Tag Archives: time travel

My Foot Fell Asleep And It’s Having Those Dreams

11 Jan

 

My Foot Fell Asleep And It’s Having Those Dreams

 

my foot fell asleep

and it’s having those dreams again, where

 

we alphabetized all our typos

and did sex stuff in front of them

 

until the correct spellings came out

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Who Wants To Play The Lake House?

18 Nov

lakehouse

Who Wants To Play The Lake House?

 

They played this game called The Lake House where every day she’d go to the mailbox and find a letter he’d written as if he was writing her from the future and she’d take it inside and he’d ask What ya got there? And she’d smile or shake her head a little bit or scratch her ass and then she’d sit down in the big chair on the other side of the room and read what his past self posing as his future self had to say.

Sometimes the letter would be something simple like You looked pretty that day we fucked in the tool shed 20 minutes from now or While you’re reading this I know we’re about to go sledding but where I am we’ve already sled.

And sometimes the letters would be hopefully prophetic like I portend that you can’t stay mad at me forever or You were correct in insisting that thing I told your mom about being able to buy pot roast at the weed store wasn’t funny. I say stupid shit when your mom makes me mad.

The early letters were filled with optimism and rambled on manifestoes concerning the immortal loyalty of love because that’s how things had been in the beginning. Things weren’t like that anymore. Lately his letters from the future appeared less frequently and when they did show up they seemed a bit more nihilistic or pissed off or sad. These days she found the whole thing exhausting. Some days she wouldn’t open them and other days she’d avoid the goddamn mailbox altogether but this day she’d been drinking a bottle of wine that’d been corked on her brand new secret boyfriend’s vineyard in Napa. Well. He didn’t own the vineyard but he did live next to it. Twenty miles down the road or so. Or however that goes. The point being: on this day, she opened the Lake House letter that he’d hand delivered to her mailbox from his make believe future. Because she was about to leave him, anyway. And also she was drunk.

As she stood beside the big chair reading he sat on the couch watching his reflection on the fish tank, him watching himself watching Shai LeBeouf watching himself watch himself on a live 72 hour fucked stream. It wasn’t important. This would not put a dent in things. Their loneliness stank like glue.

Today’s Lake House letter started out proper enough:

 

Dear Helen,

 

We’re doomed?

 

This was a question. I’m sorry. Let’s move on to something that isn’t. I live in the future and am supposed to have answers. So I’d like to make sure to set this straight. Charlie Sheen doesn’t have aids, America. Aids has Charlie Sheen. Not just the HIvCharlie virus. We’re talking full blown Charlie Sheen! Which is terrible. It almost makes you feel bad for aids.

Back in your time 7000 people died in America every day from various causes. Total. Out here in the future 7,000 people die every hour from improperly worded tweeting. (Yes, we have retained some sense of justice) Still, 95% of the population spends 30% of their time pissing around on the internet looking for things to outage them so they can spend another 55% of their time screaming on social media about how unfair the goddamn world is because something just pissed them off. Outside my window an old woman just stabbed a baby in the neck because it was already the middle of November and this baby had had the goddamn balls to wear a red onesy that said “I Heart Grandma” instead of “Merry Christmas” or whatever the hell the old woman had thought it should respectfully say.

It’s a madhouse everywhere. In our future Facts have been rounded up, forced to live out the rest of their feverishly shortened lives in mud puddle infected camps. Love has been forced out into the streets where it’s inevitably come down with a harsh case of the Charlie Sheen. For a time the disease was kept in check with daily doses of Denise Richards but last night the Denise Richards ran out so it’s only a matter of time now. The Westboro Baptist Church is busy misspelling picket signs in preparation for Love’s funeral as we speak. Or as I write this. Whichever comes first.

Are you still not talking to me for some goddamn reason where you are tonight? I can’t remember at this point in our everything, which days you weren’t talking to me and which days you just stopped being around. Ever since that case of wine mysteriously arrived you’ve been distant and mean.

But hell, every day in the future 7 billion people appear distant and the rest of the goddamn overpopulated population are just flat out mean. But you were doing both of those things simultaneously long before this Helen, so it’s almost like you invented it. Do you feel like a fucking trendsetter tonight? Everyone’s doing what you’ve been doing for a while now Helen. So, congratulations. You’re like the Jimi Hendrix of being distant and mean.

