idiot savant 2 untitled

I have awoke conciously. Still strapped to this inferior makeshift wooden bed. The women have taken me hostage. I helped trained them and they have coup dtat my sorry ass. I can't blame all of it however. I went from zero to sexify in the first 5 months on the island. Has it been 5 months already? Who knows? I'm going to break the fourth wall and ask you what you think. And all I hear is silence and cries from the babies goo goo ga gas. I figured they took all they needed but the still haven't let me untangle myself. The Queen hierachy is over but then again, no one pays attention to me except a woman in her early 20s. She is my ink i need to get back to the outside island. I shall call her Octopus. My octopus. Sounds so sweet doesn't it. I don't understand what she's saying half the time so i just nod my head and smile and she just talks and talks. In my mind she's talking about another island, but most likely it's about her Apple iPhone she got from the cessna. It got smashed when she was playing volleyball. See, the island caters to the female pursuasion. I ask Octopus to loosen my hand threads and she does so. She is fertile and asks me if we could, ya know. And for once in the first time in my life I say no. The sun is hot today. I bite through my restraints and my hands are free and she helps me untie my legs. I begin to stand up, but fail miserably. I need to grab onto the desk to help me regain my balance. My hands miraculously work when she pours me a handful of nuts. I wonder if there's a teevee to watch the baseball game on. All I can hear in my mind is slider and breaking ball. But no, these are just voices in my head. I step out of the hut and it hits me. I can swim back. Swim back, or die trying. There's a buzzard circling my hut and it just annoys me.

dream

has this dream stopped? Is it over for me now, left in the barracks of my fortress of solitude. Where can I live free? They yell at me from car's. "It's over bitch". And i nod and smile. There's nothing in the world that can predict my future. I've been a hedonist for too long. Can anyone dream with me?

more anew

“You get off often?” Sasha asked. “You know, ride the elevator often. I prefer taking the stairs but who knows these days with so many people being robbed in their own homes, pure habdasharry.”

“It's quite silly really when you think of it,” Mik agreed. “Even in our homes we are no longer safe from the vile intruder with his eyes only on gold and silver and diamonds and roubles. What would you prefer in life? To live in fear, or die in peace? That is the ultimate question, really, if you really think of it.”

“I don't prefer to think at all. I find that once I start to think I get lost in my own mind. In that vortex of space and time. Don't make me start, oh lord.” Sasha smiled. “I really shouldn't. Now you say we should stop for a cup of coffee. I'll take you up on that offer, young sir!”

The elevator arrived at the ground floor and I held the door for her. She walked passed and brushed her hair into my face, that smell! Oh god that aroma. The life in my body went to my crouch and my eyes fluttered. I lost circul atory ability in my brain and I could only taste salt and vingar crisps. The hairs on the back of my neck went clockwise. My hands began to shake and drool formed a pool at the corner of my lips. My toes reached upwards and my heel buried deep into the concrete.

And then it was over. She walked passed me and twirled showcasing her one piece vintage moomoo. Well I call it a moomoo but I think the proper term for the outwit we be au couture. Blah! What the hell is such a thing? I've heard of one pieces and two, but I don't know the other “accessories” if understand me mutually. Finally, we have come to our d'accord, our end of conversation at this point for now I must keep fully ascertain to the young woman before I can muster up enough gusto to have another one of these rendevous we keep adjoining ourselves with.

“Where were we?” I asked.

“Just pitter-patter small talk. You say you prefer La Cafe over Americano? Each has their own uniqueness to their essence. I like the patio at La Cafe, but I also like a strong man who can make a decision for themselves and choose a patio, even if it isn't the preferred choice by a date. Are you that man? Or are you just another boy?”

“I'm an atheist, ma'am.” Mik replied.

