Saturday, February 04, 2017


I lived in a small cottage in Chautauqua Park, Colorado.
The Park was located just below the Boulder Flatirons.

One afternoon I decided to take a nap on the mountain close to my cabin.
I thought how peaceful and quiet it would be, and how I would relax on my day off from my job as a dishwasher.

I plopped myself down on the dry but soft meadow grass.
Ahh,” I said to myself. “Peace and quiet.”

Just then I heard sirens down below in the city of Boulder, and I thought to myself:
Good. I'm up here and the noise is down there.”

But the sirens did not stop.
In fact, the sound of the sirens got closer and closer.
Then fire trucks began steaming up the mountain.
Oh my gosh!
A fire is up here on the mountain”, I said to myself.

People came running from their cottages.
They were bringing shovels and and other objects to help put out the fire.
I quickly ran to my cottage and got my own shovel.
But by then the fire had been brought under control by the firefighters.
I returned to my cottage to relax from all of the excitement.


Tuesday, January 31, 2017


I looked into my mirror, and I saw myself as I looked millions of years ago.
Yes, I saw myself.
It was frightening.
I was shocked to learn that way back then I wouldn't have had an anus.
Actually, that's good news.
I wish it were true today.
I'm tired of pooping all of the time.


Sunday, January 22, 2017


I was the dishwasher at a small Mexican restaurant.
This restaurant made excellent cheese enchiladas and chile verde.
The secret was in the sauces.
These “secret” recipes came from the parents of the owner’s wife Suzy.
Rafael was the owner.
Ralph told me that he was once offered a million dollars for these secret recipes.

I began my mornings at the restaurant by shredding a couple boxes of lettuce.
While I shredded lettuce, two of the owner’s cousins and a waitress were doing other things.
Rafael usually arrived an hour or so after our arrival.
Paula was the name of the waitress.
Jesse and Jesus were the two cousins.

Jesse, a former boxer, was the older of the two cousins.
Jesse liked to drink, and he did so every night.
Consequently, he was groggy and slow-moving in the mornings, but always good-humored.

One morning while I was shredding lettuce there was a loud explosion.
I saw red (bean) steam roiling from the kitchen, and cousin Jesse was “roiling” in the same path as the red steam, screaming that he was burning from hot steam that had just issued from the exploding pot.
The larger of two bean pots exploded because its safety valve couldn’t open.
The valve couldn’t open because the exhaust fan hood was not high enough for the tall pot and its safety valve to fit under it.

Cousin Jesus had turned off the burner where the big bean pot was sitting, but cousin Jesse had turned the burner back on.
Jesse thought that he had turned the stove burner off, when in fact he had turned the flame back on.
Pressure continued to build and build until the pot exploded.
The top of the big bean pot is what blew off, and it shot like a missile through the exhaust fan hood and through the two-by-four rafters.
The big bean pot had nearly gone through the roof itself.
The roof of the restaurant was lifted, and all of the windows had shattered.
Fortunately, except for Jesse’s third-degree burns, no one was injured.

Pot pan handles were sticking out of stereo speakers.
All the dishes were broken.
Rice and beans plastered the walls.

Right after I had thrown cold water on Jesse’s steaming back---(I had yelled at him to remove his shirt, and when the water hit him he yelled that it was too cold!)---I started looking for Paula, calling out her name,
Where are you?”

I looked up at the ceiling to see if she had gotten stuck there from the explosion, but she was next door at a gas station, calling the fire department.

The restaurant was condemned.

I came in the next day to help clean up the mess, but
I stepped on a big nail, and so couldn’t work any longer.
Ralph the owner was kind enough to go with me to sign the unemployment papers that said I was separated from my employment through no fault of my own.

I returned to the restaurant many years later.
It had been rebuilt and was three times larger than the original.
The chile verde and enchiladas were still quite excellent.

I imagine the bean pots were safer, too.


Wednesday, January 04, 2017


The world could be set to end in October this year, when a giant mysterious planet called Nibiru (artist's impression pictured) collides with our own - according to one conspiracy theorist. Wisconsin-based David Meade, author of the book 'Planet X – The 2017 Arrival', believes a star, which he calls 'a binary twin of our sun' is coming 'at us towards the south pole'. He says the star will bring with it 'seven orbiting bodies', including Nibiru, a large, blue planet that he also refers to as Planet X hurtling towards our planet.

No need to worry about anything or anyone anymore.

The world is going to end this year (AGAIN!) in October.

Hopefully, that's enough time for the e.t.'s to show up and bare their breasts (if the females have breasts.)


Wednesday, October 05, 2016


Whip out that Mexican thing?
What is that?
(No, NOT that)

Two more “debates” remain between Hillary and Donald.
They're not exactly Lincoln-Douglas debates.
More like cat and dog fights.
Or cock fights.

Hillary, no more coughing and feinting.
Donald, no more mocking and tweeting.

This presidential election year should be called Let's Make A Deal:
You show your emails and I'll show my tax returns.
And forget about the size of your hands and that other thing.

Let's hog tie and gag all surrogates for both candidates.
Oh no, that won't happen, because then CNN, MSNBC, FOX NEWS, etc., would go out of business.

Build the damn wall now so Donald will shut up.
(Actually, I'm not for building the great, beautiful wall.)


Monday, October 03, 2016


One night, I dreamed that I flew all the way to Colorado from Kabul to visit my mother.
When I came back to Colorado I told her. 
She said, "I know. I saw you!" 

Of course, I know that dreams last for a very short time, but I swear it took me a good twenty-four hours to get to Colorado from Afghanistan. 

I've never had so many lucid and beautiful dreams as I did in Afghanistan.

 I would wake up at anytime and groggily step to my typewriter, just inches away, and start tapping down my dreams in the darkness and silence of my bedroom, not caring about spelling, just getting out the news of my strange dreams. 
Unfortunately, my dreams and other writings were destroyed when I lived in Juarez. 
Not on purpose.
They were inside a metal chest, covered with plastic; but rain, beautiful rain, found its way into the chest, and macerated my thoughts and dreams.

 I recovered only one old notebook, containing notes from books I've read.

 The other notebooks contained only inky blurs.


Monday, September 19, 2016


One afternoon after my university classes had finished, I drank tea with a volunteer named Gil.

 He didn't socialize much, and I believe it was the only time I spoke with him about anything.

But one time was plenty, and I mean this in a positive sense.

Gil was a very interesting person.

 I found out that he was planning to leave the Peace Corps and head for Turkey.

 He explained the route he would take, mentioning a train up inside Russia.

 I found this amazing. 

Just leave...not say a word to anyone! 

But now I wonder why he told me.

I also thought that he might be a member of an Intelligence agency.

Gil was "translating" Ulysses by James Joyce. 

But the translating was more like interpreting what the heck this novel is about.

 I still haven't finished it.

 I finished Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in a few weeks.

Good luck Gil, wherever you are.