A conversation

Dan and Yuster had a conversation.

'What are you doing?' Asked Dan. 

'Huh?' Replied Yuster. 

And that was it.

Admittedly it wasn't much of a conversation. 

But in other ways it was. As questions literally went unanswered. Questions that were asked in the form of a questions. Questions like 'what are you doing?', what kind of a stupid name is "Yuster", is that like Yugoslavian or something, wait that's not even a country anymore, really makes you think, even things that seem stable, like entire nations, can dissolve, so this moment, this very moment, wow how fleeting, how beautiful, how unscientific, I mean science can't explain how this feels, can you science, CAN YOU?', and 'huh?'

Yep, questions sure were asked.

But in other ways more information was passed than perhaps any conversation could normally possibly pass other than by passing actual information. Yet isn't information that's passed that isn't actual information sometimes even more informative than other types of information, information like finding out that someone wants to know what someone else is doing, and that the someone they want to find out what are doing are too busy doing it to answer, and that obviously the someone who is asking should be able to just visually see what the person that's doing it is doing, especially seeing as this someone is close enough for the other someone to hear them asking that someone a question from the first someone's question asking hole. 

Yep, information sure was passed.

But in other ways an ambiguitous chasm between the polar opposites of information and question asking was exposed to the morning light, unless this was the afternoon, or not in an area lit with light, I mean we never found out when or where this happened, it could have been somewhere like Northern Norway where it could have been dark all day or light or night, I mean who knows, and no question was posed about it, and no information independently given, and no hieroglyphics were left behind to interpret, obviously this is no Yugoslavia, we sure are ambiguous about that. 

Yep, ambiguity chasms sure were tasked . 

So there you have it, Dan and Yuster had a conversation, and seconds later their entire universes were altered forever. 

Oh I should point out that Dan and Yuster are sperms, and this conversation took place moments before they were shot into Charlottes vaginal passage. 

Also I should point out that it totally turns out her husband's experiments with the microwave and cans of the sludge he found in the river ARE why they can't seem to get pregnant. 

The wall

He climbed on the wall. 

The wall made of brick.

The brick made of dung.

The dung made of left over Thai.

The left over Thai made from a variety of traditional ingredients native to its creators homeland.

The homeland being Thailand.

Thailand being the country in Asia occupied and managed by the Thai people, although at various times the area her ancestors came from was occupied by the Dutch, The Nippon Empire, The Ottoman Empire, The Sofa Empire (zing), the Germans (but only in their minds) The Thaisoils (a small group who rose up and took the nation briefly after realizing that technically if you buy 'land' it doesn't include the 'soil' on said land, which made them worriedly worry that Thailand didn't own his own soil), and the Chinese who realized Thailand at one point only owned their soil, so took the rest. 

The homeland made from tradition, gumption and a a remarkable ability to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

The gumption made from patriotism. 

The patriotism made from lack of anything else to believe in. 

The lack of anything else to believe in made from history teachers lacking the ability to really inspire kids with their nations own history.  

The teachers made from made from broken up wall segments! 

By which I mean he tried to see if he could blow himself and cracked a rib, but told everyone he fell off a wall. Most people believed him, but I for one thought his explanation wasn't detailed enough. 

Misinterpreted

I bet the first person who took a leaf out of some else's book was all like...

