Delusions or A Treatise On The Inequality Of Halves In A Confabulation Caused By A Split Brain Scenario or Relax, I'm Just Fucking With You

The Layout Of This Entry Will Be As Follows:

1. Errol Motherfucking Flynn
2. The Strange Case Of The Man Carrying A Dog In My Imagination
3. The Dead Ghost
4. Apple Juice, Orange Juice, And Visions of Grandma
5. Apparitions Caused By The Bullet Lodged Just Behind My Left Eye

And so goes...

Errol Mother Fucking Flynn

Alright, so there was this time, some years ago, where I was driving in my car with a very good friend and a very good friend of his. We were discussing Salinger and my inability to pronounce the name Zooey (I mean what's the point of the extra letters if we still have to pronounce it Zoe). Somehow this segued into us discussing a story I had heard about someone with functioning brain damage as result of an inadvertent callotomy, in which the corpus collosum was severed effectively separating the two hemispheres of the brain. This discussion of the brain led to the discussion of teenage slang. Apparently at the time it was becoming popular to refer to oral sex as "getting brain". We found this hilarious, not really recognizing that "getting head" was really not that much more sensible. For a good week however we referred to oral as "severing the corpus collosum". We never explained that to anyone. We still thought it was funny. This slang conversation led us to a discussion on the now outdated slang term "In Like Flynn". I, of course, was the only one who had ever seen anactual Errol Flynn film. (Objective Burma! is still one of my favorites.) And there was some great debate as to whether or not the term could actually be attributed to Flynn's prowess as a womanizer. (Now look, I'm not saying we were the most sophisticated bunch, but conversation like this went down all the time. It was fun. Really.) This somehow led to me momentarily bringing up the fact that Flynn had been charged with statutory rape in the early 1940's by two underage girls. Flynn beat this rap, and somehow came out the better for it. It increased his reputation as a sex symbol and a ladies man. And never one to learn a lesson, when he died at the age of 50 in 1959...he was screwing a 15 year old. God bless America.

The Strange Case Of The Man Carrying A Dog In My Imagination

So last night I had several fever dreams. I woke up and passed out several times in fast succession but one strain carried through all of these dreams. There were these two men. One tall and one old and short. And they were carrying this dog on their shoulders. They carried him like you would a rolled up carpet, as if there was no consistency to him. I saw them everywhere I went in this dreams, no matter where we were they were always doing the same thing. Carrying this giant golden retriever dog and placing him in the back of a large black van. I pointed them out to other people but no one found it odd. I screamed to them, but they failed to acknowledge me. I woke up this morning wondering if they were real.

The Dead Ghost

Go tell that long tongue liar

Go and tell that midnight rider

Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter

Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down

Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down

Apple Juice, Orange Juice, And Visions of Grandma

I went to sleep early, but I didn't sleep well. See the thing about asking me to try and envision hell is that it sort of opens the floodgates. I can't stop envisioning hell. It gets ugly quick. So here I am at 4 in the morning, wide awake and feeling fine for the first time in a long time. I'm standing in front of my refrigerator drinking old apple juice, wishing I had orange juice, and for some reason suddenly thought of my dead grandparents. Don't ask me where it came from. But it was like they were right there. I think about them all the time, but this was the clearest they've ever been to them. I wondered for a second if they would like my dog. I woke up on the living room floor about an hour later. No, I don't get it either.

Apparitions Caused By The Bullet Lodged Just Behind My Left Eye

VOICE IN MY HEAD: Look, we should talk.

ME: What?

VIMH: You've done something horrible.

ME: Me?

VIMH: Yes. You've done something horrible and it's too late for me to stop it.

ME: Well if I don't know what it is, and it's too late for you to stop whatever it is, then why are we having this discussion?

VIMH: We're not. I just thought you'd like to know that you never really had a chance in the first place, and that you shouldn't be so hard on yourself when things begin to go horribly wrong.

ME: You know Voice In My Head, I think we'd get along a lot better if you weren't such a miserable prick.

VIMH: Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.