The cook asked: “Do you want a steaming hot Yellow breakfast washed down with a tall cold glass of white, Mr. Ordinary?”
“Thank you for asking, but I’d prefer the clear, unfertilized, mucoid fluid that whitens when hardened via heat, scrambled.”
"— An excerpt from a corporeal thought: BRAIN AQUATIC, inside the book of short-stories called, YOU ME ANTHOLOGY, released December 12th, 2009.
With ‘Sea of Love’ playing on some distant sound system, babies were fished out of the wombs of fisherman who couldn’t afford a hospital visit, each infant wrapped or swaddled in newspaper. A sign read, “No Cannibalism Allowed.” I’m glad they were clamping down on that particular crime though I doubt the sign would have much effect.
Surfers and gangsters, that’s all there were. The SouthBay in the ’80s had a mixture of cool and an obliviousness to its coolness. I remember always fearing that I would be jumped and shanked and robbed but I also remember ecstatically walking down the street, levitating like I was on a happy magical carpet. When little kids were getting patted down for their lunch money, I stepped in and grabbed dudes by their skulls and just thumped them together like the Three Stooges.
"— An excerpt from our book, “You Me Anthology”, being printed/distributed out today.
— Says my gardener, Mr. Mota, on temporarily disrupting his landscaping duties.
