Thursday, December 4th - Unrequited Love

I sit alone in my forest

Nothing but a notebook and a pen

Drawing self portraits to fill the void of no friends

Then you come along and take a look at my art

I though maybe this one's different, maybe time for a new start

So I walk up to make the introduction

You run and scream and force me to abduction

This wasn't the idea, this wasn't the plan

Love is so hard when you're Slender Man

Tuesday, December 2 - CTU

Japan has compromised the whole western seaboard...need...countermeasures...

I hear these words from underneath my pillow fort I have built to sleep in, as is my custom on snow days. I hear my wife having a very badly disguised radio conversation with people from her work. Running water doesn't really mask hissing radios and human talking. You would think all that training at the American Espionage Institute would have taught her that. Anyhow, I cant shake the feeling I probably shouldn't have heard that conversation, but now it has peaked my interest. I relinquish rule over my pillow fort kingdom to my dog Fredrick Douglas as I go snooping. I find her laptop and open it. Password protected. I think for a while and then it suddenly comes to me. Of course, the password couldn't be simpler! I type "brodyisthebestever" into the password bar. Denied. Out of ideas and a little hurt, I see Fredrick Douglas peering at be from inside the feather-stuffed gates of the pillow fort. I squint my eyes at him in thought, and type "fredrickdouglas" into the password bar. Access granted, now back to my super sleuthing. I see a folder on the desktop titled "TOP SECRET" and immediately click it. Inside is a document that spells out the whole situation. Masaya Nakamura, founder of the Japanese organization Nakamura Amusement Machine Manufacturing Company, better known as NAMCO, has been secretly developing in his underground laboratory the next installment of the Pac Man series of arcade machines using the latest in brain control technologies. The first wave of these machines have been unleashed in California, infiltrating every arcade and game pub, players everywhere are coming under the suggestion of the game, causing them to take out their life savings in quarters and play the game until they are all gone. Shocked by this new information, as well as the TASR my wife had to the back of my neck, I regain consciousness an hour later. She left for work and took the laptop with her. Great. Good thing I printed a copy. I walk to the printer and take the paper sitting there. Continuing my reading, it seems there is only one way to defeat this threat and free the people who have already become enslaved by the games. To set them free someone has to find the master game machine in Nakamura's lab and beat the 256th level of the game. I am not trained to break into high tech facilities nor am I trained in espionage or any form of sneakery, but I have seen every James Bond movie a thousand times so I think I am more than qualified. I call my best pal Steven Spielberg, who is also the best Pac Man player in the history of existance.

Hey, ever been to Japan?

Friday, November 21 - Ekphrasis

Man on the Moon
from a ship through the stars
Searching for the answers
to who we really are
Ground of black
painted on a sky of gold
Man stood face to face
with the Creator of old
Disconnecting his oxygen
vapours of steam from the ports
and mix with the atmosphere
Sending red alarms to the bioreport
Man found the one, finally found his home
In a galaxy with beings far beyond our own

Thursday, November 20 - Inside Out

Here I am. Sitting in Creative Writing class, trying to work on my Dreadful Dictionary for the end project of this unit. Only problem is, I have lost all my words.

"You could just make up some new ones," a voice inside my head says.

"I could I suppose..."

"Or you could just not do it at all, think of all the work you put into it and now it's all gone. Its not worth it." Another voice says.

"This is a valid point..."

"What are you thinking?! That't not at all a valid point!"

"This is also true..."

"C'mon, forget working on the project and just play some games!"

"NO, he can't do that, this project needs to be done so he can get a good grade!"

The voices argue back and fourth until a third one chimes in...

"Woah, what is all this noise about?"

"HE thinks Brody should just play games instead of doing his work!"

"He's already lost all his work, c'mon it's ridiculous to have to do it all over again, HE thinks Brody should do it all over again! That's ridiculous!"

"Wait. Have you written that screenplay yet?"

I reply to the third voice.

"Yes..."

"Set your ND filters?"

"Uh huh..."

"Buy your film stock?"

"Yeah..."

"...Is it casted yet?"

"Well no..."

