By Nous December 6, 2004 ELEVATOR SHAFT I visited Crazy Carnival Girl again (see RANTS, March). I have not seen her since earlier this year (see previous paranthesis for the month). But when Jason and I were supposed to be in class doing a research paper, we drove around and I went by her house. Now, I had only met her once, and that was eight or so months ago. So I thought it would not only be funny to go knock on her door and be there out of nowhere, but with someone other than Sloth (he was there the only time we hung out with her). Jason didn't know Crazy Carnival Girl at all. At the same time, I was like, "This druggy girl won't even remember me." I wasn't even sure if she was still living there. So I knock on her apartment door and some guy answers. I ask, "Does Valerie live here?" That's her name. "Yeah, hold on," he says and walks away. So we wait, and Jason is just finding it all ridiculous. Then she comes to the door and looks at me for a moment, then says, "Nousy!" Needless to say, it was once again insane. We went to her room and met her boyfriend who was so fucking cool (or at least he was cool at the time). He was like, "You like Rock eh Roll? Neervana? Pee Floy?" Yeah, dude. Sure. He had a beanie on and with his small face and strange facial hair, he looked like a Mexican Billy Corgan. I went back yesterday as well, and some weird shit went down. It's that shit you expect to see in movies where everyone is yelling at one another and shit. God damn druggies. And with a kid in the house, no less. El Oh Well. IMPORTED COFFEE FROM TEXAS Though the swirling brown liquid had a slight tinge of sourness in its depths, overall it was a good, hot cup of imported Joe. Sweet and creamy. The taste lingered in his mouth before becoming foul. "Where'd you say this was from, Bill?" The large man behind the counter turned and smiled. He was an ex-marine type. Tall and large, crew cut brown hair, and a tatto on his right arm. He always had a three day shadow. "That sludge? From Bulgaria or some place. One of those countries we'd rape in a war." The "sludge" clung the roof of his mouth and middle of his tongue. "Tastes good at first," he said to the ex-marine. Bill turned back around and laughed. "I hate that stuff." The taste stayed in his mouth while and after he ate a donut. It stayed after he drank some of his water. It stayed after he paid the bill and left. Walking down the street, he felt the taste changing. No longer the sour taste and slimy texture. It was strong and sweet, warm on his tongue as if massaging it. The taste flooded his mouth. The feeling went to his head. And then the sourness returned, and he felt it coating his brain, which responded to the sourness on itself. He felt the slick goo on his spinal cord at the neck and it was going all the way down. He fell to his knees and felt the goo squish around his kneecaps. He fell on his face and a brown liquid oozed out of him in place of blood. Nobody in days to come knew how the large puddle of coffee ended up on the sidewalk, or why it had still not dried after weeks of being there. The mess was eventually cleaned up by the sanitation department. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I've been drinking a lot of coffee lately. In fact, my mother often wakes me up for school with a cup of coffee in her hand. I drink it and off I go. But entre nous, I really only enjoy coffee when I have my pan caliente. That is to say, I enjoy coffee best when I have that delicious warm bread one can buy from a Panaderia. A bakery, that is. Sweet bread that looks like a mushroom cap, so warm it seems to melt in one's mouth. Give me my Turkish Delight. A RECIPE FOR TURKISH DELIGHT For my birthday I actually got presents, which surprised me quite a bit because I assumed for some reason that nobody would get me anything this year. And that would have been fine with me, too. But I got this three DVD set of the Chronicles of Narnia. Those live action ones. Remember them? And one of the extras on one of the DVD's is a recipe for Turkish Delight, which I was hoping Jake's sister could make for me. But she's in China or something. I think I'll post the recipe for Turkish Delight in an upcoming rant, just in case anyone is interested. In fact, I'll make it a point to include the recipe in the next rant I write. LYDIA LIKES ALLITERATION I've got to work on my research paper. I'M SO HUNGRY I COULD DEFEAT A HORSE 'DefEat,' much like 'Gestapo' or 'Ingsoc' is an abbreviation of two combined words so that the person using the single word has less to think about. 'DefEat' means 'definitely eat,' as it is very true that I am so hungry I could definitely eat a horse. Now, that is not to say that I could definitely eat a horse due to the fact that I am hungry. For you see, were the ability to do something present along with the desire, mankind would have little to stand in his way of progress! Then again, perhaps both ability and desire can be present. In fact, I cannot see why it shouldn't be so for common experience would dictate that such a thing be true. I am talking about how I could eat a horse because I am so hungry. But I suppose - or know full well - that I could not. STORY OF MY LIFE His thumb was a penis. Yes, indeed, his thumb was a very fat, but short, penis. Fubsy, I would say. His thumb, one could then declare, was a fubsy penis. The tip of his thumb had a thin urethra out of which he could urinate. Or rather, would urinate, for he had no control over the urinating process whatsoever. Quite embarrassing it was. Now, no flaccid, limp penis was this; but strong and erect. Still, it could not help being a fubsy penis. For a two inch thumb is a healthy thumb, but a two inch penis-thumb seems to be a quite small, cursed little thing. And grooved. It had the soft bumpiness of a penis. And it was of course circumcised. Now he lived in a small room surrounded by a house. In this room he slept and ate and urinated (and urinated again). Never leaving his room, he had quite a content life. But there was, as with all rooms, something quite unordinary. Everything that went on around the room was felt inside the room. Now, I say 'felt,' but I do not mean he felt what went on outside. Rather, the room felt everything that went on around