ten minutes on power three

Pop quiz.
Q: How long does it take to thaw a quart of yogurt that is frozen, not frozen yogurt, in the microwave until it is soft enough to chisel off a small hunk with a spoon?
A: About as long as it takes to boil macaroni noodles in a kitchen devoid of any other suitable milk product to cut the viscosity of the main dish.

Why there is a quart of yogurt-that-is-frozen in the freezer, I may never know. Luckily, the house has plenty of the all-purpose topping, ketchup. Tomato yogurt... There's one Yoplait hasn't attempted. Frankly, if they made Custard Style Key Lime Pie in bigger containers I might invent a new mode of death. ( Refraining from calling it God's Anything. )

I refer to God in the proper tense seldomly. It is less than an acknowledgement when done. Somebody's playing with the clouds tonight, and I think it's the meteorologist. Judging Amy, a television mini-series I assume ( "Mini" by way of my projected long-term interest the nation will have in the show. ) was interrupted by a "Weather Alert" promising plenty of stormy weather headed our way. Then the alert was rudely interrupted by Judging Amy. Not finding the will to live, save some severe thunderstorm action in the near future, nor the will to struggle through menu after menu to find the Weather Channel, I switched to the big screen and waited on the porch for something to happen. Nothing yet, I'll keep you posted.

Beverage: Leinenkugel's Boringinal, Buttery Noodles

a little on the chicken-ey side

Every word thunk is a word soon stumbled over. Planning an exit before the entrance. Anticipation of the hindsight. To relax is to go blank. With going blank comes the exit too soon. A script cannot be stuck with when only I know her lines. No matter the outcome, let it have the fluidity of a television show.

nature girl

Wed, 18 Jun 2003 19:50:42 -0700
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Hello,

My name is Marty Stouffer. I eat guys named George.
Most of them are pretty gamey and a little on the chicken-ey side....but hell, food is food.
Most of them can't run very fast so it's not the thrill of the hunt that keeps me coming back. No, the secret to my near lukewarm passion for George meat is, you guessed it, the convenience. They are found on nearly every continent, and all you need is a bright shiny object to distract them and a club. It's like shootin' fish in a really really small barrel that's crammed really really full of really really big fish. I especially like eating the young ones, older members of the George species tend to make for a tired and stringy plate of meat. You know?

Aside from filming and narrating nature documentaries, I also like:
-selling films to the saps at pbs
-shitting in the woods (screw Charmin, leaves are what make a man, a man)
-watching wild turkeys fornicating on cold winter evenings

Now, how about a little about you? I know I've talked a moose's hind leg off, I think it's your turn. (ahem.) bitch.

Sincerely, THE BIG M. DAWG

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bear

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picture of home

that's me on the left

journal entry #001 - ate too much cranberry pie

i'm like, OMG! my sex life is soooo boring. true as that may be, i won't delve into it. however, i will tend to get more into the journalistic applications of a blogger page. to mock the millions who bitch in online journals about their luck in the world of dating? perhaps i have a little already. there's a special treat at the end of the blog, so stay tuned.

this may have a free-association edge to it. as i usually do, this time i am without shiny nuggets already in my pockets. how many times can i write in an aire of amazement about the untouched environment of northern wisconsin? there are many more daily occurances worthy of the pen in day-to-day life in the metropolis. pretty soon i'll be like, 'oh, yeah, i ate a bowl of bran flakes today and saw a two squirrels mating outside my bathroom window.' on the other hand, many pen-worthy things seem happen when drunk. and there's no shortage of alcohol in wisconsin, nor in my fridge.

let's talk about the casino. i'm up on the casino about $3 since arriving. Lawrence is up at least $90 from putting the blackjack table to shame. it's in a sovereign nation of native americans about a mile up the road from bayfield. wednesday is 'spin the wheel night.' generally one comes out ahead on this day. what the tribe is counting on is a few of you coming back on a thursday. can't argue with the lack of tax on the reservation. $2.50 for a bottle of guinness stout, $1.50 for domestic on tap. cigarettes are legalized insanity too.

let's talk about the weather. 40 shades of gray descended upon this little coastal town. never to fear. i have more than the soundtrack for lying on thine belly and coasting in and out of a doze. let's talk about music. i dug up a tape my close friend cian compiled for me probably 7 years ago. 'a sad tape for a sad guy.' apparently i was having girl-trouble. let's talk about girls. let's refrain.

since leaving the literal confines of ashland behavioral health unit, things couldn't be fabulouser. it's painful to admit that professional detainment righted by occasional temporary insanity, but it has. i can't lay all the credit to them, 90% of which are chumps, chimps, or choads. 10% had substance to their persons, and i've been quoted as such in the height of psychosis. you know who you are. there's also #1. spending 2 months in a hospital for an illness that is similar to contracting 'hit by a bus,' i was in shock. for 7 years after, to some degree, i huddled inward, was avoidant like a cat avoids being thrown in a bathtub. instead of getting a chuckle out of a joke, i became paranoid that it was in some round-about way referring to me. i strived to leave this behind. and i think it made me stronger, though maturity has been creeping in only recently.

