May 6, 2015

Old Dixon Ticonderoga


 This is about pencils and wanting to get away from screens and draw shitty cartoons.

Old Dixon Ticonderoga #2








It’s raining out the window
and my eyes are pixelating
Staring at computer screens.
I just want to pick up my
Old Dixon Ticonderoga
and draw shitty pictures of my
            Dreams.
My iPhone is buzzing
To say I’m 10 minutes late,
My eyes are heavy,
and my give-a-damn is waning.
I just want to pick up my
Old Dixon Ticonderoga
and draw shitty pictures of my
            Dreams.
I’ve been up and running
for what seems like 47 hours,
but it’s only been 129 minutes.
Don’t know why I’m counting down,
when there’s no rocket to launch. 
I just want to pick up my
Old Dixon Ticonderoga
and draw shitty pictures of my
            Dreams.
My mind is ruminating
on all the stupid shit I wish
I’d never done
Sometimes I think I’ve
just forgotten what it’s
like to simply have some fun.
Life needs a giant eraser
I’d just wipe some
mis-(or missed)-adventures away,
and start over again
with a relatively clean page.
I just want to pick up my
Old Dixon Ticonderoga
and draw shitty pictures of my
            Dreams.
I’m a terrible artist so
this metaphor is lame,
I don’t care because I’m
drawing superheroes
flying through outer space.
My mind is like 2-year old
scattered all over the place.
I just want to pick up my
Old Dixon Ticonderoga
And draw shitty pictures of my
            Dreams.

May 3, 2015

Dr. Who and the Orthodic Alien Burrito


A Doctor Who Short story Written as my wife's mothers day card.  Picture the 11th doctor (Matt Pond)

Dr. Who and the Orthodic Alien Burrito
On a random Sunday at an unspecified relatively unimportant moment in the history of the Universe, an antique, blue, and extremely British Police Box Apperated (the official Harry Potter word for disappearing from one location and appearing elsewhere as a method of transportation) in front of a decidedly weird and busy pink doughnut shop in what appeared to be a city of some sort.  Despite a slight rain, a large line of people were lined up outside. 

            “OOOO, Shock, awe, well, this isn’t Andy Warhol’s Factory in the 1970s,” said the Doctor quite loudly to no one in particular.  He confidently stepped out of the box in a bowtie and tattered suit.  “Excuse me, Flannel-Beard-Guy and Pierced-Tattooed-High-Wasted-Bike-Short Woman, where and when am I?”
           
            “Portland, Mother’s Day, 2015,” said Beard Guy as the doughnut line continued to snake around the newly present Police Box without stopping or moving at all in response to the new arrival. 

            “No response, no shock, no surprise.  Come on people, random man, British accent, appearing a Pacific Northwest Street,” said the exasperated time-traveler with a hint of disappointment.

            “The Time Based art event is in a few months but that effect was pretty cool,” said Pierced-Tattooed-High-Wasted-Bike-Short Woman.  “you should totally enter it.”

            “Well, um yes, that’s why I’m here.  Art installation on the impact of emergency medical communication with a British accent.  Carry on…or first…”
Fifteen Minutes later, the Doctor was riding down the Portland streets in the rain on a fixed gear bicycle, loudly singing Oasis songs for no apparent reason, eating a doughnut made of bacon and maple syrup. 

            The Doctor road around the town for a while getting soaked by the slow, constant downpour but didn’t appear bothered, “the traffic’s better than London, but the weather’s the same…” he said again to no one in particular. 

 It must’ve been around 5pm when the doctor heard someone yell, “nice bow-tie” from the sidewalk.  It was an overweight man with impressive sideburns pushing a stroller near what could only be a delicious Mexican Restaurant.  Inside was a small and loquacious human around 2- years-old or approximately 2/968ths of the Doctor’s age.  The Doctor thought this was as good of a place to stop as any.  His travel companions were visiting family and there was no Dalek invasion, so a burrito sounded fantastic. 