'Well that was completely awesome, and just think, all I had to do was meet a stranger, spend a considerable amount of time, effort and even listening time earning his trust, then immediately breaking that guy's trust by stealing his keys, and then using them to get into his house, before then discovering that he didn't keep the keys to his bookshelf on the same set as the keys to his house, so returning the keys to him, pretending I'd just 'found them' even though that was illogical given that the place I claimed to find them was somewhere he'd never been, and yet insisting that I was now a hero, and that the baseball cap I'd left on his kitchen bench 'wasn't mine' even though it was the same as the one I wore all the time and suddenly stopped wearing around the time this 'other' baseball cap was strangely found in his house, yet still somehow re-earning his trust, enough so that I could find out that he kept the keys to his bookshelf in security box at the bank, then carefully, over a period of years, randomly getting silicone putty on various parts of his face, and peeling it off and keeping it, so to piece together a 3D jigsaw puzzle style a mould of his face, to use to ultimately create flawless prosthetics allowing me to look exactly like him, to imitate him at the bank, only to find out that his security box was protected by a series of very personal security questions, requiring me to pursue a torrid affair with his father, which was very difficult as neither of us were gay, requiring levels of seduction skills I never previously dared even imagine I had, which once discovered and engaged could be put to far more enticing explorations of the flesh game than banging this old man, but the option of starting an affair with his mother was tragically unavailable due to his mother being dead, and seven months in, after a passionate yet confusing love making session, using the vulnerability of post coital pillow talk to finally unlock the secret that the man had a scar on his forehead as a result of 'a bike accident', realizing I possibly could have skipped this step by just asking him how he got his scar, but knowing that doing so would have exposed me to potentially answering the question of how I got my own scar, which was from a skateboard accident, and could have totally undermined the trust I'd developed this whole time through a discovery of a lacking identical preferences when it came to childhood modes of fun self-propelled getting around in a transportation method scenario options, although I probably could have lied and also said a 'bike accident', but perhaps uncomfortable gay sex with a now very confused elderly man was less messy, and now once again donning my prosthetics, stealing that bookshelf key from the security box, then once again breaking into his house, this time sans baseball cap for safety, then unlocking the bookshelf, while thinking 'that's funny, it's only now that I realize that it's unusual for someone to lock their bookshelf', then thinking 'meh, maybe it's not that unusual, books are ace, and now I can TOTALLY read books I don't even own! Suck on that library and your disgusting "two forms of ID required to get a library card" rule, which is just stupid, unless a credit card can be the second type of ID, which makes sense, we all have a credit card and a license, I probably should have asked? Come to think of it do you even need a card to just look through the books?', then thinking 'meh, I don't need a card to look through THESE books', then flicking through a bunch of books, thinking 'meh, lots of sci-fi, I'm more of a cop drama guy', but then randomly finding a leaf in one, wondering 'why the hell is there a leaf in this?', pondering the question 'who cares why?', coming to the conclusion 'well I do', searching for meaning in that enlightening realization, discovering that this meaning was probably that the leaf mattered to him, hence keeping it in a book in a locked bookshelf, then realizing 'meh, that's stupid, if it mattered he'd probably have kept it in the security box at the bank, and therefore it clearly does NOT matter to him', then concluding 'meh, if it doesn't matter to him then it could be MINE', then adding 'I should stop all my ponders beginning with "meh" it undermines just how amazing some of my thoughts are, like this one, cause like I'm TOTALLY about to get myself a leaf, that's awesome!', and realizing 'that's normally not easy, you have to convince a tree to give you a leaf, which can be difficult because it's part of their body and like as if you'd give a tree a finger, or even a toe if it asked, or else just stealing a leaf from a tree, which is mean, I mean you'd hate it if tree stole a finger or even a toe from you, but right now I'm getting a leaf, a free leaf, this is badass, I'm totally taking a leaf out of someone else's book!' 

Then I bet he was all like 'yep that was TOTALLY worth it, I got a free leaf! I just hope that eventually that people don't think by this I'm telling them that I copied some lame cliche self improvement goal'.

Yep being the first to do something kicks ass. I just wish I too had the ability to distinctly and precisely detail how I thought about it so I too don't have my actions misinterpreted. 

First draft of first ancient Chinese proverb

'You can't spit monkey faeces at a monkey faeces testing lab without first thinking... What really IS a lab?'

Wait, have abbreviations been invented yet? If not I should totally invent those too, they could be one of the 'things' we end up getting known for!

Although if we do shouldn't this piece of wisdom be a tad shorter? I really think these wisdom sayings could be a 'thing' for us also. 

Wow, am I about to begin two well known ancient Chinese 'things'? I'm a fucking genius. No one will EVER forget me. That'll stick it up those bullies from school, by which I mean that one time the hobo down by the river tried to explain, amongst other things, why our written language is, and will always be, the best and most perfect way to read and write in every corner of the world for all time.

So yeah, suck on that bullies. That means screw you Lee, and all your 'burns' on my wrist, which hurt like shit. Although lame name by the way, needs something else or they'll end up catching on and being named 'Lee Burns' and your ENTIRE family will be disparaged for generations. 

And that means you too Confucius, I totally saw you looking over my shoulder and copying during the hobos pop-quiz on reasons why you should wash your soiled undergarments upstream even if fair young maidens are frolicking naked down stream, every answer was the same anyway you douche 'because fair young maidens NEVER go for hobos'. 

Anyway, you can't copy this, I'm going to write it up on a scroll, and, ha ha, you can't copy something hidden within two layers of gently rolled rice paper!!! And besides, if you try I'll totally spit monkey faeces in your face!  

Wait 'spit' monkey faeces? Something doesn't sound right about that. Oh well, it doesn't matter, I invented these things, and the inventor ALWAYS gets the credit even if it's not perfect right away. Just ask Rogerston Wheel down in rice paddy seventeen who invented the slowly catching on Rogerston Food Pick Up Stick. He's onto some weird rubber oval thing now too. 

