At the mercy of public transportation

He sits on the bed,
the screen glowing softly beside
him, while sounds of jazzed-up
Broadway hits are transmitted
from satellite to
satellite to
him
as he waits for a
customer service agent.

He dozes; the clock
ticks quietly in the next room.

After a dream --
a mutant cat eating a street
full of people? --
a voice interrupts the music.

He explains the problem,
patiently.
It's been two hours, he says.
She tells him there
has been a glitch in the system,
the ones and zeros
didn't add up,
we're sorry.

We can request a ticket
to be waiting for you at the desk,
she says. He can hear her smiling,
falsely.
That would be great, he says.
It will take some time, she says,
We'll call you with the confirmation number.

Confirmation number;
A glitch in the system;
Customer service agent.

The clock
ticks quietly in the next room,
the screen glowing quietly
beside him.

The three dollar convenience fee
is mocking him;

he sighs.

I Saw A Squirrel: "Not An Exit"

I Saw A Squirrel: "Impressing The Pope"

Seriously? This is our president? Awesome.

Response: Founder's Day

In regards to Justin's post, I whole-heartedly agree. We will need a T-shirt. I will also voice my stern opinion that those Candyland kids are scary as hell -- as I put it to Justin earlier, "they remind me of the kids of one of my old high school teachers... They were frightening children-of-the-corn type kids..." -- but as no other ideas have yet been suggested, I've done the initial tracing:

(Click for full size)

God, those kids are creepy. It is just me, or does the black and white make them look like they're wearing prison jumpsuits? Also, keep in mind that this isn't quite stencil-ready; I couldn't get it to work in my head, so you should all feel free to chop away at it until it works.

Or, (please, dear lord), suggest something different. I was thinking a stencil of one of the Candyland game pieces, (you know those little plastic 2-D figurines?), but I can't find a good image. Or hell, it doesn't even have to relate to Candyland, per se, (though it probably shouldn't be about Brisco Country Jr. or something quite that far off. Much as I like a non sequitur, that would just be weird).

Response: ::floating::

Why must one walk calmly through this
ordered plane — where logic
precedes action;
where practicality
precludes every piece of the
puzzle; where programming
prevents spontaneity,
those psychological splashes
of silver and satin color —
when the world within
my wandering mind
wears a wild fantasy,
a fearless fervor
which feeds my dreams?

Jump —

Why do they insist
that imagination resides
entirely inside, behind
the eyes?

They say you wake, or fall;
yet I see you fly.

Ben Franklin, Ed Rendell, and A Dozen Eagles Cheerleaders

On Wednesday, I proudly stood in several lines, dripped vegetarian sandwich sauce on my pants, took off my belt for the metal detectors, and giggled gleefully like a little girl all for the sake of being in the studio audience for the Colbert Report in Philly.

...Or, as it has been officially dubbed, Stephen Colbert's Doritos Spicy Sweet Pennsylvania Primary Coverage Live from Chiladelphia, the City of Brotherly Crunch.

And it was amazing. I sat in the second row right at the corner of the stage. I saw how a TV show is filmed. I got to slap Colbert's hand. Benjamin Franklin made reference to French prostitutes. One of the Eagles cheerleaders smiled and waved at me. I got to slap Colbert's hand again. The only thing that could have made it better would have been a delicious Philly cheesesteak slathered in Whiz presented to me by a tuxedo-clad waiter riding a velociraptor. Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to bring food into the theater, or I would have been all over that, too.

...And just to prove it, here is a an actual screen capture from the show that aired at 11.30pm on Wed. April 16. Let's play a little game of "Where's Waldo," shall we?

Can you locate all the important characters in the above photo? Give up? Here are the answers:

All in all, 'twas a wonderful day. I'm thinking next time I go up to NYC, I should really try and get tickets to The Daily Show. You know, complete my experience of the Comedy Central dynamic duo; the dream ticket; the late-night political power hour.

In the meantime, I'mma go vote in the Pennsylvania Democratic primary, which is being hailed as "the first time since 1976 that Pennsylvania will play a major role in a presidential nomination." Take that, Bicentennial.

I Saw A Squirrel: "In The News"

Side note: This was inspired by an actual news story from Dec. 2007, starring a dude in Wenatchee, Washington. No joke. You can read about it from the local Wenatchee World article; or, even better, here's another write-up from metro.co.uk, (be sure to read all the way to the last paragraph).

I Done Did It Good

Today I did a little freelance electrician work for a small theater in the next town over. Woke up at 6.30am, (holy crap was I not ready for that), so I could be on the train by 7.30 and at the theater by 8. My mom greeted me at the bottom of the stairs with, "Oh, wow, I forgot you were getting up this early. I'm impressed you're awake! Too bad I'm going to school, I could have given you a ride." (Thanks, mom).

I got to the theater a bit early, and sat in the amazing morning air until Lauren, the production manager, unlocked the doors and let me in. At first I was annoyed that the first brilliant spring day of the year would be spent in a dark, dusty theater, but then I realized that on any other day I wouldn't even be awake until 11, and I should be grateful to see this so-called "morning" at all.

It was the kind of invigorating theater work I haven't done in so long: I deciphered an incoherent plot; I climbed ladders while carrying too much heavy equipment; I hung, struck and rehung lights; I ran circuits; I ate a donut; I joked about how annoying actors can be. We ended up finishing everything in only 4 hours. When I left, I had cuts and scrapes, not to mention a layer of generic filth, all over my hands and arms. Man, did it feel good.

It seems stupid, however, to have to fill out a bunch of tax forms so they can pay me $52... Minus taxes.

Damn you, IRS. Damn you.

I Saw A Squirrel: "Mentalism"