Helen, your eyes are like padlocks and your face is a sad locker and your combination isn’t mine to remember anymore. But I do it anyway, damn it Helen. I remember. There are still nights when I wish I could stash my gym bag in your forehead and run in circles until you smiled but we both know that’s not going to happen because your sadness is fucking stubborn and I’m no good at working out.

At this point she stopped reading his Lake House Letter and told him she was tired of being his Sandra Bullock so she was leaving. She didn’t mention anything about the fuckhead in Napa. When she left, she took the lake with her. And the mailbox. Leaving him alone in the internet connected silence of Shia LaBeouf watching himself like a fireplace in a lakeless house, alone and outgunned by an army of Youtube videos, a litter box full of cats, and gloom.

 

 

 

written for last night’s FBomb, Mercury Cafe, Denver CO

Things I Learned While Watching: Back To The Future 2 on October 19, 2015

21 Oct

Back-To-The-Future-II

Things I Learned While Watching: Back To The Future 2 on October 19, 2015

Fbombers,

We’re only a subject-able matter of hours away from the arrival of Marty and Doc and an occasionally conscious version of Elizabeth Shue. She plays Marty’s girlfriend/2015 mother of their kids in Back To The Future 2, but in the 1st movie that role was played by Claudia Wells, which really confused me when I watched these things in the 80’s as a kid. I hadn’t been divorced twice yet like I am now, so I didn’t get it.

In 1985 I thought people were irreplaceable. If you loved somebody you always loved them and when somebody loved you they always loved you. That’s how I thought it worked. I didn’t understand that somebody who loves you can actually stop loving you and instead of loving they can get downright sick of you to the point where their sickness becomes reactionary and decides to replace you with somebody else. In the 1st movie MJF loved Claudia Wells. Everybody knows that! All he wanted to do in that first one was: not fuck his mom, avoid fading away into non-existence, play Eddie Van Halen licks at the prom, and get back to 1985 so he could take Claudia to the dance in his new monster truck. Those were his goals.

But something happened between parts 1 and 2 and all of a sudden MJF isn’t taking Claudia to the dance anymore. He’s taking Elizabeth Shue. And everyone involved just went around acting like everything was business as usual. Claudia’s absence isn’t acknowledged. They just fucking replaced the shit out of her and we’re just supposed to accept it? Why?! Because Elizabeth Shue’s wearing the same white shirt/blue sweater combo that Claudia’d last been seen wearing and Shue’s got Claudia Wells 1980’s teen mom hair and Marty calls her Jennifer like he called Claudia Jennifer? Jennifer was Marty’s nickname for Claudia Wells. Not Elizabeth Shue’s! You can’t have the same nickname for two different girls! Everyone knows that! Everyone knows that Elizabeth Shue’s nickname is Adventures In Babysitting. Or Pudding. Don’t Google it! Just, shut the fuck up! Everyone knows this!

So 1985 me didn’t get it. MJF loved Claudia! But now he loves Elizabeth Shue?! Elizabeth Shue’s great and all, I mean I loved E S back then so it wasn’t that I thought she was unlovable it was just that MJF wasn’t supposed to love her because he was supposed to love Claudia because we’d already seen him love her at the end of the 1st fucking movie! But here we are at the very beginning of part 2, which is basically the exact scene from the end of the first movie played out again, but now instead of loving Claudia like we were used to he’s just, fuck, he’s loving Elizabeth Shue?!

My 1985 self could not accept this. But this 2015 version of me unfortunately gets it. Love is transferable and people get replaced because of it. That’s how it is, right? Is that how shit works now, Helen?! Shit works that way?! Well that’s just terrible! Right?! That’s how it works now?! Shit!

Helen, you made a cock ring, out of a Delorean?! That wasn’t fair. How am I supposed to fit a Delorean around my dick?! What do you mean you didn’t make it for my dick?! Who’s dick did you make it for?! That guy’s dick?! Are you serious?! That guy can’t even play an F chord! How the fuck’s he expect to play guitar at the prom and save the world if he can’t even play a proper F chord?! You went and gave your Delorean to that guy?! His dick gets terrible gas mileage! No I don’t know that for a fact. But I believe it. And applying today’s Republican Presidential Campaign logic, if you believe it, that makes it true!

