You’re What’s Wrong with the World: A Monologue

No, I’m not mad that you dumped me and left me for someone else. That shit happens every day to everyday people. What pisses me the hell off is the realization that the trust and love I held sacred for over three years was wasted on a superficial person with no desire to really live. How many times did I urge you to move out of your parent’s house and you said you can’t afford to. Fuck that, my brother ekes out a living in Brooklyn as a foodrunner. You live in Orlando with a salaried position and health insurance. It’s because you’re scared. Which is OK! Just admit it to yourself.  It’s OK to not know, I sure as hell don’t, but own up to it and don’t mask it with expensive clothes and fake tans. That kind of self-deception reads like bullshit painted on a wall. Like if Picasso actually used a bulls shit to paint Guernica. It stinks. And you don’t even get that reference, do you? I am so glad it ended as ugly as it did because now I know the world is full of mendacity (lying and liers) and I accept it. But I’ll be damned if I let it affect me. So be gone. Good riddance to you and your willful ignorance. Oh, and the tan? The clothes? In the long run shit gives you cancer and nobody cares.

Another Open Ended Adventure of A and B

A. Did you bring it?

B. I brought… some things? What do you mean?

A. Last week you called me out on Facebook.

B. Oh…

A. Now you remember.

B. Look, dude…

A. Shut the fuck up. Why would you say something like that?

B. I didn’t mean what you think.

A. Subtext, motherfucker.

B. I deleted it!

A. Not before she saw it!

B. No…

A. Yeah.

B. Shit. Did she? Did you guys…?

A. Must be nice, huh?

B. What?

A. All yours now.

B. Whoa… A, that had nothing to do with it.

A. True though, isn’t it?

B. I just want you to know that has nothing to do with it.

A. Just say you’re sorry.

B. I’m sorry.

A. Now get out of my life.

B. I’m sorry.

The Open Ended Adventures of A and B

A: Did you bring it?

B: What?

A: The thing.

B. Maybe.

A. What’s that supposed to mean?

B. What. It means maybe. Maybe it’s in the car. But I don’t know.

A. Fucking shit.

They go to the car. 

A. Well?

B. Let me see. (Rooting around in the car) Hey!

A. Do you have it??

B. Look!

A. It’s a pen.

B. Yeah, one of those anti-gravity pens they take into space.

A. That’s not it!

B. But I though I lost it! Astronauts, man.

A. Look for the fucking thing!

B. All right, all right…

A. Anything?

B. No, I checked everywhere.

A. Damn…

B. Sorry…

A. Not your fault. Just would’ve been nice to have by now.

B. Yeah… I can make you one if you like.

A. You can make me one of those?

B. Sure! Wait… One of those these?

A. B!

B. Sorry, I have a bad habit of getting peoples hopes up.

A. Ugh…

B. Want my pen instead?

A. Does it really work?

B. Look for yourself.

A. This is pretty cool.

B. Right? Got it at Goodwill.

A. What??

B. Astronaut Goodwill.

The Majesty of Calmness

“The Majesty of Calmness”
From Self Control, Its Kingship and Majesty, 1905
By William George Jordan
Calmness is the rarest quality in human life. It is the poise of a great nature, in harmony with itself and its ideals. It is the moral atmosphere of a life self-reliant and self-controlled. Calmness is singleness of purpose, absolute confidence, and conscious power—ready to be focused in an instant to meet any crisis. The Sphinx is not a true type of calmness—petrifaction is not calmness; it is death, the silencing of all the energies; while no one lives his life more fully, more intensely and more consciously than the man who is calm.The Fatalist is not calm. He is the coward slave of his environment, hopelessly surrendering to his present condition, recklessly indifferent to his future. He accepts his life as a rudderless ship, drifting on the ocean of time. He has no compass, no chart, no known port to which he is sailing. His self-confessed inferiority to all nature is shown in his existence of constant surrender. It is not—calmness.Theman who is calm has his course in life clearly marked on his chart. His hand is ever on the helm. Storm, fog, night, tempest, danger, hidden reefs— he is ever prepared and ready for them. He is made calm and serene by the realization that in these crises of his voyage he needs a clear mind and a cool head; that he has naught to do but to do each day the best he can by the light he has; that he will never flinch nor falter for a moment; that, though he may have to tack and leave his course for a time, he will never drift, he will get back into the true channel, he will keep ever headed toward his harbor. When he will reach it, how he will reach it matters not to him. He rests in calmness, knowing he has done his best. If his best seem to be overthrown or over-ruled, then he must still bow his head—in calmness. To no man is permitted to know the future of his life, the finality. God commits to man ever only new beginnings, new wisdom, and new days to use to the best of his knowledge.

