Smoker

I can’t really feel the cold anymore. My mind is on other things. Red lips, blue smoke, white snow, black sky. She takes another drag, blows another cloud at the streetlights. The sickly yellow glow is temporarily obscured by a haze of expelled chemicals. We’re talking about the play, about her dog, about the city. The smell hasn’t bothered me in years. It used to sting my eyes, make me sneeze, make my ears pop, but now it just reminds me of people I love. She finishes, blows out the final twisting blue serpent. My fingertips are black with grease and dust from the mechanisms, hers faintly orange from the nicotine and tar. They curl together, and she leans in close to me. I can taste lipstick and tobacco. Walking down the road, headed nowhere, everything is right. I can feel Death, closer to her than me, but for now, the only thing I care about is our lives. And for now, our lives are better than they’ve ever been.

Zombies

Consider with me, if you will: The Zombie Apocalypse. The Zombocalypse. Particularly the picture of it painted by Left 4 Dead. The survivors featured in that game are as follows: 'Nam vet, crazy biker, poor lucky schmuck, and cute college girl who watches horror movies.

Playing hours of Left 4 Dead has led me to realize the following: Most of the Zombocalypse survivors are going to be people like this. Nerds who've been trained by Resident Evil and Dawn of the Dead, or mostly crazy people with gun skills, with a few lucky schmucks for good measure. This is fortunate for people such as David and myself, because as nerds, we will survive, and most of the surviving girls will also be nerds. Because most of humanity has been wiped out, there are less dicks around to snatch up those nerdy girls. Our comedic prowess will help take their minds off of the horror of a dead world, and they will adore us for it.

What I'm trying to say is, after the Zombocalypse, we will get ALL OF ZE GARLS.

Addiction

I want to hate Half-Life 2. The jumping puzzles, the wonky physics, the frustrating vehicles, they all serve to make me want to never deal with that game again. But then it pulls something awesome like giving me command of an insect army to lead an assault on an abandoned prison to free the leader of the human resistance, and it's SO. DAMN. AWESOME. that I end up awake at 4 AM still running and gunning and doing that damned jumping puzzles.

Curse you, Valve, and the hold you have on my soul.

eggs

Sometimes, I think to myself that hardboiled eggs aren't worth the effort it takes to eat them. Then I eat one and remember i need to stop being such a goddamn bitch and peel another egg.

Bad Taste

It tastes a little bit like month-old teriyaki. I want to spit it out, but I can't, because that would be a waste. Still, I can't wrap my mind around swallowing it either, so it sits in my mouth, foul and slimy, waiting for my next move. It's the first time my food has stared me down. My face srcews up in a grimace, my throat and tongue work furiously, and I finally swallow it down. I have to get an english muffin to deal with the taste left in my mouth. That was the worst jerky ever.

Bury my heart in New York City

And my brain beneath Fulmer Hall.

And my spleen near the Big Easy.

And my liver in Ireland.

And my kidneys at the SciFi Museum.

And my small intestine next to Walt Disney's frozen head.

That should freak him out when he thaws.

Haven't been posting lately because of finals. Give it another week or so and I'll be going strong.