Anyway…………..Marty and Jennifer’s kids look exactly like MJF. It’s like they’ve got zero Shue in them. They’re simply flat out doppleganged versions of Fox. Which poses the question: does this mean that their kids will get Parkinsons too? And if yes, maybe Doc can invent a cure using old banana peels and the backwash left in the bottom of beer cans and a borrowed sample of Claudia Well’s stool. And if he can do that maybe he could go back and cure MJF too. The ripple effects of such things could be astronomical. If Doc cured his Parkinsons MJF wouldn’t have had to leave Spin City. Which means Charlie Sheen would’ve never been brought in to replace him and maybe if that never happened Sheen would’ve never become the overpaid sitcom actor that he became and if he never became overpaid he wouldn’t have been able to afford all that cocaine and if he couldn’t afford cocaine maybe that poor porn star would’ve never ended up locked in his closet and if that never happened maybe all that time she spent in Charlie Sheen’s closet, maybe she would’ve spent that time more productively. Maybe she’d have spent the time sorting her life out. Or volunteering at an abused animal store. Maybe she would’ve decided to go back to school to get her massage therapy degree. Maybe she would’ve become a famous massage therapist and used her skills to fix an old scientist’s bad shoulder, and with that shoulder maybe the scientist would’ve went on to invent a cure for World War 3!

Ripples, Helen. Goddamn it. It all goes back to ripples.

And on the subject of ripples,

Fun Fact: For a little while there I was sorta almost related to Christopher Loyd. He was my Step-Uncle-In-Law, or something like that. Like I was once married to Helen, Christopher Loyd was once married to Helen’s Aunt. And like my marriage to Helen bombed at the box office, his marriage to Helen’s Aunt ended in sequel-less disappointment too.

They were already divorced by the time I married Helen but I met the Aunt at our wedding. On August 16, 2003 she lived an extravagant life as a New York City socialite, her lifestyle funded by alimony payments that she received from The Doc. For our wedding gift she wrote us a check and the check had her name on it and I noticed she was still using the Doc’s last name even though they were divorced and she was still using his money even though they were divorced so it was almost like Christopher Loyd had given me a wedding present because the cash, however briefly, had at one point belonged to him. A recent royalty check from Taxi maybe. Or maybe the cash had been pulled from his Back to The Future 2 savings. I don’t know.

All I know is that at the time I thanked Helen’s Aunt for the money but the whole time I was thanking her what I was really doing was thinking stuff like “Wow, this is weird. She’s shaking my hand with the same hand that most likely at one point in the days when she still loved him madly had been used to palm Christopher Loyd’s manhood, which means right now at this very moment I’m only five fingers and 2 degrees separated from Christopher Loyd’s dick.”

postscript: With Christopher Loyd’s money I bought a jug of Canadian Mist and a brown leather jacket. The whiskey’s gone now, me and Helen drank it. But I’ve still got that fucking jacket.

Last night I was fucked up and writing jokes about Helen Keller’s clit. At some point I stopped and thought, is this wrong? Is it wrong to write jokes about Helen Keller’s clit. And then because her name’s Helen, I started thinking about Helen and that night she called me chicken. Don’t call me chicken, Helen! You know how much I don’t hate that but MJF hate’s it so tonight I hate it too! Don’t call me chicken! When you told me you didn’t love me anymore that was our chicken. The way Marty loses his mind when someone calls him chicken, I lost my mind like that when Helen told me she didn’t love me. But I don’t take it personally anymore, Helen! I’m over that, Pudding! Fuck that. I don’t take it personally. It took me.

Here’s something that also pisses me off: I was only a few years younger than Marty was in the first movie and I’m only a few years younger than Marty is in 2015 so when I watched Back To The Future 2 tonight, naturally I got a little pissed. What’s up with that crazy old people makeup?! They look like shit. And they’re basically supposed to be my age and I mean, fuck, do I look like that? I’d like to think I’ve aged better than that. It’s like in 1989 everyone walked around thinking that people in their mid forties in 2015 were gonna look like they were 60. I don’t look 60, do I Helen? Wait. Don’t answer that. You don’t know what I look like. I look great goddamn it, Helen! I look great! I’m almost got abs you know. In the proper light with my shirt off you can almost see one! Yes, one. Maybe I don’t have abs exactly. But I’ve got an ab, at the very least of it. I’ve aged better than MJF anyway. That’s all I’m saying. I’ve got ab, Helen. So you know, suck it.

