Sometimes before I sit down to “write” (about twice a year), I loosen up with a little batting practice – just, you know, writing whatever comes to mind. Usually this nonsense goes straight in the trash, to be followed shortly by whatever serious, feature-type bit I attempt to write afterwards.

Once in a while the results are just embarassing enough, though, to publish shamelessly. This is from mid- to late-2000, judging from various personal subject matter clues. The subconscious is a frightening thing.

Before We Begin:

I vomited up the little bits. It was the technicolor of Supreme Sea Spray, my old favorite juice flavor.

Consider it done, Your Highness.

Yes, the payment has been made.

Unfortunately, your breath stinks too badly for me to even consider doing that right now.

Vicarious consumption, eating patterns unblemished by ruin.

Thousands of times, yes.

No, I never have. When did you?

Cars kept passing us, I thought he was going to actually stop in the middle of the road.

Even on the second date, you wouldn’t?

God, I hate this kind of cornice piece. Look at that fucking dental molding.

The crows kept making noise outside the window, and I couldn’t finish. I looked right in her eyes and I couldn’t finish.

Reset color geom size center.

Warp and weft, man, warp and weft.

She dove under and the current just carried her right into its mouth. Bit her in half, they said.

It’ll sting you, that’s for sure. Don’t go in there.

This bottle’s mostly full. Use this one. No, use this one. It’s pretty full.

I hate the way your butt pokes out of those jeans. Get some real pants for God’s sake.

This money’s not worth the shit it’s printed on.

I haven’t escaped, I’ve just been forcing myself to stay in there this whole time. Wouldn’t you?

I mean, look at her. She’s like teeth on a chainsaw blade.

The rain keeps blowing in the blinds and they keep knocking over the things on the window ledge.

Her hair. Nothing is like her hair. Her hair is like Nothing.

Lose the robe, baby, let’s get this show on the road. Ok, lights!

Haven’t you got the foggiest idea how long it took me to get those in there?

As I write this I am sitting in Simon’s Tavern in Chicago’s fabulous and historical and Scandinavian Andersonville district. I am sitting on a recently reupholstered sofa and sipping on a Pabst Blue Ribbon while keeping an eye out for friends who may or may not show. In fact, it is quite likely that I have missed them, as I arrived somewhat late and many of my friends lately have been giving in to their damn fool impulses to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Maybe they call it maturity. Maybe they’re dopes.

Oh, I’m probably just jealous of their self-control.

Anyhow, a brother and sister pair have sat down on the couch across from me and said hello — Mark and Lauren, I believe their names are. They are telling me about their moneymaking ideas, most notably toilet paper with the news printed on it. I point out to them that it would be difficult to keep the toilet paper rolls timely, as a daily or even perhaps a weekly delivery would result in far too much news for the average ass-wiper to keep up with. Plus, people’s asses are generally dirty enough without worrying about newsprint and the like.

I have finished my beer, and now I am getting up to leave and wishing Mark and Lauren farewell. I have told them that I am here regularly on Mondays, and even though it’s true more in theory than it is in practice, they seem to be impressed that I actually have a night during the week specifically set aside for drinking in a bar. So perhaps I will see them again in the future. Or perhaps not. Even now, as I walk to the train station, I have already largely forgotten what they look like.

Warm weather really brings out the beggars in my neighborhood. I’ve been asked for all sorts of things. A little while back a young kid asked me if I could give him a ride from my neighborhood out to some far west suburb. As I was on my way to work, I could not. I’m not sure I would have anyway, but at least I had an excuse other than “I don’t do favors for strangers”. He wasn’t around when I came back, so presumably he found his way out.

Tonight, I’m approached by three different middle-aged black men asking me for change. Well, only one of them actually approaches me. The other two just call out to me as I walk past. I’m never certain what to do in these situations. I suppose it really depends on the presentation. Sometimes I hustle past, doing my best to ignore them. Other times I apologize for not being able to help them, and other times still I actually dig in and pull out some cash. I’m very inconsistent.

Tonight, however, I have no change to give even if I wanted to. Nor do I have smokes to lend, nor matches to light said smokes. I do, however, have a portable computer in my pocket. I nod hello to the folks on the street and walk quickly and quietly home.

I have made arrangements to travel out to the Left Coast for a few days at the beginning of August. I am unsure of the wisdom of this endeavor, but it will be nice to visit somewhere that is not Chicago nor Dayton nor the strip of land between Chicago and Dayton.

Last weekend, a very unfortunate thing occurred. I cleaned needlessly.

