The psychic came home one day from a reading. Out of nowhere his guts started tormenting him. He said to himself, right, you go see a doctor, take pills or not, and then what? Read my guts! (The doctor won't like this.)

So he lay down and read his guts. What did he see? A deep maelstrom, whirling really fast. I must be under water to see this, he thought. He told the doctor and the doctor said, try again, maybe you can start a tropical swimming pool.

So he lay down again and read his guts. What did he see? A huge towering waterfall, like the Niagara Falls, water plunging down. I must be high up in the air to see this, he thought. He told the doctor and the doctor said, try again, you might get the ****** Falls.

So he lay down one more time and read his guts. What did he see? A wildly swollen roaring stream, thrashing down boulders, branches and baby carriages. I must be in there to see this, he thought. He told the doctor and the doctor said, okay, you're washed up, now start a diet and take some pills.

The psychic said, okay, guts don't go on diets and take pills, people do. But wait, I see a long pole with a blue and white flag standing in the stream. What's it doing there?

The man who fell in love everyday sat in the sauna next to a dark girl.
He dropped to his knees, kissed her hand and said:
You're beautiful, let me say this, I'm in love with you.
The dark girl said:
Funny man.
The man who fell in love everyday, fell out of love that instant.
He walked over to the infrared sauna and sat next to a redhead.
Again he dropped to his knees and said:
You're beautiful, let me say this, I'm in love with you.
The redhead said:
My hair is a traffic light. That's where you stop.
The man who fell in love everyday, fell out of love that instant.
He walked over to the swimming pool and let himself in.
An older woman swam towards him.
He couldn't drop to his knees, so he floated up to her and said:
You're beautiful, let me say this, I'm in love with you.
The older woman said:
As long as we're in the water, let's marry.
The man who fell in love everyday, fell in love no more.

A guy. Loves walking. Walks over to the municipal pool. Enters the water. And keeps walking.
Look, there’s that pool walker again.
Pool walker does his first 25 meters.
Swat! Arm and leg hit him from behind.
Scram, I’m training for the Olympics.
****, you do this one more time. I’ll be limping.
Pool walker does another 50.
Smack! His toe hits a spectre near the bottom.
Scoot! You broke my goggles, diver bubbled.
****! You just popped my bubble and now I’m treading glass.
Pool walker is into his last 100.
Smash! His knee hits a soft object.
Srlsrlsrlsrlr! Goes drowning kid.
Shush! Now I’m walking on my hands to get you.
Pool Master approaches Pool walker: Hey, Maestro, try swimming.
That’s what I do on Main street.

Mister Two Point Two Miller considered himself always in need of free cash. He put his money where his heart was. Could he call himself wealthy? Well, maybe medium prosperous, medium-lite rich or ultra-lite tycoonish. So, the world was his treasure island.

Mister Two Point Two Miller washed ashore and looked around. Wait, there's another guy on his turf. What you looking for, the other guy said. How about anything over two point two mil? Ah, why that number? Random. Don't you dig that way. No, when I stumble over it, I'll find. Yeah, you'll stumble alright.

Mister Two Point Two Miller woke up on the beach and … eh, no looking around. He had a heartache. Two guys were digging a hole and dropped something in it. They sneaked away. Let's see what's in there. Hashtag. It's x point x mil! The two guys visited him in his beach hut. When they left, he was unconscious for two point two hours.

Mister Two Point Two Miller couldn't sleep. His head was a jungle, his mouth a desert. But his heart was his money. He picked up a torch and went for a prowl. An unlucky moon rolled around heaven all night. Jeez, you scare me, a voice said. I'm not looking for you. Well, you sure found me, the avatar said. Are you real? Hear who's asking. Uh, yeah, you got a point. Thnx for the point, but I gotta go. Seems you haven't found the two point two yet. How do you know I'm looking? Tss, we virtual things have a line on each other.

