#pseudo-fiction

[whumpster-fire]

For this next trick, I’ll need an audience volunteer between the ages of 35 and 56 excluding prime numbers, male, nonsmoking, a maximum of 5′11″ tall with a shoe size of 9-1/2 or greater, hair must be short or able to be tied back for safety reasons, non-moustachioed for moral reasons, born under the star sign of Virgo or Libra during a non-leap-year, with no preexisting heart conditions or medical history of seizures, hypotension, cerebral oedema, erectile dysfunction, or unexplained loss of cerebrospinal fluid, with no documented allergies to latex, artificial fog, boysenberries, fire ants, or chinchillas, without any felony convictions,  outstanding arrest warrants, or unpaid parking tickets, who has never been a resident of the Nepal or Ohio and has no plans to become one within the next five years, with the ability to hold his breath for a minimum of sixty seconds, whose mother’s maiden name does not contain the letter L, who is fluent in the Dewey Decimal System and Quebecois French, and is forklift certified and a current or former Airline Transport Pilot with a type rating in the Boeing 737-300.

These requirements are all set by the Guild of Stage Magic and my insurance company and are there for your safety, mine, and that of this audience, so please, do not lie about your qualifications, but don’t be shy. Not seeing anyone... sorry, folks, I don’t get to do this trick very often, if you catch my next show maybe - oh shi - oh, there’s one, that’s great, uh, what’s your name sir?

Jim? All right, come on up on stage Jim! Let’s give Jim a big round of applause.

You’ll have to forgive me, I haven’t had a chance to do this trick in a while so I’m a little rusty... you don’t have any kids, do you Jim?

No? That’s good, that’s good. Errr... heh, heh. All right, audience members with weak constitutions might want to take a bathroom break right about now, just in case. There’s a lot that can go wrong with this act. Whew, wow I’m sweating, is it hot in this theater or what? Let me just... wipe my forehead off with this hankerchief here... Now, what I need you to do for me is pick a card, any card...

[jonkakes]

Nostalgia Be Damned (Short Story)

Sometimes, not all the time, mind you, but sometimes, I reflect on my first marriage. Each person is their own unique and delicate snowflake and my then-wife is no exception. Most often, when my mind wanders the endless, rolling hills of regret, I remember the fun little quirks that made her that person. A natural talent with colour palettes. A peculiar obsession with dolphins, then dragons, now owls. An automatic reflex of setting the Animal Crossing music to the first few notes of Lord Of The Rings. None incredibly defining, you understand, but little quirks. Part of an equation, the solution of which spelled her name. Then I think to my wife now compared to my now ex-wife. Herself with her own quirks and integers that science (verb) together to make a wholly new name. Almost as though each person is their own unique and delicate snowflake. I think that I'm with a beautiful person whose quirks do not include disliking who I am. And that helps me do the same. When I find myself nostalgic in this way, I think about the equations that my relationships combine to make. While there have always been, and always will be, little remainders - quirks - that don't quite match up, the algorithm that has two people combining mutual respect for who they are to make a more powerful whole, changes things from math to chemistry. Here's to the quirks of my wife The way she has a patented "Mario scream." Her firey passion for traffic laws. A habit of only watching WALL-E until the fat humans start talking. And most of all Loving my quirks and the quirks we have together. Now that's a nostalgia I can look forward to.

[lilkittay]

To whom it may concern that controls/influences the weather:

Dear weather controlling entities:

I apologize for the non-specific nomenclature, but I do not know how to address you. You go by many names, in many belief systems and pantheons, and I don't want to offend anyone by addressing you by what they consider the "wrong" name. I hope you understand.

My reason for writing to you today, is the dry weather. Pretty much the entire North American continent has been under a drought this year. Perhaps this is something delieberate, or perhaps it is an oversight. Maybe you are having a hard keeping reliable rainmakers in your department. I know the job market is pretty wonky these days, I don't know what kind of budget you are working with. (Sorry if this letter is a bit informal, I am a terrible writer.)

Please send rain in decent quantity to North America. Particularly, the Great Lakes region (that is where I live). I will leave you cookies and burn incense if you do this for me.

Thank you in advance,

Lilkittay

[xwoahsomeshong]

Under Construction

Entering this house once filled with blissful people, I can’t stop but feel empty inside. It’s like the bareness of the place takes over my being. The view just blinds me; ironic, since there wasn’t really anything to see. 

I thought maybe this was my subconscious mind’s way of reminding me of my present condition. This house reflects who I am, as of the moment. I am currently at the state of confusion and frustration to be repaired. I’m sick already of being broken, and thus, I am fixing myself for the better. I may be hurting now, but as time goes by, the pain would slowly turn into happiness.  All these feelings of emptiness, confusion and frustration are temporary. And I know everything will not just fall back into their rightful place, but everything will be better. If time permits, I, together with this home, will be as good as new.