Poultrygeist – a foul ghost that haunts you and ruffles your feathers
Don’t know where to start. Been wanting to write for a day and scratch the itch.
I write the best when I’m washing dishes and showering. But it’s difficult to type while wet. And a waterproof notebook hasn’t been purchased yet.
Geez. Us. Jesus. A bunch of Christians congregate at a it place. Fleshly desires.
We went to see Wonder Woman it wasn’t great. In fact, it was awful. Stupid. Predictable. Each CGI shot of someone jumping in the air was clunky and … holy ship, just don’t see the movie!
Walked out on the second morning from Darren Wiseman’s and missed the mist. The vantage from the barnyard door was mystical. Overlooking a sea of crops until the land seemingly dropped off and mountains lay in the distance. They appeared painted by Bob Ross himself, set against a sorbet menagerie sky.
Finally reheated the food from last weekend when I celebrated by grandpa’s birthday. Fish, steak, and mac & cheese in the over on broil I realized while eating that a sour part was in my mouth. I knew it would cause me indigestion but I swallowed it anyway. Though, after that, I spit out two masticated clumps of food. Knowing for sure that swallowing them would only cause me pain. A diet bulb popped up in my stomach and from this afternoon I decided to curb my appetite. Much less grains, expect lentils and ancient grains, and more protein and veggie diet. No dairy, no beer. A shot of alcohol a day. Why more? Why poison myself. I know the damage done by fleshly desires. LOL … I created a new acronym I’d like to circulate. MML. Meaning, “Made myself laugh”. It’s when the saying isn’t funny enough to make others chuckle but you laugh to yourself. I like it better than LTM ( laughing to myself ) because it lacks the onomatopoeia of mml.
So we celebrated Brittney’s birthday. Hooray. Sarcasm. There a Asian buffet we met up at. Miyaki. All-You-Can-Shit is the business model. Pay one giant fuqing fee of $26.16 and get all the warm, wet fish you can muster to eat. There are stations of course. It’s not just nasty raw fish. There’s nasty knock-off Chinese food. And of course, ice cream from years past. Real relic flavors. Red bean paste and pistachio. I don’t get why…my friends act retarded. “Mike, do we just walk up and grab food?” “Is it only buffet or is there a menu?” “What’s good here?” Look, I’ve never been here before, I assume it’s like every other buffet you’ve ever been to, so grab a plate like everyone else and fill it up with brightly colored disappointed bland grub. Haven’t you ever been to a buffet? I feel like I’m in a Twilight Zone of awkwardness. Why do I spot social ineptitude? It’s a gift and a curse. Always expecting, always disappointed, not always, but frequently.
Big Ben pulled me aside, out of the sushi line, away from calories. I looked at him with the glare of a dog whose meal was just taken away from him. This better be good or I’m going to growl. OK, that previous part is a lie but I wanted to write it and as your honest author I MUST get my ideas out. “You want to hear the most awkward thing? You know that feeling when you see Brittney and Bennet hold hands, HARD!” He looks at me, waiting for a shocked response. I thought, let them hold hands, who cares besides you three? I don’t even think it crossed god’s mind. I told him, “Yea, that is awkward.” He continued with his emotional short rant while filling his plate with sauces and wasabi.
They sat and talked. Each with a motive. To avoid. To engage. To probe. To instigate. To mingle was mine. Rattle a cage, incite and entice the insight of the 20s/30s group. Mike, what do you think makes a good friendship? I gave my answer. There is a amount of loyalty and reliability and accountability that makes up a friendship. Goes through some trying time and makes it out the other side closer with more mutual understanding. I sat between Ben and Bennett. Buff Bennett biceps twitched. He sat there, with his arms on the table, staring at his arm, I put my fingers underneath his bicep and pushed it upward making it bulge and giving it voice, “Flex me Bennett! I want to lift!”. Personifying Bennett’s bicep broke Big Ben and he started to laugh into his hands. Ben Burge told Big Ben, ,”If you’re choking you can use your own chair for the heimlich maneuver.” “I’m not choking, I’m laughing.” Ben responded to Ben with his head still in his hands. Holding his fork, eating his sushi, see anything wrong with this? I do. We’re paying for shitty overproduced food.
