Twenty minutes matters quite a lot in this tale I have been telling you all these years.
When you are engaged in the world at the root of its function, you will need to remember your time allowance, before you get kicked out.
Twenty Minutes: How long it takes your soul to leave your body after you die. We have “Wakes” for this reason. Sometimes, a body may awaken after two days, but there is no soul left inside. Beware of such an awakening. Zombie.
Twenty Minutes: The amount of time you are afforded after you enter a celebration of strange things to which you have not been officially invited.
Twenty Minutes: How long it takes for a certain stimulant to wear off. Until then, the world is your own, private moon party, no matter who has a telescope.
You, my friend, are officially invited to this here party: this tale, as we head on towards All Hallows Eve. And for that, I apologize to you. You do not deserve to witness this part of the story.
There exist entrances into other places which you may never see, here on this tiny blue marble, alone in the eternity of space.
Such entrances are not seen by those who stumble along life’s path with their eyes half-open, like zombies, looking for their own brain.
The rest of us are awake, with eyes wide open, and we are in a state of constant, total amazement.
Is this you?
I think you are.
Shout out to the Boss of TDC, Richie Fowler. Without a deadline for writing this tale each weekend, I would not be digging in the boneyard of my ugly past. Thanks bro. This is all your fault. Whatever happens, you get your own. You have yourself to thank for this, dude.
This tale will get worse before it improves, TDC willies Enjoyer. There is redemption at the end, but you have to earn it. Sorry about that. You are a witness to hell, and that is the price. The cost is, indeed, considerably more.
Let’s check this out, my friend. I won’t leave you behind, if you have the guts to follow.
En-Trance is a French term that makes you all hypnotized and shit.
Here, we three punks discovered all the meanings of Entrance.
We would not find Sean, because he was off at Tellesco’s new place. But Minacca was there, and she did not approve of us showing up. Inside, we saw that freaky dude Glinty McFlintlock; a sweet old photographer who, as it would turn out, was an angry old cowboy ghost who used to paint his wagon hearse with a white circle K.
Yeah, there are entrances you may never see.
God Help You if you ever do. It could change everything.
After we exited Katheena's car Orion, I stopped my two best friends to have a pre-game booster. One was staggering, and this indicated the manner in which the other two of us would be soon engaging, because we three young punk bastards had chust polished off a fifth of gin.
“Joseph, Katheena, hold on a bit. I got something here.”
I pulled out a small, white envelope and a straw.
Remember when the Little Lion Man stood behind us at the water reservoir with the giant blood moon glimmering upon it’s surface? Ant Knee and I done made a deal.
Over the chain link fence.
Then Joey began to talk about how Tommy Hewitt’s death was his fault.
I reached in my pocket for my ID card, and there, upon the gleaming hood of Katheena’s beautiful bitch, I brushed off the desert dust and lined us up.
The black bird spread its wings wide.
Crows record our human condition, lest you have forgotten.
The first line was always the best. Twenty minutes later, you would be wanting more. And then, after many more, you would keep trying to chase the feeling of the first one.
Such a pursuit will always end in despair, ugliness, and fiending for more.
Never engage in such behavior.
What follows is not an endorsement of bad things at all. It’s simply a description of a bad time, many years ago, which no one should ever have done.
I waited to see how Katheena felt about this Entrance into another World.
She bent, did it, then stood, and shrugged.
Of course, Joey and I watched her bend over in her short, black dress, and filled our eyes with her lovely back-side.
Now don't look at me that way. You would have looked. Man or woman, we all do this sort of thing.
She handed the straw to Joey.
She watched Joey do his.
She waited as I did mine, probably checking out my own rear. Why do women check out men's butts? Not much to see there, but is it biologically coded? To see if a dude has good pushing muscles back there? Fuck muscles?
I stood back up, rubbing my gums with the remainder of desert dust from her car's hood and I looked over to her.
A smile grew across her face.
She came up to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Hug me.”
I did, and she started to giggle. It was pretty, like the tinkle of crystal goblets and bone china plates. I wanted to shush her, but what the hell. No harsh from me, then and there.
Joey woke the hell up. “Weeeee-ill! Where have I been?”
"Welcome back, Joseph. We off to the moon."
Indeed, a feeling of warmth and tingle crept from my legs to my sexual parts, and then up my back, down my arms, and then into my head.
A smile formed on my face that would not go away.
Katheena kissed my face all over, and it felt like I could fly off into the night sky without a care.
Again, this was something that would never exist again. Never chase such a thing. Nothing good results from it. You will see.
We walked across the tar to the front doors like we were the crown jewels of the world, as the moon overhead erupted out of its death shroud of rain clouds and glared down on the Earth.
One of those chauffeurs came over and greeted us as we made our way to the front doors.
“Hi, I’m Gregory. Where is your car?”
I think, looking back, that he didn’t want us to be all parked sideways or someshit and blocking the lone lane out, which would inconvenience his employer when it was time to leave.
You know that we would be inconveniencing everyone, but not in that manner. We would be jetting off in twenty minutes, after the carnage that ensued.
Katheena smiled at him and he probably wet himself in his jockey shorts. She was a beautiful night angel just touched down from the bright moon overhead. “We got dropped off, while you and those boys have been chugging from that silver whiskey flask over there.” She nodded at the group of men watching us.
Gregory halted for a bit as we rang the doorbell.
An older gent in a tuxedo greeted us. “Hallow there. Are you invited?”
Katheena turned back to Gregory and said loudly, “Thank you Gregory, that will be all. Don’t scratch the bumper again.”
She turned back to Jeeves. “Yes, we are invited.”
The older gent stepped back politely and Gregory turned on his heel and went back to his group.
Dayam, dude, Katheena showed real mettle.
We followed the butler inside through the Entrance.
We were fully Entranced, my friend.
This would not end well.
Why is thedailycolumn.com an online place that will be replicated after the FB follows G+ into oblivion? OK, FB will probably always be around, but here’s an interesting 8 minute vid by Chris Poole about online anonymity and why it is important.
And why it will outlast other places. Cyber real is different than real real.
Oh, yeah. The world was supposed to “end” yesterday or something. Like it was supposed to end back in May. …So, how about some recipes for tasty food?
Blood stains and their usefulness.
Drink blood, or drink light beer? Rum and coke? It says a lot about you, mister man.
With the Occupy Everywhere “rebellion” going on everywhere, is there a danger that someone could take it over? There is anger and motivation involved on those places. All is needed is some egomaniac, and the next thing you know, a few million zombies will be created. And here’s why. Some folks don’t have a fist fucking clue.
What do you bet? I mean, do you bet on anything? Here are the 7 worst things that folks bet on and expect to win.
Why do we dream, and how does it happen?
Led Zep’s Whole Lotta Love, by that sound effects guy from the Police Academy movies. Rocking and ramping.
Dark Matter. No, not speckled in your under garments. But real evidence found by the Fermi telescope. Interesting.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
OK, one more for you.