Right, I'm sticking with you. Mister you're welcome. We two got the point, let's go find the other two.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, thanks for the emotional day
yesterday, like a race course
with lots of competitors,
I would like to grow old
as the elderly man I met some years ago,
who spoke to me on the street,
while I was walking my bike
because of a flat tire:
you definitely need a bike
in the city, don't you, he said,
unafraid of strangers,
smiling, with his walking stick,
and clad in an immaculate suit,
notwithstanding the sweltering heat.
Now, what I forgot yesterday:
a quote from a soccer manager,
success is a sleeping pill,
and a low point is a turning point,
and: my fantasy self had to defend
his belief in God to a panel
of scientific atheists,
which is what I stand to do
the rest of my life,
realizing that most of my friends
ridicule you,
so I am to look for the company
of believers.
Come many a company!

The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge attended a party of a wealthy friend.
He said: Why the celebration?
You got a bus load in the bank, and yet your bed costs you more than all the food you'll eat.
Why not live in a different hotel every night?
The wealthy friend said:
Scuse my Rush-un, I may be a ruin inside,
but at least I now am a high rise on the outside.
But now you have two things to lose, your money and your mansion.
So your one plus one makes two minuses.
Worry never comes singular. My high rise is royal to me.
The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge volunteered to serve the homeless a Christmas dinner.
He put a platter of chicken in front of a bearded blue eye.
He asked the blue eyed beard:
What would you do if you had a bus load in the bank?
The blue bearded eyes said:
Have a party till I farted it all away.
What's the celebration?
Scuse my Germ-un, I may be a ruin on the outside,
but at least I'm a high rise on the inside.
You're talking to His ****-All Lowness, my ruin is royal to me.
The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge got hungry and dropped in at a sandwich shop.
He ordered a club sandwich and sat down.
The shop owner brought him his sandwich and
the young old man asked him:
What would you do with a bus load in the bank?
The same as I'm doing now.
Plus give myself and others an extra.
Where's the celebration?
Scuse my Nether-Lance, I may be a one story guy inside,
but at least I'm a one story guy on the outside as well.
And that story is royal to me.
Eat your sandwich, otherwise it'll have you.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, I feel like a spider
that has lost it's ability to
weave a web, and falls to the ground,
and, of course, again thankful
for what you are driving me
through, this tunnel with it's
unexpected twists and turns,
and realizing my dependencies,
the necessary and the superfluous,
the ones I'm born with and
should accept and the ones
I burden myself with and should cast off,
now, gratitude for that dream
this morning: what a circus!
I'm ready for sleep, when suddenly
a detective comes in with a
prisoner, whom we have to house
for a while, not saying why and how long,
me being the only one who protests,
me constantly moving
from sleeping room to sleeping room,
no rest, my older sister lies down
in the bath, I move again,
and the house keeps filling up
with people, doctors coming by,
giving pills, visitors suggest playing
roulette with the prisoner to keep him busy,
then constantly disrupt the game,
so the prisoner wants to leave,
still more guests arriving,
finally the prisoner calms down
in front of the tv, with a beautiful
mother and child behind him,
I smoke a very large cigarette,
the garden is chock full of people
sitting at tables, an old friend
arrives in a mariners costume
with a cricket bat, and at the end
everyone breaks out in song.
That prisoner is me, and everyone else
as well.
Rattle my chain!

A man was walking through a forest and a fierce wind was blowing.
He had trouble keeping his balance.
Suddenly he meets a spider hanging in a bush.
The spider gently swayed with the wind.
He asked the spider: Tell me, how do you keep your balance in this fierce wind?
The spider said: It's my web. I'm connected with everything that surrounds me.
The man: But I don't have a web.
Yes you do, said the spider.
You have a mind that can connect you with your surroundings. Try it.
The man imagined his own web and stood perfectly balanced.
Thank you, spider, he said.
Don't thank me, said the spider.
You did it yourself.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
it's been a few days that I wrote you,
plagued by insecurity
and stomache aches,
but now I'm back,
and this is what I have to say:
I'm torn between
intent and energy,
my intentions are good,
but the energy doesn't flow,
forced as I am to feel first
and then move,
and what I feel is covered
in the mist of my life,
with a few clear spots,
like working at the maintenance
of gardens and park,
which makes me dream
of my personal Eden,
from which I have been driven,
but to which I will return,
when I don't know,
and from which I will be driven again,
and to which I will return,
in a cycle of events
and inner movement,
I feel lost,
and only the Church of Saunology
keeps my standing,
while I'm lying down,
the heat helps me concentrate
on my body,
and slows down the mind,
which is overactive
and oversensitive.
Now, my emotional ballast
can be slowly minimized,
and maybe I can float
like a balloon in the future,
with a regular spurt
of gas fire,
an artificial ****.
Fartificial!