lather fin

Shelbs looks ecstatic but she doesn't speak to me.  She just looks at me and I see Cass in a chair with the lather bar imprints on her. She's not scared and I get the sunblock out of my tote bag. I tell Shelbs to put this moisturizer on the affected area ever three times during the day. This isn't the Shelby I know though, this is someone else. Someone i can't even explain. She's quiet. It's odd, and I wonder why. I ask her a question and she just nods her head gently. No words, nothing. I leave both of them and decide to continue to find survivors who aren't lathes. My idea is to stay close to the side streets. Avoiding any traffic that is oncoming. The side streets are beautiful and i remember the life I had in the farm town growing up. Such peace and tranquillity. I could stay here for hours, but the final deadline is at 10 tonight. That gives me three hours to finish what I started, and that is to save the human race, or at least New York if I can. Then the idea is decided by a purely conscious thought. But, it won't work...it's too intense. There are too many affected and I can't save them all, so I wander the streets looking for the lathers, or peelers is the new name I created for these entities. It hasn't gone national yet, since most of the marketing division decided to test a large scale are first and then go from there. Europe and Asia are the next areas, but after I am done this story I can live my normal life again. There are no reporters with cameras, they have all been paid off substantially. No one in the streets yet, but once the lather kicks in and the drug in it begins to accumulate, lathes would be everywhere. I'm afraid to even get to that point where you don't know who your working for anymore. Am I freelance now? Is there more behind the lathes? I need a scientist, a sociologist, a botanist and someone who has accessed to weapons on at an easy access. I go to the nearest university and figure that if I need these sources, it would be the best place to start searching. The campus is too far to walk to and I find a motorcycle crashed upright into a Tiffany jewellery store just a mile away. The key is still in the ignition and I am lucky it is. So i get on the motorcycle and the engine turns. I'm off to the university.

The campus seems untouched by the lather. They must have decoded my message from my last report. The columns had the answer, a word search answer for alarm. The code was there. I found the scientist, the botanist and the sociologist but most students were anti-NRA. I didn't even know if these lathes had any soul left in them, but they wouldn't attack me, so I figured I didn't need the guns anyways.

We took a private room in the school dorm and I briefed everyone on the situation. The scientist and botanist worked together and then finally I could talk to a sociologist. I had my own issues from what was happening to my family and I figured a man like this could be of assistance. Chad knew a bit about Freud and studies, but he truly loved talking about statistics, so i went with it. I told him the number of products sold and how on average would have actually succumbed to the latheing process.

“It grows from the cells that reproduce, usually the X or Y chromosome, but it's mutated into something irregular, bringing a knew gene I don't, or can't even have a word for it.”

He was right, we're screwed. The Botanist appeared with vials and vials of plantlife, saying that this is the ignition for the anti lather. The Scientist appears too with a faster acitng vial of similar plantlife, but it works faster. This all seems too surreal for me, but I let the knowledge surpass my criticism.

I leave the university with vials of this new antidote and I feel pretty well off having these antidotes with me. I stop in front of the hotel, er, lab that was housing my daughter and wife. Shelbs is comatose on the couch, too much alcohol and cocaine. And then my daughter is there, twitching, I'm afraid. So, I take a vial and she drinks it and it takes about 30 minutes to react. I sit in the room and just stare, stare at the walls, the ceiling, the floor. I just be. I fall asleep on the floor and when I wake up Cass is cured. No more blotches or dry skin.

I'm on the street and handing out vials of those nearby. Those who are at stage 2-3, they have the better chance of surviving the epidemic with the vials. There's people crawling on the floor, trying to prop themselves up on anything that can be used as a stool or table. LabTech has already reached level 5 for these lathes. Nothing could really save them now. Something that could help them rid the pain themselves would be okay. But we're not ready for that.

I hand out about 20 antidote and by splicing the mitochondria it will save upwards of 90-100 lives. All I can afford today until the rest of the antidote is made. The Scientist and Botanist are working very delicately on the work. And sociologist is admiring the numbers and where the most population occurs via distribution of the lather console. The team works perfectly.

Everything is working as planned and the survivors are healing quickly. Everything the epidemic is now over. There is no need for antidote, so we just let the university discover the periodic tables for what the lather is made from etc.

There hasn't been an outbreak in over a year for lather and we are grateful for that. The only problem is, that some of the early manufacturers have lather in their warehouses somewhere.

Me and my family are together and we are in a fancy restaurant downtown and I leave to go to the washroom. I do my thing and press the soap out and wash my hands. I look over at the soap dispenser and I almost faint. Labtech Lavender lather, from before the outbreak, and now I'm the only one infected. I am now a lathe. I am now a product of consumerism and the helms of the big threes grasp. My fingers fall off.

END

thanks

I'd like to thank the following people:

Istvan Kovacs
Sebastien Booth
Tina Kovacs
Walter Kaufmann
Dave and Kim Ireland
the team at 4UPoker
and all the WPTL friends I made over the years

I hope it was beautiful


Giordan

bull market

if you want some advice, take the bull market

i sense good things

breaking the fourth wall

once upon a time (MYTHOS), there was a turtle and a hare. The two of them were much different. the hare had nice woolly fur and the turtle has a hard shell covering his body. they were in a certain situation which involved both gentlemen. an amazing race no doubt. t. The turtle had a cake for lunch and the hare coughed up a hairball. what a funtastical group of racers put in a game for all. There was a pigeon, a cat, a pig and a dog. The race was one of knowledge, not speed and the wily lil hare still coughed up his hairball. The pig plucked his tail and the pigeon just went in circles. The dog just howled at the moon and the turtle sang a miley cyrus song. Finally, the announcer declared that the race was on and that each animal should go to their post.