I won’t get into why I felt I had to clean, or what made it needless. Such subjects shall be relegated to so much grist for the rumor mill. And, even so, needless cleaning is not a giant tragedy in and of itself. After all, even when one cleans needlessly, one is left with a clean apartment, correct?

The answer: Sort of.

While I was either sleeping or out of the house sometime last weekend, the shelf in my bedroom closet — piled high with boxes overzealously stacked to finally get them off my bedroom floor, where they had been since I moved in back in the fall of 2000 — collapsed, taking with it the wooden hanging rod and all of my clothes, including one relatively expensive suit, and very nearly taking out the sliding doors, which are primarily composed of full length mirrors.

I am unsure how much time elapsed between the shelf collapsing and my noticing it. Expeditions into my closet in the summertime have traditionally been limited at best, as I keep most of the clothes that I actually wear in a dresser outside the closet. No, the only reason I noticed the shelf had collapsed was that one of the mirrored sliding doors was bulging outwards in the middle. And the only reason I noticed that was that I, too, was bulging outwards in the middle.

Perhaps you’ve never had a full length mirror in your bedroom and think me peculiar, but sure enough, one day this past week, before or after a shower, I stood naked in my bedroom, admiring myself in the mirror. “Yes,” I thought. “I am a god.”

I turned to the side and noticed that my belly was sticking out about a foot further than normal. Moreover, I seemed to be looking slightly downwards at my reflection, and I looked shorter than usual. Sure enough, that’s when I saw that the closet door was bulging outwards. A tiny peek through the closet door revealed evidence of a shelf collapse.

I honestly did not think I put anything particularly heavy on that shelf. It was mostly empty boxes. The only items of notable weight were a tub of Legos and a box of old notebooks from college. But, as I discovered, the shelf was no more than thin particle board which was poorly supported, and was destined to snap in the event that significant weight were placed upon it.

For a few more days I chose to ignore the bulging closet, leaving the contained clutter to fester as I considered various ways to remedy the situation. Today, however, I finally succumbed to my irrational fear of the mirrored closet doors shattering and scattering glass fragments everywhere, including all over my cat and my eyes. I pried open the doors and began to shovel the contents out onto my only recently-uncluttered bedroom floor, soon realizing I would end up with a bigger mess than what I started with.

I then headed to my local Home Depot, intending to purchase a wooden rod and shelf, spending a negligible amount of money in the process. I would have needed a specially cut shelf, as the back of my closet has irregular dimensions. However, I never even made it to the lumber. Instead, I bought this ridiculous modular closet/shelving unit that will probably not fit in my closet at all, let alone allow me to more efficiently organize my belongings. And as I am reluctant to learn that I am right about such matters, surprise! The shelving unit remains unassembled, and the contents of my closet remain scattered on my bedroom floor.

And my belly remains sticking out a foot further than normal.

From the files, circa 1999. What began as a freeform writing exercise ended up as a pretty blatant rip-off of The Onion, if anything so blatant can even be termed a rip-off, as opposed to a misguided homage or pastiche or whathaveyou.

Eco-Librarian At B-School Is My Confidante, Says Disgraced Oil Executive

“Comfort Zone” Celebrates Grand Opening
New Adult Themestaurant Promises To Keep At Least 10 Feet Of Distance Between All Occupants

Mallady, My Lady Opens Off Broadway, On Crapway
New Street To Serve As Haven For Cliched Fluff Of Musical Theater

Stethoscope Probes Pope
Pope: “There’s nothing wrong down there.”

Halibut Lodge Formal Complaint Against Jokester’s Cheap Puns
Comic Tom Fullery: “Why Do I Crack Wise About These Fish All The Time? Just For The Halibut!”

Bottle Opener In Second Drawer To Right Of Sink
No Wait, First Drawer To Right Of Sink. How About Under Sink. In Cabinet Above Sink? On Top Of Fridge?

AUTOS: All-Latin Jukebox Built In To El Camino

EDUCATION: “Bagel” Popular With Math Teacher, Dorks
“Smear The Queer” Popular With Special Ed Teacher, Retards

MEDICINE: First-Ever Case Of Lapdanceriasis Identified, Diagnosed, Treated In Poorly-Lit Back Room

COMMUNITY: “All-Day Event” At Area Racetrack Draws Crowd, Annoys Local Man
“Blatant Attempt To Raise Money For Spousal Boob Job”

HOME ECONOMICS: Lotion Deficit Brought On By Frequent Visits To “Pants Bar”

CULTURE: Unprovoked Hitchcockianism Wrecks Perfectly Good Slasher Pic

SPORTS: Georgia Superstars, King George III, Sweep Nebraska Nipples 86-69