Baffling Realities

What awakened me was the same thing that always ended sleep: the intense, real sensation that I was choking to death. Gasping, I plunged forward from where I lay, stuck two thumbs underneath the thing strangling me and ripped it from my throat. For several moments I sat chest heaving air back into my lungs. In a few minutes, I lifted the object which almost killed me...again. It was a tie. The sort of thing any guy might wear. But, I gazed around; the other accouterments were there...again. A pair of leather shoes, a briefcase and a suit bag with a note attached. That was different. I reached over, grabbed the bag, dragging it to me. Already the shock was setting in and even though I had moonlight enough to read by, my mind could barely read the words. After several tries, the message made sense: ‘Pick up dry-cleaning.’ Frustrated, I threw the suit bag to one side. My head hurt, eyelids heavy, I crashed back on the forest floor and stared up at the stars. God, I needed help.

I can't remember when I first heard the story of Bloody Mary..you know, that cute little kid tale where if you gaze into your bathroom mirror and say her name three times in a row, you'll see Bloody Mary right behind you. All I remember is... trying it. Bathroom dimly lit, I bit my lip, took a deep breath and decided I was going to make some magic. I crossed my arms, stared directly into the mirror and said, "Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary..." Nothing. I did it again. Still...nothing. I remember feeling eyes at the back of my head but chalked it up to realizing that I was standing in the dark talking to a mirror. Nothing particularly scary about it. it was just...just stupid. And then it was bedtime. Midnight. I don't know why I woke up, I just did. I lay in bed listening to the sounds of our house for a while. The downstairs cuckoo clock ticked away. In another minute the bird jumped out and gave his 12 cuckoo salute. I couldn

Rap is crap Kiddie rhymes Same old beat every time. It’s sung by creeps so blown full of herbage they’ll never even spell ‘sesquipedalian verbiage.’ Too sweet a little bit tame? Then restrain your mouth and let me explain. First, sophophobia makes them think utopia is beyond allegorical, metaphorical, when it merely forms the basis of a hypocatastasis. Insensate yammering does not make good jamming. Might as well go consume a ball of carmine, cochineal... Once you see how that feels try E452; emulsifier, stabilizer... Try that on your plate, but cover well with monosodium glutamate. If you don’t like the words if you wish they were keener, then go find out what’s in your own freaking wiener! Inconversant but not divergent you’re hordes of lemmings with the trimmings. Unpremeditated, inadvertent Kakarrhaphobia never let you go, but then instead of calling an end you dove right into failure. So hear what I’m saying, it’s no time for playing. If you don’t

Here are a few facts: The night of February 24th, 1942, air raid sirens sounded throughout greater Los Angeles. A large, orange-colored craft slowly hovered over the beach. Witnesses report it looking like a “jack-o-lantern.” The 37th Coast Artillery Brigade was ordered to begin firing at 3:16 a.m. (History Channel/The Battle of Los Angeles.) Can you imagine the sheer terror caused by those four events? Babies crying, dogs barking, families hiding…Think of what you would do and feel if the Russians were overhead about to bomb your city. People were terrified. On February 25th 1942, diners at a trendy Hollywood club called the Trocadero were among the first to witness the lights of Los Angeles shutting down. It was just after 2 a.m. and the blackout lasted until 7:21 a.m. Diners ran for their cars. The city had over a million people roused from sleep that night by the sounds and sights of war. Light blazed overhead, the air raid sirens didn’t stop. “Searchlights scanned the skies and