To molder and crumble

My Moleskine notebook fills with inane thoughts, words and phrases, silly ideas and stories, eccentric characters, usually as I sit on the light rail or bus as I commute to and from work. Hopefully I won’t start spouting them out loud. On that day, I get off a different stop and check myself in!

Hey!

What?

Shouldn’t you put those crazy thoughts and inane scribblings away somewhere? Maybe filed in a dark corner of your mind to molder and crumble away forgotten?

Can’t do that, that area is overflowing, I have to release them somewhere.

If people see them they might think you’re insane.

That’s what the doctors say.

What doctors?

I don’t know, they never say, they just walk in bedecked in their white coats, scribbling on their clipboards, nodding heads and knowing looks, then leave again. Hey do me a favor?

Sure, what?

Loosen the straps they’re a bit tight.

Dr. Seuss I not

The slim, slam, slap, sloo…

What?

Mind your own it’s nothing to do with you.

Dr. Seuss you’re not.

The glim, glam, glap, glot…

Clever, funny, witty you are not.

See, now you’re doing it!

Ugh!

I be…

I be a poeta; a word slayer, a sooth sayer…

Excuse me?

What?

Are you reciting crap out of your Moleskine notebook again?

Maybe.

A “sooth sayer”, really?

Well, I’m all out of sooth and too shy to say.

I think you’re crazy.

What you’re a doctor now?

No, but come on don’t you think you’re crazy?

I don’t know I’m not a doctor either.

Bob Durangol zombie actor and would be poet

Bob Durangol, zombie, actor, wannabe poet.

Safari **
Small ethereal birds weave patterns upon the sky,

The call of a bull elephant adds to the cacophony of the bush.

Hyenas cackle in response to some inane joke cracked by lazy orangutans;

My head lolls and I awake with a start; as the bus eases up to the stop.

“So professor what do you think?”

“Well, Mr. Dangle —”

“Durangol!”

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Durangol, not Dangle, so professor how was my poem?”

Crazy fiction security guards

Funny how I will see something, have a silly thought, then it morphs into a crazy post for this blog.
INT. NIGHT. BUILDING LOBBY, SECURITY DESK,

Frank Nawbaum, Security Officer sits before the bank of monitors, he opens his lunch box and removes some sandwiches wrapped in wax paper.

CUT TO:

Bill and Ted are patrolling, walking the corridor near the lobby.

TED: So the wife tells me, If you stick that in there, I’ll pull it out and beat you senseless with it.

BILL: Harsh! She doesn’t like to experiment then?

TED: No, she’s old school, one way…

(There is a frantic shout from the lobby.)

FRANK: Holy mother of all things buggered up.

(Bill and Ted spring into action, they tear off down the corridor, Ted pulls out a retractable baton and snaps it open, Bill pulls out his large Maglite flashlight.)

Getting recognized

Him: Do you ever worry about getting recognized?

Me: Sorry? When?

Him: On the bus, don’t you worry someone will recognize you as the author of your blog?

Me: No not really, I tend to get mistaken for Jack Black the actor.

Him: Really? Mmm, not seeing it. But seriously don’t you worry that someone on the bus will read your blog recognize themselves as a subject of one of your posts and get mad? You do have your photo at the tops of your blog.

Me: How would they know me, people on the bus are too busy thinking about getting to work, sleeping, reading to worry about me.