That sound of thunder?

BISON MEAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.

So. Cless has two choices here. He can terminally compete with this chap to the bitter end. Or.... he can burry him now. Right where he stands.

"well, that seems like an easy one". He says even to just himself. He even has a laugh.

So. He stalks. If only for a few seconds. Down the steps and to the butcher's room.

There's his prey . How did he become so sadistic so soon?

This is a game of logistics. We simply can't have a fair showing. Tbis is business after all.

Jordan stood there under the hums of the fan. Just perusing the morning's stats. Cless imagines his other options. How else could he commit this original sin?

By smashing Jordan's head into a waffle iron set on high? That'd be too much time for a struggle. We're trying to get back to the office before anyone ssee's we're out.

The shadows are on your side . So Cless moves in on the doorway, its wide open after all.

"HEY YOU!"

THWAAK

CLess pounds the deba deep into the back of Jordan's neck. Just between the shoulders. We could call it a perfect first attempt.

"what the faaauuugggghh" Jordan doubled over onto the cool counter and released some gushing blood. Holding onto his neck for some reassurance, he's still alive after all.

"Gimme back my knife, "

Cless grabbed the handle of the deba and pressed against the oaf's back...He claws the blade out with a crunch.


"now you're out!!"

Jordan flops over onto the nearby table and slowly lowers himself on the floor. It's looking pretty uncomfortable.

huh?

"So, what can touch you?
It's been a great few days of sleeping in and you've had lots of agreeable food to eat. At least the world isn't asking you to fire on a tired and empty stomach.

Let's see what you can do..."

"i don't get it, how does the rest of the world work this way?" Cless wonders aloud. "I mean, if i don't turn up, if i'm late or if i just don't have the goods, its pretty much disaster. Like...I'm not gonna be sleeping it off..."

"huh?" Feb looks like he's drinking a cappuccino. But Cless's eyes aren't registering any signs of life in his 'friend'.

"Sorry to get so technical with you." Cless is intent on having a good morning, so he's got to brush this shit aside.

"Surrender, bitch." Feb swiped a cuff across the warm milk-stache' formed across his upper lip. "No one gives a fuck about your schedule and how demanding you THINK things are."

"Say the words...and words become flesh..." Cless knew he was right.

"This is how the military feel right? Elitism because of circumstances? They chill around in uniform because they feel elevated by the stress they're put under?" . "No, wait. you can't even joke about that. stricken from the record. And what do you know about the military?!"

"Still beats the alternative..." Cless made a little motion to the remnants of the milk stache'. "Absolute crap."

They peered out on broadway, anxious to get just a little tan. Their problems seems so far apart. I mean , on one side you have a desk jockey, and on the other; a self-contained pugilist. Only attached by a common history.

But the attetion on the free fifteen minutes would shift on a dime.

"HOLY SHIT! Look!" Feb pointed down the avenue. An old ranger pops the curb a few blocks down and rams into a stopped Explorer. Fords made to meet.

"Just don't leave anything in your car.."

"I know, i know...I think because of how old the car is, people are going to be over it.."

"That's got nothing to do with it, they did it to my rear window, and that was eight-hundred dollars to replace..a vintage piece of glass."

Quick exchange of nods and we split. Seems like simple info I'd get from any pal.

How retarded to not have listened , but i think the scene was pretty dreamy, thats why i recall it here.

I saw my window broken under a street lamp. Plenty of washed out sidewalk, still raining as i took in all the broken glass.

The upstairs neighbors across the street apparently saw most of the action. He could only point me in the direction of the vandal.

Still don't get why i didn't lose any irreplaceable items, my bag was just getting soaked next to the curb when i found it. I figured i was going to have to give a little pursuit and potentially gut someone.

Ahh its time to relax again.

I guess the good celebrities do die in 3's?

hard to believe this was only summer 2015

To kick off 2016 -- The motorHead dude Lemmy died, David bowie dies, and the guy who played Hans Gruber in Die Hard is dead.

I'm most broken up about David Bowie dying. I always felt like his songs were tailored just for me, and I got to listen to most of them free of charge!

Sound and Vision?

Gets me all choked up and teary thinking about it.

I miss em' heaps already.