They were ready to go. And all of them stopped and looked at the reader of the novel. This book is about you joining the activities that we all forgot about. The running, the jumping, and the fun it is to be outside with your fictional farm house friends.

atoms

if there is any individual action, it occurs simultaneously through a medium which went the actions and gratifications that must coincide with one another with a brief bond of togetherness actions, splicing neurons to meet a full anatomically spouse, if there ever is one. four neurons combusting to create 2 full atoms, through genetic splicing. two perfect beings, born from the same womb at different intervals, one genetically one male, one genetically female, or both simulated as "others".

i do not know if this makes sense but i will figure it out in the fall months

food ad

ya see,
back in my day
we didn't have gluten free
or GMOs
our food came fresh from the source
cut by the beef butcher
chickens plucked
and i was raised on the dairy

now that times have changed you can expect the same quality of _______ foods to keep your household fresh and well formed.

Our food is our livelihood
Our quality lives for you

__________, always.

jack and lois

aesthetically astounding
forever unique
the food is magnificent
satisfy an appetite complete

have a cigar

In the middle of the corp unit
i wrote a song she loved
i never saw her again
but i knew i was in love

what that song sung
let me try and remember
oh it goes like this
bear with me please

"the battle around us
the love i have
could hold 25 tanks
at the victory banks
i wave goodbye
don't know if you saw
my lady she's on port
my lady she don't wave back
like i never saw her
nor did she see me
it was the fall of september
autumns eve
my weapon in hand
my team at my back
ready to expect the unknown
ready to expect anything
but nothing came
and i love her"

i wrote this in the bunkers of Normandy in my blood
she never could open it, it forever was lost
what a tragic tale, she probably found someone new
dementia at my age, hell, a cuban cigar would do

pitch three

Playing rugby is a dangerous sport. Especially if your team is half demented and ego maniacal. They are head of the league, but something is still not right. The coach is videotaping every game and has the surefire way to win each and every game. The vice coach is a teacher, bent on teaching kids the education of the game. And then there's the team of misfits and slackers. Stuck playing against the undead that doesn't feel pain. Rugby. When your last chance happens, you better play scrum.

Lafayette

Laying down in Lafayette square
counting all the misfortunes i had there
the crows in the sky squawk madness
i couldn't be in  a better place

the chime of  Medusa's bell
woke me up at a half past twelve
the city roars with excitement
and i'm just laying there, laying there

watching my feet move through the grass
there is no anthem for this day pass
Lafayette is opening it's doors
and i'm just laying there, laying there

come together, all people
come with each other now
the sky is blue like the water
and guess what, i'm just laying there.

watching the tvs through the glass window
i see myself in the reflection
laying there, in despair
and i'm just laying there, laying there

hell, someone asks me for a cigarette
i said no, then i gave him a lecture on Qs
he stopped asking for cigarettes that day
and i'm just laying there, laying there

my concentration is fully aware
i sit on the melancholy doorsteps
still wondering, how the hell i got there
and i'm just laying there, laying there

come together, all people
come with each other now
the sky is blue like the water
and guess what i'm just sinking, just sinking
laddy loo

Gg

superhero

Deep in the throes of a vanquished city, rise a group of valiant soldiers who choose to save what is left of the remaining decay of what was once Labamel. These 4 individuals choose to risk their lives everyday to save the core of the town. These people are heroes.

Judgement- a strong, man whose only weakness is his hands he lost function of in the great fire of early ages. He is noble, loyal and he has the final decision on all accounts. He is the boss.

Undercover as a fry chef, Tina 1-2-3, uses her vast amount of verbal skills to persuade any enforcer who stands in her way. She falls in love too easy and that's her main downfall.

Leef- knows more about anything but he never speaks, or leaves his room. He is the guard of the fort, and if any strikes should occur he would detain and lock down the fort just in case. He is the protector.

Then there's Lip, rummaging through peoples trash to find a clue of his existence. He found a lottery ticket once and it funded the fort and many different organizations to get kids off the boulevard and to affordable safe housing.

Finally, but not last, the man in the streets, in the shadows, name unknown, he is the enforcer of the team.