Calmness comes ever from within. It is the peace and restfulness of the depths of our nature. The fury of storm and of wind agitate only the surface of the sea; they can penetrate only two or three hundred feet—below that is the calm, unruffled deep. To be ready for the great crises of life we must learn serenity in our daily living. Calmness is the crown of self-control.

When the worries and cares of the day fret you, and begin to wear upon you, and you chafe under the friction—be calm. Stop, rest for a moment, and let calmness and peace assert themselves. If you let these irritating outside influences get the better of you, you are confessing your inferiority to them, by permitting them to dominate you. Study the disturbing elements, each by itself, bring all the will-power of your nature to bear upon them, and you will find that they will, one by one, melt into nothingness, like vapors fading before the sun. The glow of calmness that will then pervade your mind, the tingling sensation of an inflow of new strength, may be to you the beginning of the revelation of the supreme calmness that is possible for you. Then, in some great hour of your life, when you stand face to face with some awful trial, when the structure of your ambition and life-work crumbles in a moment, you will be brave. You can then fold your arms calmly, look out undismayed and undaunted upon the ashes of your hope, upon the wreck of what you have faithfully built, and with brave heart and unfaltering voice you may say: “So let it be—I will build again.”

When the tongue of malice and slander, the persecution of inferiority, tempts you for just a moment to retaliate, when for an instant you forget yourself so far as to hunger for revenge—be calm. When the grey heron is pursued by its enemy, the eagle, it does not run to escape; it remains calm, takes a dignified stand, and waits quietly, facing the enemy unmoved. With the terrific force with which the eagle makes its attack, the boasted king of birds is often impaled and run through on the quiet, lance-like bill of the heron. The means that man takes to kill another’s character becomes suicide of his own

When man has developed the spirit of Calmness until it becomes so absolutely part of him that his very presence radiates it, he has made great progress in life. Calmness cannot be acquired of itself and by itself; it must come as the culmination of a series of virtues. What the world needs and what individuals need is a higher standard of living, a great realizing sense of the privilege and dignity of life, a higher and nobler conception of individuality.

With this great sense of calmness permeating an individual, man becomes able to retire more into himself, away from the noise, the confusion and strife of the world, which come to his ears only as faint, far-off rumblings, or as the tumult of the life of a city heard only as a buzzing hum by the man in a balloon.

The man who is calm does not selfishly isolate himself from the world, for he is intensely interested in all that concerns the welfare of humanity. His calmness is but a Holy of Holies into which he can retire from the world to get strength to live in the world. He realizes that the full glory of individuality, the crowning of his self-control is—the majesty of calmness.

Beamer and the New Moon: A Monologue


Do you think when the astronauts went to the moon it was full? I mean, if it wasn’t, I mean, if it was like a crescent moon or three-quarters, do you think that would have made it more difficult? Like, to land? And what if it was a new moon! When there is no moon in the sky. That would have really sucked, right? “Houston, deploying the landing gear. Wait? There’s no moon!” Now that would have been a problem. A big fuckin’ problem. They would have just kept going into space. Into the void, onwards and upwards. Towards the stars, possibly a black hole. That would have sucked. But only if it was a new moon. Man.

Who Says the Bunny Can’t Jam?: An Old Song

This is the earliest song I can remember writing and it has always stuck with me through the years. I am both amazed and happy that I have never forgotten it.


Who says the Bunny can’t jam? 

Mr. Fox says the Bunny can’t jam. 

So Mr. Fox and the Bunny took a race in the dunny. 

The first obstacle was the toilet, 

Mr. Bunny jumped over with great ease, 

But Mr. Fox, Oh no, his tail got caught, 

So Mr. Bunny jumped up and flushed him down.