Those five sensations

I can
taste it.
Well, almost.
I can sort of taste the taste of it.
The soft peg-like extensions. The way
they protect me from poison

help me sort out
those five sensations.

It tastes good.
So far. That
safe taste of a taste.

We'll see how much I like
the real thing.

Sidekick Services Now Available at Competitive Rates

We've all noticed that many top Hollywood-type stars have sidekicks.

And yet, it's amazing to me that here in the 21st century, there are still literally dozens of A-listers who wander the streets alone, no shoulder to cry on, no raised hand to high-five. For example: Carrot Top.

I think I'd make a pretty darned good sidekick, and I'd like to take this opportunity to offer my sidekick services at a very reasonable to-be-determined-I'm-sure-we-can-work-something-out price.

Some of the reasons I think I'd make a good sidekick:

1. I have a firm yet unintimidating handshake.
2. I have complete faith in your talent, and I'm prepared to put that in writing.
3. My best side isn't my right side or my left side, but rather a sort of isometric view -- picture me respectfully angled toward you, while you face the cameras. Hunh? Hunh? Nice, hunh?....

Interested top Hollywood-type stars, please contact me at: vortex@mediajunkie.com. And of course, if you're too busy and would like me to contact me for you, that would be fine too.

Who Is Jonathan Coulton?

Coulton's the creative cohort of John Hodgman (author of The Areas of My Expertise). He's also borderline irresponsible. Best known for Flickr, a brilliant song/video written around images found on the image sharing site, Coulton's been putting up a free song a week on his site for, well, a while.

Coulton's music is a little bit folk-Randy Newman, a little bit TMBG. Sometimes it's like Dan Fogelberg, only evil. As high quality, representative samples, may I recommend: Millionaire Girlfriend, Chiron Beta Prime, Soft-Rocked by Me, and Re: Your Brains. But really, there's lots more than that. You can find a big mess of them here.

Probably worth noting that some of these tunes use potty words (specifically: "First of May"), and I haven't yet played them all myself, so who the hell knows what's out there.... But what I've played so far, I'm sort of stunned by. Four monkeys up!

-Cecil

Writers Wanted: Wilmot's Old-Fashioned Mic-less Open Mic

This Saturday night I'll be hosting an old-fashioned mic-less open mic at a great local bookstore – Wilmot's in Alameda (478 Central Avenue, Alameda).

Comestibles will be provided courtesy of a fantastic local Italian restaurant: C'era Una Volta. And a bit of the grape will be poured by my favorite local wineshop: Du Vin Fine Wines.

We'll keep things moving at a brisk yet somehow disturbingly mellow pace, with up to (yet no more than) five minutes per reader – just enough time to give folks a taste and leave them politely requesting more. "But no!" you'll say – "you'll have to wait till next month's Wilmot's Old-Fashioned Mic-less Open Mic!" That'll teach 'em.

• All manner of prose and poetry welcome.
• Sign up at 7 pm; the words begin to fly at 7:15 pm.
• For directions: 510.865.1443.
• For questions, or to sign up ahead of time: vortex@mediajunkie.com

Should be a fun time and I'd love to see ya there, whether to read or just nibble/drink the food/wine and cheer on the writers/readers.

-Cecil

night of gold bugs

Gold, polygonal shapes.

Rectangular bars,
hexagonal prisms,
discs,
truncated octahedrons

with soft fuzz edges and
little black legs popping off
their sides.

They were fighting each other
in tar-crackled dirt by a roadside stop.

A few feet over they were bobbing around this pond
the little ones dunking the larger ones
with unnecessary ferocity.

Someone said they must have come from outer space.

A tom-boy of a girl with tough brown hair sat by the pond.
She'd been there for some time
watching them.

"Be careful not to get their eggs on you," she cautioned,
nodding at my cap-toe Brunori's.

"Little specks. You don't want to bring them
back with you
to the city."

"Maybe we should call someone...?" I said.

"Call who?"

"Call Time," I said. "Or Newsweek. Get someone to cover these
gold colored alien fighting bugs
before they kill us all."