Lets just start off, my book authenticity has been jeopardized. There maybe a circulation of them that i dont know know of yet.

By ruining my dreams she has made me long gone. I'm stuck in this house, doing fuck all and trying make something out of my life but i can't. Everyone hates me. They probably should but i'm doing this for you Hamilton. I want to save you, we can make art the new steel. We can rise up and take back the streets that were so caved into depravity.  These  are just ideas. Instead of catering to just a unique few, the believe in you fund should help those almost peaking into their individuality. My life sucks, but I want to see you happy Hamilton. I want to see a place where Sarcoa caters to an immense crowd of musicians, novelists and the students who are always wishing to learn to improve themselves. And the ones who need help get the proper treatment. I think they did a terrible job developing West 5th. There's no more room to grow the building, it's only centred to parking lots and shrubbery. There's no room for expansion and they should turn the auditorium into a locally owned theatre company ala Theatre Aquarius. I need help to get out of this place. This is my SOS..

more lather

The suburbs are filled with families using soap and the news media covers the story. The soap is good they say. Worth every penny and they'll give you a membership card if you pay them enough. Almost like a platinum card with no real worth to it. The lawyers who could defend the case are lathering themselves and so are the doctors. It won't become an epidemic until the process completes itself and the full time period has passed it's point. My skype rings.

I adjust the screen and I see beautiful Shelby. There still in the same hotel.

“Hi babe, guess what?” Shelbs smiles.

I laugh, “what?”

“We got it, Cass has been using that soap you've been promoting,” my heart drops and I want to yell but they are watching my Skype as well and I cannot give out information.

“Remember, that time we talked about the codes I was learning while I was writing about the silent film stars.”

“Yeah,” she stops to think, “let me get a piece of paper.”

She sits back down and I begin blinking.

Three blinks for stop, four slow winks for soap.

Shelby looks at me through skype with her eyes widening.

Cassandra enters the room in a towel “Hi dad.”

I can't help but look away, the skin on her shoulders are beginning to peel from the soap.

Then the computer shuts down. And there's a knock at the pod. The door slides open and it Roman, his hands have turned into pieces of filet mignon and dripping blood. He looks down at his belt and there is a gun in it.

“Shoot me now, you son of a bitch,” he demands. I take the gun out of his pants and theres a silencer on it. “Do it you bastard?” I can't kill a man,  even though he will be in much more pain if I don't. I close my eyes and the gun fires. Missing him completely. There was only one bullet in the gun. And Roman just stood there, blinking. His eyes starting to ooze and you can see the soap, the harbinger, crawling through his body like a tapeworm. He could only mutter words together and form unintelligible sentences.  This is going to happen to my daughter as well as the general public. If only they waited, they could be saved but the corporation's numbers were more important. Now we've turned into statistics rather than individuals. Quantity rather than quality, field mice in the maze of an unknown atmosphere. And Roman just sits there, staring at me with his eyesocket gauged out of his eye. Attached to some sort of blue vein,gushing cottage cheese out of his nose, ears and mouth. I go to hold him but its too late. He's a pile of purple cabbage in my pod. He must have been one of the first test subjects. Soon Cass will turn into goop. Not unless I can figure out a way to stop this madness. There must be something in this lab that can reverse the effects, maybe a moisturizer of some sort. Eureka! That would be the only particle agent that could save her. And maybe the rest of the world.