As the Doctor tried to stop, he realized the bike he had found in a long lost Tardis closet had no functioning breaks, so he frantically waved the sonic screwdriver at the wheel as he slammed the curb toppled over.  “Are you ok” said the side-burned man as he reached down to help the doctor off of the bike. 
“Ok” parroted the small human, followed by, “gah do wahh bah noon p.”

“Right as rain little one, Peri right.  Sir, your daughter here is a very important person.  I believe I just met the greatest novelist of the 21st century and founder of the Human/Alien Art Exchange.  It’ll make more sense in, oh 30 years or so.  Sorry, spoilers, must’ve hit my head.  I speak baby.  Time to have burrito,” rambled the doctor.

As he adjusted his suit and straightend his wet bowtie, the sideburned man, waved down an approaching well-dressed woman.  “Honey,” he said, “this man who just crashed his bike, says our daughter is going to be a novelist and share art with aliens.”
“By the way, what is your name, I’m Bob and this is my wife Morgan, and daughter who’s name your creepily know.”
“Sir, we will call the cops,” said the wife.  In this couple, thought the Doctor, this woman is the one who means business.

“Sorry, I’m the Doctor, a time-traveling alien.  I think I’m here to buy you dinner and give you some advice.  Bob, judging from you Star Wars shoes, this may be your perfect evening.  Shall we.”

“Go ahead Bob,” said Morgan, “might as well see where this leads, besides, Pablo at the bar will take care of him if he tries anything fishy.  Don’t forget your daughter.”

Bob grabbed the toddler who was nearly out of the stroller and pushed through the door behind the Doctor and Morgan who were already at the bar ordering Margaritas and Burritos. 

“Well, you aren’t surprised to be talking to me.  No one in this town seems to care.  So disappointing.  I like making and entrance,” said the doctor while he and Morgan waited for Bob to order.  Peri ran and gave her mother a giant hug.  “Seriously, it’s like this is common place.”

“Doctor, Portland is weird.  There’s a unicycling bagpiper and multiple adult marching bands that can sell out concerts.  I think at this point we all just take things as they come,” explained Morgan.

They all sat down around a table.  Peri slid from her mother and climbed on the Doctor’s lap.  Bob seemed anxious but Morgan seemed not to mind at all.  “Babies like me,” said the Doctor, “but I think this one pooped.”  Bob grabbed the small one from the Doctor and headed towards the bathroom.

“Morgan,” said the Doctor, “you’re the one I’m actually here to see.  In about  20 years from now on a linear timeline , I travel with your daughter.  She asked that I come back here and tell you that you’re amazing and you do an amazing job.  Peri told me to tell you that you taught her how to be strong and sensitive and human and that it might help for you to hear it from a well-dressed stranger.”  As he said this a tear came to Morgan’s eye.  “Also, spoilers, enjoy the Cirque de Solei.”

            “Of course, I’m also here to stop the alien monster living inside your foot from taking over the world…the creature in the orthotic.  Kind of forgot about that fact when I grabbed my doughnut.”

            Morgan’s foot began to twitch.  She fell on her back but her leg was whipping around in the air.  “Bartender, Pablo right, can you get me a Gin and Tequila in a diet coke with a maraschino garnish, quickly please.  Kind of wrestling a possessed leg here.”  The patrons in the restaurant barely looked up.  Their food was good and they didn’t want to disturb this dinner theater that they would blog cynically about later. 

            Pablo brought the doctor the drink as a double tall in a pint glass.  The doctor quickly dumped it on the Morgan’s shoe.  Her leg stopped shaking as her shoe slipped itself of her foot, wiggled its way to the corner and began snoring.  Pablo and the doctor helped Morgan up and sat her down shaking.  “Morgan, I have to take this shoe back to it’s home planet, NIKEA but don’t forget my message, and thanks for dinner.  Peri says happy Mother’s Day, from the future”  The Doctor left just as Bob and Peri came out of the bathroom.  Peri was in new pants. 

            Morgan walked over, picked up Peri and gave her a big hug.  Bob was confused, but that was his normal state of being.  Peri knowingly looked out the window and waved to the raggedy bow-tied man getting in a blue box outside.  The Doctor gave her a wink and mouthed, “call me!” and disappeared.