck cock like nobody's business.

Love of my life? Or a physical manifestation of my willingness to exchange human-to-human romance for a cocksuckasaur?

[ nineteen days ]

Friday, December 05, 2003

Sun and Air, Sun and Heir

I dined at the Rendezvous des Cherminots. The patronne was there and I had to kiss her, but it was mainly out of politeness. She disgusts me a little. She is too white and besides, she smells like a newborn child. She pressed my head against her breast in a burst of passion: she thinks it is the right thing. I played distracted with her sex under the cover; then, my arm when to sleep.

I thought about de Rollebon: after all, why shouldn't I write a novel on his life? I let my arm run along the woman's thigh and suddenly saw a small garden with low, wide trees on which immense hairy, leaves were hanging. Ants were running everywhere, centipedes and ringworm. There were even more horrible animals: their bodies were made from a slice of toast, the kind you put under roast pigeons; they walked sideways with legs like a crab. The larger leaves were black with beasts. Behind the cactus and the Barbary fig trees, the Velleda of the public park pointed a finger at her sex.

"This park smells like vomit," I shouted.
Nausea, Jean-Paul Sartre.

[ twenty days ]

Tuesday, December 02, 2003

Just Like Everybody Else Does

Now with "Tampopo," "Ringu," "Ran," "Yune," and "Battle Royale," I've just realized that I've never seen a Japanese movie that didn't have the ocean in it. Yeah, Japan's an island. And being so skinny, it would be damn hard not to have the ocean. But that's just an odd aspect of Japanese movies, I guess. They can't not have the ocean in them. Unlike us, who usually don't put the ocean in movies.

Funny stuff.

Monday, December 01, 2003

Yoyo Ellenboggan

Three Thanksgiving dinners under my belt — literally — plus one Hamsgiving desecration to pilgrim heritage equals dreamy weirdness for Drew. (An equation.)
I’m in a bar or some place where people go to listen to music. I am meeting Cory and his new girlfriend (who exists only within this dream.) But when I sit down at the table, I recognize her. I tell her that I know her already and that I remember her name is Ellen. But she laughs. She tells me that when she said her name was Ellen, she was lying. Her real name, she says, is Yoyo Ellenboggan.

I’m totally confused. Cory explains that when she said her name was Ellen, it was a joke. I don’t get it. They do. They laugh. I don’t.

Who the fuck is this Yoyo Ellenboggan?
After watching "Battle Royale," I’ve decided that if I — as a 14-year-old — were forced to kill my classmates in some government-initiated high school fight-the-death last-man-standing kill-a-thon, I’d probably crack and kill myself. But if somehow I survived and it was just me and another guy who had come out on top together, I would know that he would be a true friend, having not taken these multiple chances to off me.

My soul, I'm told, is four nickels. And so begins a new countdown. Twenty-four days until Christmas.