The Situationer left the situation room and went looking for a situation. Even though he knew the situation would arrive anyway. He bumped into a group of people forming a circle. He looked inside the circle and saw a girl lying on the ground. What's the situation? he said. Waiting for the ambulance, giving her water to drink, empathizing, being frightened, taking a picture, robbing her purse, commenting on her legs. That's not the situation, the Situationer said. Everybody's moving, minus one. You mean: minus yourself? No, I do both, because I show and tell.

The Situationer went looking for another situation. He came upon a twosome. Both persons were talking and gesturing. What's the situation? he said. She broke my watch, he failed an appointment, she looked away sweetly, he killed me with his eyes, she broke the camel's back, he pricked the needle in the haystack, she sleeps without snoring, he eats without smacking. That's not the situation, the Situationer said. Everybody's moving and standing still at the same time. Plus yourself? No, I can't do both at the same time. I either show or I tell.

The Situationer went looking for one more situation. A young person stood fiddling with a stick in the pool: Look, a polar bear in a big pool! What's the situation? the Situationer said. I wanna swim, but I'm afraid, I'm not a polar bear but a big blond guy, that makes me even more afraid, okay, I'm a bipolar bear. I cuddle and ****, chill, let's freeze together, you're furry right. That's not the situation, the Situationer said. Everybody's big and small at the same time. Hey, check who's sweating. I can be both at the same time. And with that situation the Situationer goes back to the situation room.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
I find it hard to write you today,
why? Because there is so much to
say and this tsunami of feelings
makes me run for cover,
but I reappear from behind
the wall, and the words flow out,
like a counterpoint to crushing waves,
well, take yesterday, I met someone,
no, two people, who might influence me
greatly in the future, and already have
stimulated me that day,
and this morning I dreamed
of a young woman whom I felt
deeply about, and she said: you're
pivoting so much, at which I cried,
after visiting a play in which
firemen wet the players,
now, back to yesterday:
at the communal garden,
where they were serving pizza,
I talked to one of the initiators,
and his dream of starting a city farm
caught me by surprise,
and his question if I would be interested
in participating,
and later that night I met the
Red Hair Renate, of whom I've
been thinking many years now,
but I was paralyzed, and couldn't
act upon a dream come true,
surely I will see her again,
well, thanks for all this,
because it's like a wake up call
to courage, patience and determination
I've been praying for so long,
and my fantasy self remained silent,
for once, the real one
is on the hitting spot.
Swing that bat!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, I bought new shoes,
for the first time in 25 years,
again I dreamed about the farm
where I worked for so long,
this time an ex-friend and his wife
were there, trying to make contact,
but I said, not now, so maybe
I will see him again in the future,
although I don't think so,
radical departures are a fixture
of my life, for better or for worse,
books are a tremendous consolation
in this period, I discovered
a writer, roaming the second hand book stalls,
a face that fascinated me,
an alien from inner space,
rocketed from the Ukraine
and landing in Brazil,
she is Jewish and mystical,
a fringe person like me,
even though she led a famous life,
in the middle of public attention,
this fringe man finally beginning
to accept the borders of the world
where he makes his home,
crossing the lines every now and then,
entering a new land,
which he leaves again after a while,
like Abraham.
Get on your camel!

There's a living one, he was, he is and always will be. Waiting for the Messiah. Expecting another living one to be sent his way. Sure he would come. Cry it out loud for crying out loud. This one could not exist without a public. So he went looking for a seeing, hearing, feeling individual.

A man in a balloon just landed on earth. Ah, this one's ready, the Mess-Sire thought. Did you know the Messiah is coming? Well, all I know is that I just came down. What did you see up there? A small guy waving up at me. Oh yes, I'm small. Messiah, dunno. Could you help fold the balloon?

A snow covered girl stopped next to him at the traffic light. This one is ready to be warmed. Did you know the Messiah is coming? Phew, all I know is I got a bunch of love letters from heaven. And what do they say? the Mess-Sigher said. Hey, love letters are about love? Wanna read one?