Helen probably isn’t watching Back To The Future 2 right now. She’s probably watching her weight or her boyfriend’s mad attempts to mount her with his dick wrapped in used Delorean or Ted 2.

There are no owls in Back To The Future 2, but maybe there should be. Owls don’t need hover boards in order to avoid the bullying of hoodlums. Owls don’t frown at anal. Owls can tell the goddamn difference between Claudia Wells and Elizabeth Shue.

(written for last night’s F Bomb reading at the Mercury Cafe, Denver CO)

Me Too Night at Love Shovel Ranch Poem

17 Jul

witness1

Me Too Night at Love Shovel Ranch Poem

for Jonathan Montgomery, inventor of Me Too Poetics, Marcus If, inventor of Love Shovel Ranch, and Jewel

 

Reality makes no sense to me!

Nothingness is just another shit bar

Death is a bad pick up line

 

I’m sorry about damn near everything!

 

I walk out the door most days

as if the morning was a goddamn arctic sled race

and somebody’s just murdered all my dogs

 

I’m always alone!

 

I find it almost impossible to talk to women I want to sleep with

and I find it almost more impossible to talk to the women I don’t

 

I haven’t slept in years!

 

and when I do sleep

I wake up every 45 minutes

because everything I’ve ever lost

haunts me and post all this leaving

I’m so goddamned broken

I find it impossible

to accept other people’s love

 

I watch people in love

like I’m watching a big budget

dinosaur movie that’s lost

its 3rd act

there’s no happy ending in which

some of the characters

make it through

to the end

 

everything’s pre and post shoe drop

the dangerous set up

followed by an endless

digital film parade

of chaos and extinct

monsters devouring everything individually

and prehistorical butt plugs

and rage-y type doom

 

I feel like my atoms

are held together with

dollar store duct tape

every time I’m required

to socialize

 

I’m so fucking lost!

 

the other day

I watched a bus leave a bird

behind at a bus stop because the bird

didn’t have correct change

or maybe it had change

but couldn’t carry it to the bus stop

 

in which case the bus left the bird

because it didn’t have pockets

 

and that’s a horrible reason

to leave something

 

but still a better reason

than most of us are given

 

we are

the pocket lonely

and left

 

I’ve never fucked

a ferris wheel

and this morning

I have to admit:

I regret this

 

Back in high school I once fooled around

with an older girl who went to Ferris College

but that’s not really the same thing

 

unless fucking a ferris wheel

is like making out with a girl who’d

just won first place in the college lip syncing contest

for looking exactly like the lead singer from Vixen

 

I’m so fucking pathetic!

 

When Tundji left town

he gave me all his porn

a small box of dvds

 

but when I watched it

it felt weird

jerking off to porn that Tundji’d

already jerked off to

 

it felt weird

like Marty McFly traveling all the way back in time

just to make out with his mom in Back To The Future

 

but in the end

I jerked off anyway

it was weird, but I jerked off

because what else

are we supposed to

do?

 

Last night I had a dream

I went to a football game

in the 1990’s

and ended up hanging out

with Mick Jagger

 

and we got drunk

and he promised to publish

my new novel

 

but then he sort of got distracted

by this enormous indoor tire swing

and I stood there thinking

 

gosh, his purple shirt is so shiny

and he seems to be enjoying that tire swing

so much

he’s probably already forgotten every promise

he’s ever said to me

 

I can’t compete with a tire swing

So,

So much for my book

 

The other night I was watching the movie

Interstellar for the 39th time

and I couldn’t stop thinking

It’s so unfair

nobody ever pays attention

to the kid in the movie

who grows up to be Casey Affleck

 

and I thought, Helen

 

her love was like that,

she loved me as if I were a child

pretending to be a younger version

of Casey Affleck

 

and I felt so sad! So sat that

I was sitting around on my couch the other day

and for ten solid minutes I couldn’t get it out

of my head, Nobody says butt fuck anymore

 

or if they do, I ain’t hearing it

when we were kids

we said butt fuck all the time

not because we knew what it meant, but

because it was fun to say

 

Butt fuck! Helen! Butt fuck!