chest tube scars which drove me to believe i had been speared by roman soldiers on the cross. glances at chest x-rays that looked like i had been eating containers of food instead of fishing out the contents, which i believed. trying my damndest to convince professionals that i had the same illness as my grandmother, though getting only catch-22 responses. waking up in the middle of the night to the realization that i had no idea if i was 16 or 60 years of age. staring at the blank television screen until something came on. having the ugliness of life and its processes explained to me by horned angels. my word.

this will be the first and last time i get into that mountain of shit. my mother saved pictures of me on the ventilator and skinny as a rod when i started pushing my iv stand around the halls. i'm not very interested in seeing them. i believe i've never written about it until now. the more i get it out the better, but that cup of liquid manure is getting down to the dregs, and i'm ready to move on. in case you don't know me, it was meningicoccal spinal meningitis that nearly took my heart and lungs away on valentine's day 1995. but i'll always have my spine. Hence the title, an Ojibwa man told me that in Ojibwa, my saying the name of the illness sounded like his people's word for cranberry pie. it's now my term for making light of the situation.

Mood:

Music: Enya, Micheal Bolton, Yanni, Joni Mitchell

nature boy

Marty Stouffer here. My reintroduction to the wild was kicked off by slamming into a doe, a deer, a female deer, in a pickup truck a mile outside the city limits. Since packing it up to the nether regions of Wisconsin from the larger, though day-walkable, metropolis of the southern side of the state, I have witnessed first hand several marvels of ecological Darwinism. Where does a hummingbird get off beating its wings at a rate faster than a G-force video card can produce, a lightning bug making its ass glow to attract mates, a skunk warding off unsuspectors with an unearthly smell of ass, a bumblebee moth defending itself by appearing as a threatening creature, while probably tasting like turkey to a feline or canine? Hell, it even flys like a bee. Speaking of turkeys. Saw what looked like a drove of vultures picking at a deer carcass on the side of the road. Must have been the turkey variety since I'm not in Arizona. I also took a few snapshots of bears resorting to a raid on our bird feeder. I'm not so impressed by bears. They look to me like overweight dogs. In Milwaukee the wildlife consists of herds of rabbits (Thank you Mr. Fred Rogers for clearing up the term 'herd' when referring to rabbits. Does that mean there can be a stampede of rabbits?), swarms of pidgeons and gulls... But I came across a possum scared out of it's mind and cowering between the pillars of the dormitory building. I shared the frightened creature with an acquaintance I picked up from finding out that a good friend of mine in grade school is his older cousin. He had only to add when I had the idea to make stew, "Nah, they're really greasy."

So why do creatures evolve clever camouflage, bizarre weaponry, flashy rituals, and physics-defying modes of transportation? I suppose if all species differed only in size and resembled one another, as if all animals looked and behaved like the homo sapien, there'd be even more confilcting views on carnivorousness, it would take a lot of trial and error to reproduce, and statutory rape would deadlock the courts... and there's always the beastiality issue. In any case, I have returned from a cigarette outside and saw a bat. And like the winged rodent that I am, I use my sonic abilities, and fade in to the night.

the number three exists only in our imaginations, naturally, four should follow two, it complies with logic, only because we recall the existence of one once two is realized can we mind the number three and experience three-dimensional conciousness

3 dimensions to space: height width depth

sides to a triangle: trigonometry being the first complex geometric math discipline

pi: 3.14

primary color frequency ranges to visible light: red green blue

main components to atoms: proton neutron electron

basic states of matter: solid liquid gas

states of conceivable time: past present future

3 orbits from the sun: our earth

states of living and non living: animal vegetable mineral

races of people

members of the biblical trinity

based numbering system (zero through 3 squared)

stung by a bee in the dead of night (rehearsal #3)

Okay, Blogger.com is starting to anger me.

Flanked by beer bottles, a 32 oz. Old Milwaukee stands out among the city of brown glass and is attracting most of my attention. I find myself socially drunk by myself for the 4th night in a row. I have the chat windows open, but none seem to be flashing. As the night rolls further on into solitude, the night becomes more and more alcoholic. I suspect my family of planning an organized intervention concerning my foul habits. Fitting that as I type this, Merle Haggard drawls from my stereo with, "I've got no reason to quit."

I'm back from the school machine. My grades were delivered today. I am hanging on to a 3 point by the ridges on my teeth. It's enough to participate in the peer mentoring program next year. TheSpark.com's personality test pegged me as a mentor, and I plan to pad my resume with it. What do I miss most about school? The dormitory urinals. I should mention Rob, with whom I've witnessed the break of dawn high on makeshift espresso more times than I can punch into my TI-89.

Will I ever get around to what I am try to say? Around I go. What you see before you is fictionfiction.net version 4.0, as you will not see it referred to anywhere. Fictionfiction.net began as a receptacle for web-bound authors to submit their works, as well as reviews of anything at all, for display. Turns out it is free and easy to get personal space on the web. Competing against a galaxy of home-brewed literature sites, fictionfiction.net fell into terminal disuse. Hence, 'the new' fictionfiction.net was born, featuring fun. Having since denounced fun, fictionfiction 2 existed for a few days, and resembled nothing more than a blogger page. Figuring an actual blogger page was more appropriate, you see before you what you see now. The new site is basically an archive of past achievements with an updated mp3 catalog and writings by george k george (me). I won't brag about how easy it was to create this site in 4 days, like I did in the other two rehearsals. But it was easy. Believe me.