A boy dropped out of a tree. Broke his leg. He cried out loud. Yes, the Mess-**** thought. This one's ready to be healed. Did you know the Messiah is coming? ****, mister, you mean the siren? I need some guys with a stretcher. They won't help. No? Who's gonna carry me to hospital? Eh yeah, that they do. Won't heal your soul though. Want my soul, you can have my broken leg.

The Mess-Sire, the Mess-Sigher and the Mess-**** needed a break. They entered a coffee bar. This is a mess, nobody's listening. At that very moment the Messiah knocked at their door. Nobody home. He slipped into the guise of a postman and wrote a note. Dear believers, you're never home when I call. What do I do? Land in a balloon, pop up at at traffic light, fall out of a tree. You make so much noise you can't hear.

An Animal Magnetizer went knocking at the doors of farmers and pitched:
Your animals sick, sad and surly? Let me magnetize them and they will be sane, spirited and sweet. Two healings for the price of one!
One farmer thought: Well, it so happens carnival is in town, so let’s take a shot.
The Animal Magnetizer chose one of the goats, closed his eyes, and magnetized……
Dear Goat, you’ve sore knees, you’re too fat.
The goat thought: O, yeah, how about me getting extra fodder because I’m old? And he took a bite out of the magnetizer’s pants.
The Animal Magnetizer went mad and secretly magnetized the goat sore knees for the rest of his life.
The Animal Magnetizer chose one of the chickens, closed his eyes and magnetized…..
Dear Chicken, you’re starving, look at your legs, they are so thin.
The chicken thought: O, yeah, I’m scuttling about all day looking for food and get fed twice a day, I’m just nice and slender.
And it pooped over the Animal Magnetizer’s shoes.
The Animal Magnetizer went mad and secretly magnetized the chicken starvation for the rest of his life.
Well, the farmer said, I’m subwhelmed, you got one more chance.
The Animal Magnetizer chose one of the donkey’s, closed his eyes and magnetized…. (Let’s put a positive note)
Dear Donkey, you’ll have a beautiful child.
The donkey thought: O, yeah, look at my belly, a child can see that. And it peed all over the Animal Magnetizer’s shirt.
The Animal Magnetizer went mad and secretly magnetized the donkey with a child that bore the horns of a goat and the feathers of a chicken.
Ah, well, buster, no cure no pay, the farmer said, I guess my stock relies on it’s own animal magnetism.

A man met a woman friend on the street. She cried. Her grandchild had just died on a ski *****, buried under an avalanche. Inconsolable.
He was jealous. I only cry for myself, he thought. Arthritis of the hip, losing mobility, starts my tears.
The man sent a photo of a scythe he had named after a man who had died years ago. He missed the man just as much as the wife to whom he sent the picture. She cried seeing it.
The man was jealous of her tears. I only cry for myself, he thought. Feeling a goodbye coming to his former life and not knowing what to do next. That started his tears.
The man met a boy who just lost his watch. He cried heartbreaking.
Here, take mine, he said. It’s a cheap one and I don’t have as much time left as you.
I only cry for myself, he thought. Getting older, losing illusions, starts my tears.
Well, maybe my tears can provide the birds with drink.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
yesterday I just couldn't write you,
I stood in front of this blank page
and nothing came,
so I decided you had to wait,
just like me,
and now the words come
like a trickling stream,
the twins Anger and Fear
meet other twins: Admiration and Love,
a deadly combination,
for admiration serves as a loyalty
and it's dark side enslavement,
and together with love
they bind one to their subject
or object, and those chains
strangle all true feelings of love,
one realizes that Love is a planet,
with the whole gamut of emotions,
like hope, which in itself is a twin brother
of despair,
once one starts hoping,
one actually is despairing about
a good outcome,
terrible paradox of human life,
so I would name Love a false knowledge,
a knowledge that presents itself
as true, because it provides security,
which always is temporary,
now, what can we know?
We know the moment,
which we can experience as an eternity,
and enjoy or lament.
Stand still and move on!

Talking about the F-Word, let's talk.