Fuck, that's right, there are folks inventing shit left, right and center around here, I better get this invention in swiftly, so this will do.

And now for what will be my, and eventually the world's, signature for a proverb of wisdom....

This has been another batch of Ancient Chinese wiseness, from Charlatan Says, I'm Shane Charlatan, good night.

Ps. Hey dad? I did it! I did it I made our wonderful surname MEAN something wonderful. You must be so proud. 

A lovely day at the park

It was a lovely day at the park.

And was there a bonnet? 

Of course there was.

You are god damn right there was a bonnet.

And it was a pretty bonnet.

Very pretty.

Like a bonnet could FAIL to be pretty. 

Ha ha. 

Don't be stupid.

That would be like saying 'there was a drum skin' that didn't make people say 'this isn't skin skin is it? That's gross'.

That would be like saying 'there was a swarm of hornets' without someone saying 'yum honey!' 

That would be like saying 'there was a hungry boy covered in hornet stings' without someone saying 'bet you tried to get hornet honey didn't you, don't you know that hornets never let you get their honey the first time, but it If you go back they respect you so much that they hand it all over without putting up a fight and even throw a couple of crumpets in the toaster for you?'

That would be like going to a hospital without someone saying 'hey there's that stupid kid who not just thought hornets made honey but who also fell for the ol' crumpet trick and is now in a coma after copping an almost lethal dose of hornet venom'.

That would be like someone not pointing out to me that hornet stings are not venom, but poison? Who knows, it hurts, that's all that matters. 

That would be like saying 'hey I have a drum' without someone saying 'hope you're going to take it to the hospital and try and wake up coma patients'.

That would be like saying 'damn it, I broke my drum skin at the hospital' without someone saying 'just get some fresh skin off a dead guy'.

So I think we've established once and for all that bonnets are pretty.

Like there was ever any fucking doubt.

I think the lesson is clear - if we wish to stop sexually exploiting the young women of the world we should force them all to wear bonnets.

You can't say 'wow your tits look awesome' when your mouth is already saying 'that's a pretty bonnet' and you can't add 'but also awesome tits' if the recipient of your praise is busy saying 'OF COURSE IT'S FUCKING PRETTY, IT'S A BONNET!' 

I mean no one sexually exploits the Armish! Well except their God, and parents and tribe or whatever. 

I've gotten off track. 

Back to the story ... it was a lovely day at the park, and was there a bonnet? 

Your god damn straight there was.

Regular god, Armish god, Indian god, name a god and you can be damn straight it that this lovely day at the park had a bonnet.

I noticed because when the loveliness of the day as spoiled when the bear came and ate that lady, it coughed up her bonnet. 

I probably could have scared it off with my drum, but I was too busy going 'ick, it's not skin skin is it?' 

Scented? - A Poem

Peter wanted a new bottle of face wash.

'John at the gym keeps boasting' Peter will complain 'he just won't stop "oh I don't buy soap, I just use whatever my wife leaves in there" he'll say, "I don't know, some sort of face wash I think" he'll add when pressed for details' Peter will explain. 

'What brand?

What scent? 

What's the active ingredient?

IS there an active ingredient?

What color is it? 

How's the consistency and texture?

Is it oxygenized? 

Is it environmentally friendly? 

Is there a picture of sea-life on it?

Or flowers?

Or even fruit? 

Answer my questions.

Stop ignoring me. 

I AM actually here.

I am asking you questions! 

Can you not see that I'm real and here and asking you questions?

Answer me! 

I have feelings.

Do you think I do not have feelings?

Because I do! 

I can see.

I have got senses.

Multiply senses.

I can hear.

I can smell.

You don't think I have the sense of smell?

You don't think I deserve to have that sense inspired with beautiful imagination enticing descriptions of skin cleaning products, face wash to be more specific? 

What is wrong with you?

What the HELL is wrong with you? 

Why are you treating me this way? 

Why aren't I worth your consideration?

I want to be considered damn it! 

Consider me'. 

He'll add.

'I don't know, I just use whatever my wife leaves in there, some sort of skin washing cream, possibly a variety of face wash if you'd like me to be more specific' John will reply.

'Agghhhhh! Aaaaaggghhhhhh! AAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!' Peter will say.

It turned out Peter had a bit of a thing for skin washing products, I believe face wash to be more specific, if I remember correctly. 

It was hard to blame him.

He WAS merely a pore on the right lower cheek of Clive Smithwick the best damn chimney sweep this side of the Calstone river. 

And Peter was fed up with being covered in soot, or worse filled with a pimple, and missing out on those sweet, sweet inside of the chimney views. 

And let's be honest, I'm sure this is a saga we can all relate to. 

The Photos Of #121DaysOfFit