it. It felt the vibrations. The room always had an uncontrollabe urge to play with vibrations. So, often, if someone was running around outside, the walls would shake and rumble until the confusion stopped and there in the middle of the room sat a fat little frog, literally shaped from the vibrations of the outside world. This Vibrations Frog would talk to him when he was alone. But it was not always a frog. Sometimes it was a rat, and on one strange occasion, a cockroach. "There's a party at the King's palace tonight," the cockroach said. He looked at the cockroach and, for the first time in his life, left his room. But he walked so slowly that by the time he arrived at the palace, the party was over. Saddened, he walked away from the palace and headed home. Then he heard voices in the palace again and walked back, but no one was there. "Someone is playing a trick on me," he said. "They do not want me in the palace with them, so they hide when I get near." Needless to say, the boy did something very terrible that perhaps I will share with you some other time. But before I go, I will let you know one last thing. The boy should not have gotten so angry. And perhaps he would not have gotten so angry had he known it was a new kind of party that had just been invented. Had he only known it was a Party That Always Ends When One Gets There. It was a new concept, and the boy had never heard of it. The moral of the story, in any case is this: never try to reach for that which is obviously or subtely unattainable. ALLOW ME TO BE CANDID ABOUT MY LIFE I often went without a sweater, but I felt as if I were on fire. Snow, I hear, can cause some great disturbance to the well-being of body parts. Nowadays it only rains and thunders. And, as you should know, it floods as well. In these ominous and dreary days I tend to find myself alone again. Long ago when all of my belongings were so tightly packed into that room that once, when my aunt lived with us, she called her own, and I still call the old Blue Room. Or just The Blue Room. I wrote a poem about it once, if I'm not mistaken. I used to eat some ripe bananas, reading I'm Going To Be Famous, a book I bought at the Alamo Thrift Store and read about a thousand times. That and Chocolate Fever too. I love children books, and you? Give me chicken breast and bright green beans that I may eat as kings once did. Oh, it seems you've made me something else, though. It's a good thing that I like croissants. I am hungry once again. I love eating; eat and then ... CD/RWs It seems to me ... [tries to speak over blender] It seems to me that there's an awful lot of nonsense going on in these rants. But as they say, [voice quieting again] "A little nonsense now and then with relish on a slice of bread. And what have you got? A Word Sandwich." A sandwich of words, I mean. I believe I introduced the reader to the idea of Cake Sentence in the previous rant, and I suppose the next logical step would be to introduce something even more unique. A stranger thing I've never come across: Word Sandwich. Let us suppose one is hungry beyond belief. Well, not beyond belief, as I could neve write a rant about some- thing I myself could not believe (though, it should be noted that I am prone to believing the unbelievable). So let us reconsider our supposition. Let us suppose, then, that one is very hungry, but not so hungry that the hunger in question should be in question at all, as it would not be unbelievable in the least that said person could be hungry to such a degree. Excuse my HTML. It often comes out in the most unfortunate of places. So now we have supposed that one is very hungry. Now, to define the terms. One (subject) is (copula) hungry (a strange-sounding word). Notice that I have taken out the word "very." In the process of restating what which we were supposing, I discussed the possibility of "very" actually meaning "vary." With whom did I discuss it, you ask? Well, anyway, I realized that indeed, "very" some- times means "vary," and I decided that in the interest of avoiding equivocation, I had best leave "very" out. So let us restate the above sentence with our terms defined. I (subject) had (past tense) best (to outdo) leave ('leaves' singular) "very" (vary) out (command). Now that our terms are clear, we can move on. We have recently supposed that one is very hungry. If this person is not very hungry, he may say to a co-worker something to the effect of, "Say, I'm not very hungry at all. How about you?" The two shall then continue working in silence. If, instead, the one who is very hungry is only a little hungry, he may say to a friend, "I am only somewhat hungry. Should we go for a steak?" The two shall then be on their way. But if the one we have supposed is very hungry is indeed very hungry, he will say to a stranger at the park, "Say, I'm famished! What say we go to the pub and have ourselves some quail!" The two shall then away to the pub and get so drunk that they nearly die on their way home. But that really has nothing to do with Word Sandwich, as there is some amount of nonsense involved with that. The very hungry person might spout some nonsense about being so hungry he could DefEat a horse. After which he will explain that 'DefEat' is actually just an abbreviation and combination of two words - in this case "definitely" and "eat." Spouting nonsense in which two words are combined to produce something wholly new is Word Sandwich. Just as a sandwich takes bread and bologna to produce a new product, Word Sandwich takes baloney and breeds a new product already defined by me in this sentence as Word Sandwich. And that, my friends, is all she wrote. DOLFIN Sorry, I just could not help noticing that Dolfin is either misspelled, or just some clever play on words. ... Excuse me. I am now being told that it is neither. A dolfin has actually nothing to do with dolphins or the end of rants. A dolfin is a concept thought up by a Harvard phsycist to describe the strange phenomenon he witnessed while performing an experiment. Through the experiment, he apparently proved conclusively that humans are indeed children of the Gods. How nice. DOLFIN: LIGHT INFUSED INTO OTHER ENTITIES SO THAT THEY ARE DELUDED INTO BELIEVING THEY ARE THE CHILDREN OF THE GODS.