Hey, it's a guy: F. Word. F. Word becomes F. Lesh.

F. Word looked at his watch. Saw the Metro-Gnome. Little sucker just keeps walking. F. Word watched his look. Narrow tunnels, deep sink holes, wide open spaces.

Here we go, he thought. Steps into his own pipe. Blackness breakable What's that over there? An old friend calls out to him. Hey, got some new clothes for you. Yeah, you deal in shrouds. So? What's the fear? You're gonna get dressed up in the end anyway. And after you see the light. The light I see now is a fight.

Here we go again, he thought. Steps into his own chasm. Darkness drinkable. After some deep falling he plunks down in an inch of water. What’s that over there? Another old friend calls out to him. Hey, got some new proteins for you. Yeah, the fleas, and who ends up as food? So? What's the fear? You're gonna get eaten anyway. And after there’s the apple tree. I'll be the apple, I'll flee.

Here we go again, he thought. Steps into his own vistas. Brownout boatable. Another old friend calls out to him. Hey, got some new ship for you. Yeah, the one that carries me nowhere. So? What's the fear? You're gonna be shipped off anyway. And your last Port of Call will be the Court of Pall. Must say, you got a way with words. You just gave me the floats.

The friends met in Mr. Koestler's Twilight Bar. How come we hardly ever see you here? they said to F. Word.  Keep getting lost, get into a fight, have to run, end up on my back in the canal. Boy, you still got your looks. How do you keep 'm up? Oh, those looks. I just traded in my Kingdom.

Maybe a dust bowl
burning in nature’s airfryer,
it’s not the end,
something’s crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a fire within and without,
a howling wind about,
there’s always another thing
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a flood, ages of rain
with a tornado as a premium.
Down deep it crouches
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a landslide
taking a town or two,
it looks big that’s all,
it’s the tiny thing that’s
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a mental eclipse,
a black out, a white out,
a skyscraper crashing down,
there’s a wisp of a ghost
crawling out of a hole.

A farmers family had a small son called Mark. The boy was forever asking questions. So they called him Question Mark.
Walking around in the yard he said: What kind of animal is that?
His mother said: That’s a chicken.
And the boy said: What does a chicken do?
The mother said: She scurries around for food and then lays an egg.
And we scurry around after her eggs for our food.
And the boy said: Why does a chicken lay eggs?
And the mother said: The chicken hopes it’s egg will produce a chick.
And the boy said: What is a chick?
And the mother said: A chick is a young chicken, just like you are my young son.
And the boy said: But who came first, the chicken or the egg?
The mother was speechless.
One day a man and his little daughter came to buy some eggs.
The boy bombarded the two with questions.
He said: Who are you?
The man said: I’m married to my wife and together we have this little daughter.
And the boy said: What do you do?
The man said: I provide food for my wife and daughter.
And the boy said: Why?
The man said: If my daughter doesn’t eat she will never be big and strong.
And the boy said: Why do you have a daughter?
The man said: We enjoy living with her and hope she will support us when we are old.
And the boy said: Is your daughter the same as a little chicken?
The man said: I guess you could say so.
And the boy said: Did she crawl out of an egg too?
The man said: No, she came out of her mother’s womb.
And the boy said: So is a womb just like an egg?
The man said: No, people don’t crawl out of an egg. But in the beginning they do look a bit like a little egg.
And the boy said: But who came first, that little egg or the mother?
And then the little girl said: Everything starts small and ends up big.
And the boy said: But what about the Giant and Tom Thumb? That Giant was big from the beginning. And Tom Thumb stayed small.
The girl said: Yeah, I know that fairy tale. Tom Thumb beats the Giant, doesn’t he?
But then, Marky Mark, who decides who is big and who is small?

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: What goes slow, should go fast, but it doesn't. Had a tooth pulled, it was a fast one. And then it released pain, instead of releasing of it. And that was a slow one.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something other is pulled together with the tooth. Like what? Fear of pain. The pain I tried to push far from me, I pulled closer by having the tooth pulled.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something changed inside me. First, the pain doesn't go fast, it goes slowly. Second, what is slow and not fast? Waiting. Patience is the patient's best friend.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: All suffering is becoming. But what am I becoming? Ah, get off my cloud of unknowing.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: I trust this virtual paper to pull something out of me.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: No matter, sure to be unsure. There's some surety in that. And delicate? Oh, that'll stick around.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something's pulling at my intestines. They know, but they can't tell yet. Or have they done just that? Sounds like, you've been pulling one on yourself.