That.... and I miss my fucking long flowy hair . It sucks and hurts that i have to sell out to hold my position and keep my tenure for as long as I can. I knew how it was going to work when i signed up, but it doesn't make it any easier/less sad to shed old personas.

I try not to take any of this too seriously. But those are some my fondest memories of me.  Times where i wasn't at total odds.  When; how i felt, spoke, acted, and looked all lined up.

I was like a metrosexual-shredding-chef .  Thats exactly where i wanted to be at the time.
Shouts to David Bowie for doing this all years before and helping me feel endeared by people who didn't grasp the picket-fenced ideal of masculinity.

Only tea can help.

Guess those are the two options at the end of a busy day. Which do you decide you deserve tonight? Tea or chartreuse?

I'm sorry if i was being a jerk earlier. All you guys deserve better.
It's a hearty symptom of humanity to be unsatisfied at different levels isn't it?

That's how i tend to put this issue together. I think: This is natural, and when the dust settles, every human finds a problem with how good things are. They find reasons to upturn graves and issue rebuttals. I'm just lucky enough to have the luxury of sanity, and stupid enough to not realize how good I've got it. But shouldn't i try and fast forward and get to heightened pasteur?

Anyways, thats what this section is for. Just to take a pause and have a silent moment of gratitude.

I feel sad sometimes thinking about the sheer volume that reflects how many times i've been delivered by grace from terrible circumstances.

How many times I've been fished out of the whale's intestine.

How many times I've found the way out.

....And still find a problem with the air around me.

 : )

Sounds of 2015///

Lemme recap the tracks I frequented this year.

January / February:

I had all the Tommy Boy mixes on rotation...those are big complications of discotec Classics....

I only move for money - Xalan
Sparks...
Electric Dredd 

That sorta thing.... just to fill on spaces of time where shuffling wasn't an option. Solid dance beats.

March / Summer

Black Devil Disco Club
Sally Shapiro
Lindstr0m
Spandau Ballet
The Jacka
Skinny Puppy
Loose Shus


For some reason because of my dating situation I was feeling a bit noire. I think it's a handy to have Satan's playlist at your disposal in moments of crisis. God/the Devil seem to have a working relationship that is easy to see.

October /November - December

Tesla Boy
Neon Indian
Pengus + Perfect Science
The Satin Jackets
Body Count
Kool Keith
Phaserland
Sunglasses Kid
Magic Machines

Im sure i could write more here with some time to recount deeply. It was largely because of Tesla Boy's radio show that I caught wind of so many other tracks.
I recall this was a time of jet set travel, drive and flights. The modern stylings of pengus put me through several terminal and gate entries. I felt like an astronaut the whole time. Satin Jackets where the melancholic bittersweet tones that brought me back to ground level and so on.

Styling the morning.

He looked down at the ghastly state of his toenails. He looked further to the soles of his bare feet. None of it was looking particularly hot.

The tension registered in his shoulders.

Jessi could see his refrain. A common one.

"I guess you just make everything a matter of introspection." She said, breaking the brief silence.

"Well, that might be true, but we're all here on a physical level," he said, drawing his feet back into the covers. He didn't know she was awake. "We're not so far into the future that our minds do all the talking. Somewhere along the story, we have to walk the walk , just lookit' professional athletes. They move and think in a pretty proportionate amount. "

She rolled over and gave him a quick jab to the rib with her elbow. Cless could just barely register the gesture she was making. "but not always about themselves..." she said.

"That's what I'm saying, we're only humans". he said, now on all fours and beginning to dress in yesterday's garb. His empathetic systems were flaring. He had overstayed his welcome, at least in his mind.

"Where are you going?" She didn't look too concerned. She lit a cigarette and propped her pale neck with a watched wrist.

"Donut shop, I hear they also do beet juice. You gonna cruise?" He said, jacket collar popped.

She flipped back over so he couldn't see here face, lighting the last cigarette of her pack.

"Just get me something and bring it back....make it a bear-claw".

"Aww man," he thought. "i'm either seriously in the right place, or I've lost it..." , the tension curled to his neck again.

"Get outta here." she said, flipping over to see him off , and smiling an empty smile.