Saturday, November 26, 2011


Here we go baby. Katheena wouldn’t go home the same way she had come in. None of us would.

Care to follow?

Katheena crept quietly back behind the lovely mansion into the darkness. All around her, shadows slithered and grew close.

She hid from the curious moon above, who had its eye on the ants in front of the mansion, where cars beeped and honked like angry geese, pinching asses of the stupid people in their way.

Katheena shivered, but not from the desert dust in her nose. Her senses told her to run.

She thought it was from dust.


So This Is Goodbye, by William Fitzsimmons.

Instinct called to her, from millions of years of self preservation at the cellular level. It is always a good idea to listen to what your instinct tells you. Logic is a newborn, and while it screams and demands attention to be fed and its diaper changed, it does not have all of the answers.

Your shivery skin may tell you something, while your mind tries to reason your fear into submission.

Fear exists for a reason.

Listen to it when it is true, and become deaf to it when greater things arise.

She should have listened, this one time, to her fear.

Her Mettle is that she would do both, but not at the same time.

One follows the other, but neither is the leader.

Ya think?


The stairs were dry. Joey punched me in the thigh. “Dude! Don’t make me strike you in the ass! Let’s go grab Sean and get the fuck outta here! Why you waiting?!”

I grunted and rubbed my thigh, and turned back down to shout at him. I had the willies. All of my skin was creeping like it was covered with ants. “Joseph, shut the fuck up! You need to look at these steps!”

Joey’s arms dropped, and he sensed my fear. He looked down. “These steps are narrow, dusty and old. So what?”

I whispered, “I saw the Glinty dude go in here. He showed me the way.”

Joey’s eyes widened. He wiped his wet eyes. “You took me in here because of that fucker? I’m gone. Not my problem.” He swung around on his heel.

I grabbed him by the leather. “No! Hear me out, man. This is an escape route, to get out of the place from the floors above!”

Joey pulled away and his face was white. “Exactly what I’m saying! We need to escape and get the fuck out! Down is this way!”

I knew his panic, and I grabbed on his leather. “Nope. We have to go up. Sean is still up there.”

"What the fuck are you talking about, Weeeee-ill?! Ain't no one up there waiting for us but that creepy bastard who was trying to kill you. He looking to give me a rub down too!"

I really wanted to chust fucking bail now.

You see, I smelled Lorelei's perfume.

It was all over me.





...nothing was there anymore.

Perfume from a girl under the ocean, thousands of miles away, here in this dusty stairwell that lead to hell below, or heaven above?

Her scent made me come apart at the seams.


It held me intact.

What The Fuck?

Underneath the weak light of the filament bulbs overhead, I felt some strength.

Out of nowhere.

I heard the ocean in my ears, and I stopped shivering from my cold, soaked leather.

I was not drowning in my fear.

Peace, out of mayhem.


I said, "Joseph, would Sean leave you and bail? Do you think that Sean would do that to you? Do you think? Do You Think At All?!"

His tensed arm softened.

He knew I was right.

No Escape for us, in this moment.

Joey stood there, in his fumbling mind, and then he straightened up. He recovered the ball. He looked back up at me. There was resolve in his eyes.

Fuck yeah.

I really needed to see that in this moment, because I would have followed him out and run off with him and escaped if he had simply said No.

But he didn’t say No.


Most of the times, the Exit, (the Escape), is your friend.

In the other few times such as now, the opposite direction is the Entrance, and you must pass through it to Escape, to Exit.

Up to go down. The yang to the yin, baby. The white and the red. Desert and ocean. Exit and Entrance.

Never the twain shall meet.

Fuck the grey, the pink, the mud, the middle ground, the fence-sitting, and the inaction due to fear.

Joey shrugged his leather back onto his shoulders and adjusted his tie.

We would go up.

Jesus For The Jugular, by The Veils.

Katheena looked into windows as she crept along, feeling the tingle of what she thought was desert dust inhaled, but not recognizing that she was in imminent danger.

You know from reading the Lorelei Talks that Katheena was in touch with her Thailand heritage, through her mother. Katheena performed the excellent Japanese tea ceremony quite well. Asia is a continent comprised of hundreds of distinct cultures, just like the USA has over 565 original tribes of cultures, each with their own language, origin story, and customs.

Katheena's mother educated her with the beauty and strength gleaned from thousands of years of culture and civility.

Katheena knew much more than we two punk bastards frozen in fear in the dusty, ancient up-stairwell.

She knew more than she knew.

She stood up and swung around. The shadows held back, with their long tendrils about to slip up from the ground and the walls to grab her.

She pulled out the small white envelope and opened it.

She inhaled a deep breath,

and then she blew all of that desert dust into the air all around her, spinning, and she tossed the paper away.


Karate Kid, the way it was originally shot. Before the special effects department dressed it up.

Brinicle. Icicle made out of sea water. It will kill you.

1,000 girls, (2,000 boobies), two hands. One month of Awesome.

So you say that you enjoy listening to Nickleback? Huh. Here’s the Motown version. Kinda improves it.

1/5th of a second. Beauty.

Seconds Of Beauty - 1st round compilation from The Beauty Of A Second on Vimeo.

Those funny Messicans. They chust don’t vote!

Watch American Voices: Gustavo Arellano on the 2012 Latino vote on PBS. See more from NEED TO KNOW.

25 pics of people in stoopid clothing. Kinda lost faith in humanity after seeing these.

How The English Language came to be.

Why the English Language is fucking awesome dooode.

Speaking of constructing things with your bare hands, how about a tiny engine? Pretty bad ass.

Speaking of speaking and creating things, Samuel L. Jackson narrates “Go The Fuck To Sleep.” A child’s night time story. Quite soothing…

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

OK, One More For You.

GI Joe. Home made, but pretty cool.

Welcome to The NEW Daily Column!!