Oh, Ah,
You are my
roundabout which
I round with a
minimal velocity
of three heartbeats
a second
chasing a
small guy,
naturally I mean
a small gal
but she doesn’t know it
and the small guy does.

The What It Is Kid jumped into his sideswiped sedan. It felt good. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do better.) He planned to make a blast, like a rubber bonfire. First swerve, some screeching smell. Next curve, some pebble sparks. Last turn, a nice gully. Sure thing, his skin did fireworks. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

The What It Is Kid slipped into the Bar None. It felt great. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do greater.) He planned to take a bath, like a diver in a sea of drink. First shot, ah, ground swell. Next shot, hot spring bubbles. Last shot, wow, what a spray. Sure thing, his socks took a wash in his puke. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

The What It Is Kid stumbled into the Junk Food Joint. It felt super. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do hyper.) He planned a burial, like a Fair-O in a Pyramid of Fat. First bite, stabilizing staple. Next bite, reaching for the sky. Last bite, a highway to the stars. Sure thing, his heart did a bypass. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

It's what it is, she said to the ambulance guy.

It's a balmy spring evening. There's a couch, a cigar and green tea. And there's a man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of green eyes, fuzzy redhead and soft paws. Potted palm, some ceramic and a picture frame get knocked over. Some looking around. A sudden leap and the mouse is caught. One last look around and mouse in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a candle.
Thanks Kitty. I'll call you Alibi. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a sweaty summer evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a glass of chilled white wine. And there's a man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of pale yellow eyes, bushy black head and soft paws. Potted yucca, bronze statue and glass object get knocked over. Some delicate scanning. A sudden leap and the mouse is caught. One last scan and the mouse in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a vase with an artificial flower.
Thanks Kitty. I'll call you Alias. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a sweltering autumn evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a glass of cool beer. And there's man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of hooded eyes, capped head and gloved paws. Potted vegetables, glass tea *** and cooking pan get knocked over. Some tentative spot lighting. A sudden leap and the gold watch is caught. One last beam and gold in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a bottle of beer.
The man opens his eyes. Thanks Kitty, for not ******* on the table. I'll call you Bias. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a rainy winter evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a hot grog. And there's a man. The window’s an invitation.

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, apart from writing you
so little, I also forgot to show
my gratitude for all you
give and take,
that done I open the tap
of my word piping:
all is always an apple,
one either takes a bite
or lets it hang,
depending on how the guts decide,
for they are more intelligent
than the mind,
well, at least in my case,
for I can't walk in another person's
shoes, even if I wish
I could sometimes,
so I walk in my new shoes
and bite the fresh apple,
which is a visit to my mother,
whose heavy presence
resembles mine with other people,
how to combine lightness
with the heavy load,
inner feather that floats
in this heavy world,
courage, patience and determination
I pray for again and again
and again.
Let the juices trickle from my mouth!

A boy walked in a mist.
He couldn't see for a hundred meters.
He felt he was lost.
He walked on, but the mist only thickened.
He followed a path that suddenly ended.
And now? he said to himself.
Next to him a hedgehog appeared out of the bush.
Hedgehog, he said, how do you find your way in this dense mist?
Well, said the hedgehog, I'm a prickly animal and my sharp pins sense
whether there’s danger or not.
But, said the boy, I'm lost and afraid.
Now, said the hedgehog, that's because you only use your eyes.
What you see is just mist and that's nothing to be afraid of.
But I don't have your prickly pins, said the boy.
Oh, said the hedgehog, but if you're afraid of the fog, just sit down
and wait till it dissolves.
How long? said the boy.
Just how long it takes, said the hedgehog.
Remember, your eyes are connected to your brain.
And so are your skin, ears and nose. Those are your pricklies.
I'll tell you what, said the boy, can I sit next to you for a while?
Right, said the hedgehog, sit down and enjoy what you see,
because what you see is mystery, not danger.

