Saturday, November 17, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
(Note: Two years later, Michael Moore made a documentary about the hypocrisy surrounding that night's events; the Holy Ghost let it go until He saw Moore on the O'Reilly Factor promoting the already over-advertised blockbuster)
Ditz: Yeah, well it got us a couple of great psychos for the team, but almost everyone else was deaf and dumb. I think we're just going to use Monster.com from now on.
-No, now please stop asking.
-By the throat.
-With soy sauce.
-Do they double well as calk?
-Right where I want them.
-How much does the government give you, again?
-Can’t I just have their candy instead?
-Well, I’ll give you this: nothing makes such a satisfying “thump” as a toddler taking her first steps off a fifth story window.
-If you get some, we can race them in strollers down the stairs. Best three out of five?
In conclusion: no. None of them are cute, none of them are clever, and yours in particular smells like you aren’t washing it thoroughly enough. I recommend a fire hose.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Suddenly my right side went numb. I couldn't move my hand. I couldn't feel my arm. "Holy shit," I thought. "I've had a stroke." I started to panic. I started to shake. I struggled. I roared. I looked around frantically. Then I realized I hadn't had a stroke. That motherfucker Beowulf had torn off my arm.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The biggest features of this blog are the eponymous Bathroom Monologues: micro-fiction, list-fiction and micro-prose that I've been rattling off since college. Back in college I had no spare time thanks to an ungodly workload, and was afraid that I was losing my creative imagination to the flood of academic papers I had to write. Any time I got up from the computer to use the bathroom, I improvised a narrative on any topic except what I was working on at the time, to keep the independent part of my brain functioning. So if I was studying the Aroostook War, maybe I'd talk to myself about ghosts in tall grass; if I was studying genes in pea plants, maybe I'd talk to myself about conspiracy theories and twinkies. Sometimes I'd time one up when I returned and IM it to a friend. They made enough people laugh that I started putting them online, and we got to this point. I recommend Bathroom Monologuing to anyone, not only writers. It's a fun exercise, and much better than reading the back of a shampoo bottle. I have over a hundred archived ones I'll slowly be putting up on the site, along with fresh ones.
Another thread of the site will follow any of my writing that is picked up by magazines or publishers. I'm always working on a short story (or this enormous quartet of novels...). If you like The Bathroom Monologues, perhaps you'll pick up a copy of my printed work (and perhaps write a letter to the editor saying how life-affirming John Wiswell's story/haiku/essay was, and how you want more of it, and how they should pay him double the normal fee).
Enjoy your stay!