I left the pod, stepping over Roman's remains, and see Nosferatu wandering the halls. He's not even wandering, he's hovering with his bald head doing surveillance of the facility. He can smell me, I know, but I got to make it to the third floor. My keycard must still have access to it and if not, then I don't know what I can do. And it works, the third floor access key is still valid. I walk through the sliding doors and it's already a set. A hotel room set and all there's one door with three symbols on it. The same as the numbers on the test subjects. I bang on the door and I hear a voice inside and from behind me. Behind me is a security guard, tough faced, poulou esque and ready to fight. He pulls a knife and I see myself in danger. It's another level. I kick the knife out of his hand and it turns to organisms that scatter down the corridor. He starts to choke me and I fall ill to the floor in seizures. What kind of witchcraft is this? I swipe my leg into his ankles and he stumbles a bit and falls to the floor beside me. Then he stands back up and I run to tackle him but it turns into dust and he's once again behind me.  This Poulou motherfucker thinks he's got me now doesn't he? I spin and throw another punch. More dust. I start to cough and try not to breath it in. Once more we go back and forth trying to beat each other down and the man becomes nothingness after my other limbs attack him. The sand scurries away back to where I entered. There's a pod door with a note on it. Something Lutherian. I don't study much anymore.  The note is a room service list and i bang on the door and the pod slides open. Shelbs has answered the pod. So has Cass but she is far in the back, dry skinned and peeling already. I only have enough antidote to cure one person and this is where it gets difficult. Should I save my only daughter or mass produce this antidote? This is the inciting force. Lose one to save millions. She's my only one for godsakes. I could never live without her. I'd shoot myself first before hurting her.  The problem is ethics. Just like those scientists, they knew it was ethically wrong after the first subject, but they still continued on Boss's orders. I can't think like this. There has to be more antidote in the lab somewhere, but the way this place evolves, who knows what corridor I'll end up in next. I could be on the moon for all I know. I can help her survive the next 24 hours and still have enough to make it viable before the early stages. I saw Cass for the first time after her initial lather. Her shoulders were peeling and i could already see the tissue dissolving. I told Shelbs to ensure that she falls asleep, since it will restore some of the lost tissue cells. The sunblock esqe was a jell like substance And Shelbs began to lather the gelly onto Cass's shoulders. This could be the only antidote left in the building to cure what is happening on the outside of my pod, in the world pod-into-world. The skyphone shuts off and I'm back to square one again. There seems to be no hope for the human race if this lather is being distributed in massively and I'm the only one left with any sense of virtue left in my being, my soul, my spirit. I go into the empty labs and stock my notebag with this substance. The I see Frank. He's off in his own world and I don't bug with him, I leave as soon as possible. I break through the side door, it turns into a sticky substance on the ground and it engorges me like quicksand. I manage to find some asphalt and push myself up out of the mess. Now I'm the only one who hasn't lathered in NYC, or at least a fair amount of survivors. The pod doesn't matter anymore, the real message was on the tape recorder and my daughter may or may not be one of the lathes. That's what we call the users now, lathes. The moan in the streets out of pain and I wish I could help them but I just can't not all of them because there just too many. I climb a tree and see a distorted vision of my family in the window. Is it really them? Have my journalistic skills brought me closer to madness? Shelbs waves and I wave back, it's them, I'm not blind yet. Maybe deaf and dumb but not blind. I climb the branches to the window and they open it gently. Is this a dream? Am I going to wake up back in the pod again, with Roman knocking on my door?

loft

I'm sitting in the Loft enjoying a glass of white chardonney. Why am I here i wonder? Why does it matter? She's looking for boarding passes and i'm stuck on this donkey machine. What else can I say? I'm a man of wisdom yet madness. You probably won't understand until i'm six feet under but at least i can say i tried. I tried to do the best i could to be the best son in the world, but i lost him. My father, my aunt, my own. Who do I talk to? Who can i trust anymore? This fear and loathing has encumbered my soul. Seek asylum, fly a cane, eat the medicine, goodbye old pain. I'm going to the rock show on Saturday. Seek refuge from a friend. Am I alone in this world? Why can't i connect? All i have been thinking is bleep boops and bee bops and philosopy and resuming. The life I can live without the pressure, without the pain. I am stronger than that, i fulfill your appetite of knowledge. The people around me are jesterly finding ways to let loose & enjoy themselves. I want to start a conversation but the words whimper into a tiny hush. Is this the end to zombie Shakespeare? Lets hope not or else i'll find the bastards and show them my lazerreto, my home.

relatively of nature

The relatively of nature occurs once the inhabitant leaves the quote un quote nest home. Once leaving the secure location of a nurture setting, the outside world seems to be delusion to the inhabitants around said world. We are heaven on Earth. What that means is that we all are a part of  a grid that spirits travel through. These spirits show themselves only once in a while. For instance, you watch a television show and a character is in form of the medium. The medium transfers energy to the viewer and everything that viewer has cultivated seeing has become a part of that person's world. I know its a tough concept to grasp but it makes sense once analyzed in the proper fashion. It's just one glimpse into individual perception and how we experience the world.
 

Define audience, that's a good question. We're all apart of a group of people who are being advertised to constantly during the day, at night, on teevee, in our homes. Yet we just accept it as everyday life and that brand power really does make a difference. On the bus, a man wears a teeshirt with a crest on the breast side. What does it say, you wonder. and then you see it and it explains a product or service. Abercrombie and Fitch puts all their names on their clothing to mass advertise what the company wants you to think through perception. Even on the bus we see this an its just clothes but its so much more than that. It's viewing a message that big business wants you to see so it get recognized and can sell more of their products.