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car waited before a traffic light. A policeman came over and said: Sir, you're a protected city scape. Don't heed the red light.
What kind of justice is this? I'm waiting.
You want justice? I'll fine you for not exercising your privilege.
Yeah, that's justice. Now I'm gonna eat asparagus.

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car reported at a movie set as an extra. With a few friends he had to row a sloop. In a straight line. They ended on the cutting room floor. Well, that's a straight line for you. Now I'm gonna eat asparagus.

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car took a course in horse whispering. I'm a heavy talker. How do I do this?
Look at the animal, the teacher said. It's heavy without talking. Try it yourself. Right, that's easy. Now, don't look at the animal. And move slowly. Right, that's not easy. They circled each other, coming closer.
Then the Big Man in a Small Sports Car whispered: Hey, wanna go eat asparagus?

Well, have you heard, have you seen?
What?
Soccer player keeps the ball airborne running.
Yeah? Your imagination, that’s what’s running.
No, my imagination stops when I see him doing it.
So? What’s he do?
Oh, you need telling twice?
Flips the ball past the defender, catches it on the other foot,
flips it past the next player.
Yeah, sure, gimme some detail on how.
Well, upper body at between 10 and 11 degrees, ball trajectory the same.
When did he find that out?
Exercising thru the bushes in the park, avoiding prickly branches,
trunks sticking out, logs diagonal.
Policeman asks what’s he doing. Go back to school.
Yes, he says, and doesn’t.
Wanted to put in 6 hours a day of ball control.
No school?
No, he was his own teacher and pupil.
Only cooked for the family.
Mother alcoholic, sisters rebellious.
Oh, so a monomaniac?
A solomaniac, is better.
But why this air solo?
Well put. You want to intercept the ball,
you have to commit a foul.
You didn’t succeed, all sorts of space
opened up for him and his team.
You ever played against him?
Eh, I’m just an observer, a sports fan, a bit of a scout.
He still doing it?
No, he’s retired. Walks up and down
stairs with the ball in the air,
jumps fences and catches the ball on the other side.
Sounds like the circus?
Guess you could say that.
Appears on TV explaining the technique.
But so far nobody has been able to copy.
What does he say?
Slightly bent knees, catch the ball close
to the ground, center of gravity low.
It’s like a dance.
And the ball is his partner?
Well said.
He takes the ball for a stroll
in the park. Kids love it.
Walking the ball?
Hey, you got a way with words.
Sounds like a lonely guy.
No, he’s got me.
How’s that?
Well, you could say I’m keeping
him in the air.
Ah, still a fantasy.
When he lands on my feet
he’s real as a double
and true as a story.

This guy had a sleeping problem. A friend told him about a man who pitched himself as the Sleep Savant. He had no followers, just told one and all he slept 3 hours during the day and 12 during the night.
The bad sleeper phoned him and said, can we talk?
Only over the phone, the Savant said.
Why so?
You see me, you won’t sleep at all.
So it’s your voice? You talk yourself to slumber?
Well, that must be it, because I never believed in my own advice.
Right, I heard it and I’ll see if it works.
A week later the bad sleeper phoned again.
You got anything else besides your voice? I still don’t sleep like a babe.
You’re asking for a technique? Go see a mechanic.
How about using your own voice, like I use mine.
You heard me twice now.
Ah, like in a movie?
A week later the bad sleeper phoned again.
Hello, I’m still in the woods, don’t know what to do.
Silence at the other end.
Are you there? Should I talk to you in your own voice?
Silence.
Well, here I go
He made a show of the Savant’s voice.
Silence.
But, no, a soft snoring sound came thru the speaker.
A week later the bad sleeper phoned again.
Well, it worked for you didn’t it? But not for me.
What next?
Right, you want some bad advice. Just pretend you’re watching a movie of a guy sleeping, me, anybody, yourself.
A movie? After a movie I hardly sleep at all.
Then visualize yourself walking up to my place, following a hundred signs.
But then I’ll see you?
Yeah, you got me there, phone me in a week.
A week later the bad sleeper phoned.
Hey Savant, I slept like a newborn set of Siamese twins and you were the other one.
Right, get a surgeon, we need to be separated, cause I’m not sleeping anymore.