 

I’m so fucking divorced right now!

 

I still remember when Helen had left

to think things over for a couple months

and she eventually called me from the east coast

and told me she wanted a divorce

 

I totally Han Solo’d her

unplanned and spontaneous

voice calm as hell

 

Helen: I want a divorce.

Me: I know.

 

It seemed like the only 2 words

in the world at the time

The only proper response

 

I’m so fucking anti-social!

 

I’ve gone four day in a row

where the only person I talked to

the entire time was the bartender

at Chilis

 

I’m so fucking hungry!

 

If you’d have told my 17yr old hopeless romantic

and clean faced self

that he’d turn into a middle aged

bearded hermit afraid of love

 

he would’ve told you

to go fuck yourself

 

but when you tell Jewel the same news

she’s way more polite about it

 

Heartbreak!

taking the dick out of Emily Dickenson

for shit, almost 40 years

 

love is a log cabin

and when they leave

they take all the logs

 

I was sitting at the Outback

the other day writing

and a pretty lady came over

and started to talk to me

and her boobs were perfect

the way the movie Mad Max Fury Road was perfect

the only difference being Fury Road

was one movie

and in the case of her boobs

there were two

 

and I could tell that she was into me maybe

but I’m so fucking bad at picking up women

right now that the only thing I could think

to say to her was:

Talking to you right now is really depressing me.

 

so I said it

and of course

she left

 

I’m so fucking confused!

 

I was in Walmart this morning

and they were selling Amish Potato Salad

and I was like, what the fuck is Amish Potato Salad?

 

and then I thought who cares and started making up

advertising catch phrases in my head

for Amish Potato salad because when you’re alone

most of the time you have to find various ways

to pass the time and entertain yourself

 

instead of having a girlfriend

I invent slogans for Amish Potato salad

like Amish Potato Salad:

this potato salad

is not a fan of electricity

or the way Harrison Ford is looking

at that young boy’s mom

 

 

(postscript)

 

I was at the Lafayette Chilis again around 5:10 p.m. on a Wednesday

sitting at the bar and this woman walked in

 

and she was pretty and she sat next to me

exactly in that order

 

I was waiting for a black bean burger

to go and someone to love me

 

She was picking up food to go too

 

She paid with her credit card

just like I’d paid with my credit card

we had so much in common!

 

until our to go orders

showed up at the same time

her bag was enormous

and obviously filled with

food for herself and

somebody else

probably her boyfriend

 

and my tiny plastic

bag the size of one

solo veggie burger

obviously enunciated

that I was alone

 

Her bag screamed:

 

I’m in a committed relationship

We eat Chilis to go together once a week

and have sex in between the 3rd and 4th commercial break

of America’s Got Talent every Wednesday night

 

My bag screamed:

 

I have loved deeper than space time and continuums

but now I’m obviously

broken and alone

 

 

 

(for more about Jonathan Montgomery and Me Too poetics visit jonathan-montgomery.com
for more about Love Shovel Ranch visit Love Shovel Ranch. or go to their website loveshovelranch.com
for more about Jewel visit Idon’tReallyKnowJewel)