Living with the mom is cushy so far, but I long to be back in the dirty city. I can't get enough of my mom, though. Let me start from the beginning. I was viewing some pornography the other night on the family's computer. Not moved to auto-eroticism, like some easily are. Yeah, I'm talking about you, Mary Kay. Being the considerate son I am, I cleared the temporary file cache and history index. The next morning my mom wonders why she can't access her bank account records on associatedbank.com by typing simply, 'www.ass' Ass! The autocomplete list was blank. Jesus only knows what might have come up in the address bar had the history not been cleared.

Ideas for topics of fiction are arriving like butterflies. Just need to squash the moths and asphyxiate the monarchs for pinning. With the vulgar praise of my mutual muse, the words have been falling like world leaders under the current administration. I have been published most recently in MSOE's annual verse/fiction/prose booklet. Should have the link to the *.pdf file pertaining to it shortly. Surprisingly enough, a select few engineering students have what it takes. As pretentious as could be, I signed a few random hard copies laying around the Campus Center. The graveyard should be the most updated page on the site. Check it if you feel.

I have pounded every nugget onion paper thin. I suppose I'll sit back and let the sick and tired catch up with the content and glib of my alcoholic evening. Hasta manzana.

pseudo meta description tag

write, writers, writing, author, authors, read, reading, book, books, authorship, cookie, cookies, school, college, university, universities, porn, pornography, porno, nude, naked, girl, girls, boys, men, man, pbs, public, broadcast, broadcasting, oprah, club, community, television, hitler, germany, cold, war, nuclear, islam, christ, christianity, jesus, buddah, krishnamurti, joseph, campbell, soup, rock, rocknroll, roll, music, weezer, pixies, pixie, sticks, drummer, joe, strummer, coffee, donuts, police, cops, fox, mad, magazine, magazines, gun, guns, clash, pink, floyd, big, audio, dynamite, cuba, cigars, cuban, fidel, castro, jimmy, jim, carter, reagan, bush, ronald, mcdonald's, george, k, kafka, gregor, billy, bragg, wilco, frank, black, white, orange, red, blue, green, sea, ocean, oceans, travel, hawaii, hawii, puerto, rico, suave, cds, cd, tapes, tape, records, record, vinyl, vinyls, stereo, radio, radiohead, head, blow, job, sex, city, cities, twin, minneapolis, denver, baltimore, washington, w, chicago, dallas, san, franciso, los, angles, police, uk, england, blokes, bloke, scotland, ireland, bachelors, masters, degree, associates, associate, bachelor, master, masturbate, breast, disney, mermaid, splash

(January 12, 2003)

the dull roar

I have observed that young women have a certain stamina for maintaining online journals. One that I kept up with for a time was updated an average of 1.25 times a day, usually with several paragraphs of content in each entry. This is much unlike my style. This page isn't exactly an online journal, more of a conglomerate of projects. But I work on a system much like 'found art.' I pick things up off the sidewalk and from the dusty corners of my everyday. When my pockets are full, I write. Occasionally I'll find a shiny nugget to pound into something presentable, but much of it either ends up lost in the laundry or glued shoddily together into an entry like this one.

My brother arrived safely in Zurich, Switzerland today. My sister is excursioning in Argentina, and it makes me think. Anxiety comes mainly from two places these days, exam preparation and reading the headlines when passing by newstands. The world is not such a stable place even here in the 'modern age.' My sister heads for the Southern Hemisphere, and my brother, the mountains of northern Europe--and in a neutral country no less. Do they know something I don't?

(January 30, 2003)

that guy must really have his life together

At home praying before meals has always been the thing done when clerical or otherwise pious houseguests were present. In fact, among new guests, there is usually an awkward pause when no one knows whether to start shoveling or fold their hands in their lap. And it never crossed my mind since leaving home. Though when eating alone, as is most often the case, tonight I witnessed a fellow lone cafeteria patron do something that appeared as bowing his head in a silent grace for a few seconds before starting in on his hot ham and nacho cheese sandwich with side of succotash. I was amazed. What other student would take the time to pay thanks to whom ever he believes is watching him? I'm sure many of the students here were raised in highly religious households, but to practice it right out of high school in the academic and social whirlwind of undergraduate college. I can't help but think that this individual really has his life together. His posture, unless he has some sort of spinal condition, displays the apparent super-organization of his routine as well. His strut is robotic and intentional. He stares rather blankly ahead. He's probably got his school supplies color coded, knows how much is in his checking account, calls his mother regularly, and begins studying for tests more than twenty-four hours before they're given. I envy in moderation this chaps regimen. That is, if I am at all correct in my judgements. My taste for chaos is strong, and if you'd ask my about my Provider, I'd say it's the entity that is not allowing me to upload these entries.