Life Update/Something To Chew On

Dear Readers (Are there any? I don't really advertise this page. At all.),

I know it appears that I haven't written anything in two months. I'm just dropping in to say that's not true. I've begun working on a novel, and that has been taking up most of my writing time. I do not intend to post any of it onto Paperweight Of The World because it is a BIG BIG SECRET that I blab about all the time to anyone who will listen to me. I'll make a post here to let you all know when it's finished. Or maybe I'll call you individually because that would probably be quicker.

In the meanwhile, enjoy this bit of literary diversion that I tossed off while I was bored at work. I call it, "Danger From The Fourteenth Tower!":

We used to be partners at a detective agency. We were both private eyes, but we hit a professional snag when I wanted to become a public eye. I got tired of wrapping myself in eye lids and she dropped me from the agency. Later, she hired a new private, only he was a nose who couldn't shut his mouth to save his face. They solved no crimes.

Guided Tour Of My Arsenal

"This is where I keep my police baton," he told me. James was a proud man.

Initially a hobby, James collected weapons and stored them in a display case in his basement. He built it one summer by himself without anyone's help. He became increasingly paranoid as he neared middle age, worried that the government was taking away his rights as a citizen. At first, I asked what exactly he meant when he suggested the government was taking away his rights, but he would always respond with tangential rhetoric instead of giving me a straight answer. Eventually, I stopped bringing it up.

"Do you know how many nuclear bombs there are in the world?"

"How many?" I asked.

"Over 100,000. We only need about thirty to destroy the planet."

"The planet, or the people who live on it?"

"What's the difference?"

I don't know where he got the figures for that one.

"This is where I keep my grappling hook," he said, pointing.

The interesting thing about James, is that despite all his talk about the government and his rights, he keeps no guns. He keeps mostly the type of weapons that, save for a crossbow, don't require ammunition: axe, samurai sword, spear. He explained to me that guns run out of bullets, and then what do you do? I, of course, had no answer to that. With James, it's better to let him do the talking. Most curious of all, he keeps a lonely cannonball, perched in solitude at the bottom of the display case.

"Are you ever going to get a cannon for your cannonball?" I asked.

"Do you know where I can get one?"

"No."

"Well then I guess I have no idea."

And then he showed me the only item that actually worried me.

"This is where I keep my hand grenade. It works, in case you're wondering."

Of course I was wondering. It's a hand grenade.

"What happens," I asked, "if the grenade gets knocked over, and the pin falls out?"

"How would it get knocked over? It's in a secure case."

"Well, what if there was an earthquake?"

"An earthquake? In Maryland?"

"It's possible."

"No, see, that's where you're wrong. This grenade isn't going anywhere unless I move it, and personally remove the pin."

When I asked him if he had experience removing a pin from a grenade, he demurred. He had never fought in any war, and I watched him as the gears turned in his mind, trying to fabricate a story about where he learned how to use a grenade. His answer involved a trip to Germany where he befriended a military officer named Wilhelm, who was present when they tore down the Berlin Wall. Wilhelm, he told me, made the suggestion to use explosives to tear the Wall down quicker, and he offered his personal stash of grenades to all the East German people who were using slow, slow hammers and crowbars. After hearing Wilhelm's story, James asked if he had anymore grenades in his stash. He did, and the rest is history...

"In fact, he's the one who gave me this hammer," James told me, matter-of-factly.

As much as I'm able to share the excitement with him every time he shows me his collection, I can't help but worry that his slipping mind will one day get him into trouble. What if he sees a snake in the backyard, and tries to kill it with his scythe? Or his grenade? What will happen to the census worker that stops by his doorstep? What will happen to the guy who has to read his gas meter?

His beady blue eyes looked into mine before he turned to the final item in his arsenal and told me:

"This is where I keep my knife."

Leaning In (A Musing*)

Apparently, nothing can be done to save face after leaning in for a kiss when the other person is not interested. If I lean in to kiss a girl, and she backs away, I can't tell her that I saw a mosquito on her mouth, and I wanted to eat it. She would see right through that.

*According to my dictionary, the word "musing" isn't a noun anymore, only a verb. Once upon a time, though, it was a noun. I have used it as a noun. I hope nobody cares.

Victim Of Letters

***Entrenched and looking for love, I scour the Earth, breaking through my self-imposed guardrails without lifting my feet.***

Today, I look down from upon the highest peak I can reach without hopping a fence. I look, and I judge. I judge, and I yell. I yell, and I cry. I have been the victim of letters before. That is why I threw my mailbox off a cliff. Perhaps I have been forsaken?

If I am so wrong, then how did I get all the way up here? What did I do so right to earn the scorn of everyone, and still manage to maintain an edge?

My heart tells me I am standing in the wrong place. I take an elevator back down the hill -- more of a ski lift, really -- then hop a train out of town. The harsh reality is that my starting point is the most familiar place to me for many miles to come. I drink a can of apple juice, and take an afternoon nap.

They kick me off the train for talking too loud in my sleep, but the joke's on them: Short of one mile, I've reached my destination. I decide to walk the rest of the way. It's a good thing I travel light.

The sun decides to leave the sky for a little while, and the only things keeping me company are a few tumbleweeds and some galloping lizards. They aren't much fun, and they keep asking me if I know Judy. I don't.

I finish the mile and end up where I had meant to. The spot is barren except for a small, lonely cabin. I peek inside. There is a made bed with chocolates on a pillow, and a letter.

The letter is for me:

"Dearest One,

I'm glad you could make it, but it looks like I couldn't. Duty calls. Once again, I'm needed by those who depend on me. Also, I got bored of waiting around in the cabin. Let's meet up soon.

Love,

The Object of Your Desire"

I get tired of these letters.

The Holidays

Eggnog is what I drink when conversation isn't part of the evening.

Natural Disaster

My feet shrink.

I worry about how I will get to the store.

If I take the bus, people will stare at me. Maybe they'll be too busy talking on their phones to notice.

No one will care about the size of my feet in the event of an earthquake.

Brief Opinions On Various Subjects

1. WHALES: I never saw a whale. I know they're really big, but I've never seen one, and I'd probably freak out if I had.

2. ALGEBRA: Fuck algebra. I mean, it's no geometry. Geometry is the branch of mathematics for the brave. Algebra is for losers and single women.

3. CHESS: Bishops don't move diagonally in real life. Why do they move that way in Chess? Although, I once knew a rabbi who could only walk sideways after a motor accident permanently twisted his ankles. We called him "The Crab".

4. PENNIES: Useless.

5. HATS: Some people look good in hats. I'm not one of those people. I hate them (the hats, not the people).

6. DINNER: Dinner is fantastic. It's particularly good for people who like lunch, but wish they could eat it when the moon is out.

7. BUDDHISM: I didn't know Santa Claus had his own sect.

8. GENOCIDE: Never on a first date.

9. THE NUMBER 10: Overrated.

11. BARNACLES: "I hate a barnacle as no man ever did before." -Charles Darwin. Indeed, old friend. Tis one of mine bugbears, as well.