The restaurant closed at 10:30 and we we’re still sitting there when 11 rolled around. The cleaning crew had bussed all the tables but ours and as they walked by, they glared, not saying to please leave but definitely trying to drop the hint we were no longer wanted. A group of 7 Asian women stood on the other side of the register and stared us, quietly gossiping.
Just imagine being homeless.
Take a shot of sake.
I got up and walked outside, then performed the classic stair routine on the other side of a window to amuse my friends. I poked my head out and acting like I was going up and down stairs, using a canoe, and fighting the urge to keep going. This should be a bit. How to make the simplest thing of a blocked window to amuse and entertain with simple street tricks. Parlor tricks v. street tricks
Kaitlyn had people over her house, it was so fun. Like I got to sleep with a warm body that night and I remembered the dry humping session multiple times the next day. I ran home first to grab some Moonshine and toke up. I question if I should post these sorts of articles. It is my journal. It is my heart’s deluge. Why not, right? I’ll find out why not when I cross that footbridge.
“Is it tit for tat or tip for tap?” I knew the answer but sadly, she didn’t.
Your body is a wonderland. Go for a ride, have a good time.
Back to Kaitlyn’s house. We take shots of moonshine, it’s called White Lightning and boy does it shock you. Nasty stuff. She collects shot glasses, like most UF grads. Her favorite color is teal and it shows in her decoration and preferences.
We walk to the beach together and stop to pick up beers. I lagged behind, grabbing a water from F1 Burger. The couple in front of me was soooooo slow. As if they had never been in a restaurant. Come on guys, it’s 12:30 am. Move along. If you don’t know what you want I’ll break your other arm.
Tonight was the first night I gook lots of video and purposefully started vlogging. It is an interesting proposition that making short documentaries of my life can result in fame, notoriety, sculpting my communication skills. Anyway, back to my shitty story of making out with two girls. We get to the beach and my friends walk North but I see lights and commotion South, so I walk that way. Two white boys reeled in a massive nurse shark. They were in the process of removing the hook from her mouth and posing with it. Brittney had her guitar and began to play worship songs while we passed around Funky Buddha brew. The moon lightly lit the beach. The ambient glow from the pier illuminated the cerulean water that rolled over it’s concrete pylons. Washing over barnacles and tiny crabs and crashing on the sand. I sat on the towels and took some deep breaths.
I find it strange that the church group is so, well, churchy. They pray openly and ask what you want prayer for and say what they were delivered from and act like they are constantly getting epiphanies from above but don’t seem to be any different than me. Seeking, wanting.
Jackie Fortier was heading over and Big Ben told me to rendezvous with her and walk back to the beach. I called her and we related locations until we were face-to-face. She instantly became emotional, put her head on my shoulder and lightly sobbed. She said she was scared and frightened and frustrated and that she had been driving around lost. Strange, this isn’t like the Jackie I know. I asked where she came from, she said she just had a date. That’s good that I’m not the only guy in her life. Because I can’t be committed to one girl and I wouldn’t want to be. She stumbled a little and took a bit longer to put her sentence together, I think she is tipsy, why did she drive? We walk back to the beach and she stops me at the cafe and kisses me. I love it, she grabs me, pulls me in and gets some. “Where’s the group?” she asks me, inches away from my lips. I turn and point to the group right behind us. She puts her face in her hands, “oh my god.” Yeah, I thought she was just marking her territory but she didn’t realize they were all right there. So close, yet I don’t think they looked up and saw us.
Jackie and I walked the beach, she ran and I sprinted past her. Flipped on Frank Sinatra, That’s Life, and put it in my hoodie. I rolled a joint when we got back to the blanket, waited for half the group to leave.
Don’t talk about other people’s drama, it only attracts sloppy slander….