14 Things I Learned While Watching: The Lake House

16 Feb

the-lake-house-movie-poster-2006-1020371403

14 Things I Learned While Watching: The Lake House

  1. The Plot: An architect (Keanu Reeves) living in the year 2004 falls in love with a doctor (Sandra Bullock) from the future (2006) with the help of a magic mailbox (played by Andy Serkis).
  1. Andy Serkis is great as The Mailbox. You wouldn’t think a mailbox could pull off more convincing facial expression than a human being. But it can, if that mailbox is a mailbox, and that human being is Keanu Reeves.
  1. The Mailbox in The Lake House is owned by Skynet. That’s how it’s capable of transporting mail through time from one year to another. The U.S. postal service salvaged the metal leftovers of the first Terminator from The Terminator, and then using the metal bits that had previously been used to make Arnold Swarzenager’s man-rack, they made a mailbox. And then they sold it to Keanu Reeves father, and shortly after that the mailbox found itself nailed to a post in front of the lake house.
  1. The world of The Lake House is a world in which we’re expected to believe that it’s possible for a lady to fall in love by reading a bunch of letters written by Keanu Reeves. Which is fucked. This movie was released in 2006, the same year Sandra Bullock’s character lives in. She could’ve warned Keanu to warn the movie studio or something. She could’ve sent a letter back to 2004 that said “Dear Warner Brothers, I’ve seen the future and it’s horrible! If you want this movie to be anywhere near relatable you’ve got to either ditch Keanu or change the magic powers of the mailbox. I don’t know what pisses me off most, Keanu’s letters or his toneless goddamn voice over reading of them. If we keep Keanu, we can’t have my character falling in love with his fucking letters. It won’t work. Forget it. Can we turn the mailbox into some sort of time barrier breaking two way mirror? That way at least I’d know straight up how cute he was. Or maybe he can send me DVD movies of himself doing sit ups. That could work too……”
  1. Fuck the out of control ocean liner version of Speed 2. The Lake House is the real sequel to Speed . You can’t tell by watching the version of the film that was actually shot, but there’s probably a first draft around somewhere that has all the really cool Speed 1 characters and mythology still intact, but then the studio probably pulled a Prometheus and hired Damon Lindelof to do a final rewrite in which he yanked all the stuff related to Speed right the hell out. The original screenplay for The Lake House was probably filled with xenomorphs named after Dennis Hopper, close ups of out of control speedometers, and lots of busses. Lindelof would’ve replaced that shit with a stray dog, blueprints, and an unnecessary sub-plot about Keanu’s shitty relationship with his dad.
  1. Keanu’s jeans in this movie are blue in order to best represent his feelings. It helps the audience to understand his emotional status when he makes that face that he makes, because when he makes the face while he’s wearing blue jeans you get the sense that he’s sad about something, but when he makes the face in other things, say brown slacks, it looks like he’s just remembered that he really wants a big pretzel but he can’t remember how to get to the mall.
  1. It’s romantic. They take walks together even though they’re 2 years apart. They eat at the same table in restaurants even though they can’t see each other. They jerk off in the same corner of the lake house while pretending they’re not 2 years away from each other. They pretend that they’re standing in the same room, at the same time, jerking off together when in reality 2004 Sandra Bullock doesn’t give a shit about what 2004 Keanu’s doing, she’s just a doctor doing her doctor duties and he’s just another guy in 2004 jerking off. (note: 2 years after the jerking, Keanu looks at his watch when the right time comes and he smiles. Mumbles ‘You like that, don’t you doc.’, high fives his own Budweiser, and then goes back to staring at the goddamn lake.)
  1. Back of DVD box describes this movie as ‘a love that transcends time’, like 2 years is such an impossible time span for love to exist through. This goddamn DVD box. It reads suspiciously as if it’d been written by Helen.
  1. But which Helen? The Helen from 2004 who appeared madly in love with me, or the Helen from 2006, a creature gorged ornery by extended monogamy and caged rent payments and had already started taking long trips back to New York without me, where she’d bring Ryan Adams concert shirts back for me and I could already feel the leaving, that we were through…..
  1. For a long stretch of the movie Keanu can’t win. He plants a goddamn tree for Sandra Bullock beside the hospital because she told him she liked hospitals but missed trees and then 2 years later she’s already kissing another man underneath it.
  1. Sandra Bullock=high maintenance. They agree to meet in the future at a nice restaurant and Keanu Reeves stands her up because he’s dead and Sandra Bullock still gets pissed off
  1. Fuck Jane Austen. The only thing more ruffling than listening to somebody talk about how much they love Jane Austen is listening to Sandra Bullock talking to Keanu about how much she loves Jane Austen.
  1. 2002. 2004. Different years, same regime. They’re both living it out inside that first or second term of the Bush Administration. You’d think Bullock would at some point warn him, you know, “oh heads up Keanu, that dumb bought-out prick we thought had no chance of being reelected will be reelected. No, not that dumb bought-out prick. The other prick. No, he’s not running. He’s just one of the masks you starred with in Point Break. No, that guy’s not even a politician, that’s your dentist. What do you mean you “don’t really know politics?”?! Who did you vote for, you mono-toned bass-playing piece of shit?! Who did you vote for?!”
  1. “Buttons aren’t toys.”. (Wait, that’s not The Lake House. That’s something I learned while watching The Hitchhiker’s Guide……)