"Okay, make sure you finish up preproduction stuff, then I don't care what you do."

The first voice returns.

"Which will be your work!"

"...Fine."

"Good. Now hurry up and post this blog entry so you can get started."

I finish typing and press "Publish". 

Tuesday, November 18th - Treason

Surprise!!

Giuseppe Marco Fieschi came home to see his friends had thrown him a "congratulations on getting out of prison" surprise party. They all had cake and a grand time, but Giuseppe couldn't get this one thing off his mind.

How could King Louis imprison me like that? After we went to high school together! I broke him out of detention with only a paper clip and a MacGyver rerun! And he just locks me away! Stealing the councilman's checkbook and forging checks into my own account isn't something worth ruining a friendship over!! Banking fraud is not that big a deal!! Ill show him...

A group of Giuseppe's friends walk over and offer him the chance of a lifetime. They plan on assassinating the King, and they want him to do it.

Of course I'll do it! He needs to pay.

Now Giuseppe, this needs to be clean and you need a discreet way of killing him, you need a creative and clever plan to be able to pull this off...

Oh don't worry about that, I'll be super discrete and creative, no one will ever see it coming.

* * *

Giuseppe awaits the king to pass by with his family on his yearly review of the Guard. He looks down at his weapon of choice for assassinating the king. An enormous custom built 25-barrel shotgun.

Nailed it.  He thought.  Total sneaky and stealthy, like a shadow in the night...

The king passed by, this is Giuseppe's chance. He pulls the trigger and unleashes a hellfire of bullets upon the king and surrounding peoples. The massive kick of the 25 shotguns duct tape and krazy-glued together sent Giuseppe flying into the wall, dazed. The enormously impractical and supervillainous contraption killed 18 people, injured 22 more. None of them the royal family. The king was grazed in the forehead by a bullet but not injured. Giuseppe woke up from his daze to see a crowd of people surrounding him looking pretty disgruntled with him. So they put him in a guillotine and hes dead now.

That's what you get Giuseppe.

Moral to the story: If you are going to assassinate someone, don't do it with a ridiculous 25 barreled shotgun.

Friday, November 14th

Franz Gurgenspielheim woke up to a completely ordinary day and walked to his kitchen for some ordinary coffee. He looks at the calendar; November 9, 1989. He walks outside to do his ordinary routine everyday. He walks to the park and sits on the same bench with the same notebook and the same fountain pen. He looks over to the tree he has been admiring for the longest time, and the same little squirrel on one of the branches, and continues his drawing. For a moment he thought of how strange it was that it seemed the squirrel never moved and how the tree never changed with the seasons, but though the idea silly and wrote it off as just him not noticing. He was so focused on his pen strokes, he didn't notice the wrecking ball that smashed through the wall that the tree and squirrel was painted on. When he looked up to take another look at the tree, he saw a man with an equally dumbfounded facial expression as his looking back at him. He saw the man was sitting on a bench, with a notebook and a fountain pen. Looking down at the concrete wall Franz noticed on the other man's side was the same tree with the same squirrel. The two men like reflections of one another stood up and walked toward the newly discovered person. They each looked at the other's notebook, and saw the drawings of the same tree on both of them. Franz looked back at the man and walked back to his bench which he pulled over to the hole in the wall, and the man did the same to his bench. They sat next to each other and shared drawings and stories. The other man was Jorgen Franzheimstien, and every day he woke up to a completely ordinary day and walked to his completely ordinary kitchen for some ordinary coffee. Then he would take the same notebook and the same fountain pen to the same bench to draw the same tree with the same squirrel in the branches. He was too focused on his drawing to notice the wrecking crew smash through the tree, which he now realized was a wall, where he saw a man on a bench just like him, doing the same thing, named Franz Gurgenspielheim. As the two men shared their drawings and stories, they realized that November 9th of 1989 was not just an ordinary day.

Thursday, November 13 - Macabre Art

Emaciated souls in the dying void
The spirits of the damned draw closer
One by one they see the light
And breathe in its breathe of life
So they may continue living singing sullen anthems
Personified misery in the form of a thousand phantoms