We get back to Kaitlyn’s house, I find a smutty love novel and begin reading aloud. The rest of the night I break into the voice I read the novel with and fantastically told stories of love making and pretending my friends were the horny characters from the love novel, “Apache Warrior”.
I quickly imagine all the work i have to do and pretend it’ll never come to pass. I also can plan out and strategize every facet of this fucking job, get my job done, to the gills! And get a killer job somewhere else! Writing jokes.
Jackie and Jackie leave Kaitlyn and I alone, and I’ll leave it at that.
Up at 8:30. Jelly and cream cheese on a wheat bagel, tart strawberries, and a K-cup. I’m ready world, throw me a few shots, I’ll parry. Tonight I go to support my friend Catherine Transleau at her on stage improv fundraiser performance. The Golden Goodies is the name of her theater troupe. I’ve never heard of the SOL Theater but hey, I don’t know every nook and cranny. So Kaitlyn and I go, the material is sloppy and dead air fills the gaps between poorly timed lines. I take my face and bury it in the nape of neck, slipping a kissing in before and after. The woman behind me spills red wine on my colorful hoodie. She wears turquoise jewelry and bones and shells. The best joke all night is as follows.
The game is called, Schwarzenegger, and the players need to say a line that Arnold would right before killing someone. The topic is bowtie. The player kicks in the door, pumps the shotgun, says, “You’ll live!”, pulls the trigger and says, “knot!” The audience roars with laughter. She herself giggles and laughs into the crux of her arm. Speaking of arms, what an awkward incident when looking for a volunteer. The player pulls a “volunteer” from the audience to help out with another game. But the volunteer has a birth defect and never developed his left arm. There was a nub and a pinky at the end of it with muscular dystrophy leading up to his shoulder. He was instructed to move the players because they couldn’t move themselves. How awkward I thought. Make someone with a physical deformity touch people…on stage. Yikes. Their acting was worse though. My old work colleague was in the cast. Red headed Randy. He was quite good actually, responsive, engaging, good overall. My date Kaitlyn told me in the intermission she saw him kissing the deformed man, they’re together?! He’s gay?!
My high school friend Catherine is killing it. The funniest one on the stage, she ended her show in a sparkly gold onesie and shrimped around the floor. Her friends showed up and they appeared to be tripping, that’s all I can say. They all appeared mentally distant, giggled a lot to each other, and shouted jiu-jitsu every time the players called out for a suggestion.
Speaking of disfigured left arms, the android in the movie I watched with Andy today had his left arm burned off with alien acidic sanguine excretion. Why in Alien Covenant with the Walter/David character on the ship that dropped the bomb on people? Was it one of them or a previous generation? I don’t get it. Someone please explain it to me. Back to my night.
Afterwards, Kaitlyn and I go watch MMA fights with the jew crew. They have a house full of their jui-jitsu friends. Lot’s of alcohol and terribly cooked food. Chaim thinks he can cook, he hasn’t proved it to me yet.
Before that, we grabbed a California roll at Geisha. You can completely judge a sushi restaurant on their California roll, it is the industry standard. Kaitlyn bought white sake and I had some.
Good fights at the jews. The Aldo v Halloway fight was the main card. Finished in the second round with Halloway punching away the Aldo’s head. The ref let it go for thirty seconds more than he had to. They fought in Rio, Aldo’s hometown, and I suppose the ref didn’t want a mob of angry Brazilians charging the ring. I’ve watched enough prison torture videos to know that Brazilians exemplify brutal carnage and show no mercy when they want to destroy their opponent.
Something that Lauren said stands out to me. “I’m not someone to play the field.”
At least you’re acknowledging that some are like that, and you know what, they have the liberty to be that way. I like to play the field, I really like to just kiss pretty girls and get some pee pee touches. It’s my hormonal dream to connect with a bunch of groups and have steady girlfriends. The cool guys in Hollywood do it. They also have sports cars and bachelor pads. So yeah, either Hollywood has it right and I want to fit their mold or this is the way of the world and I’m living in the sinful desires of my flesh.