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!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, I met the stranger again,
and presented my fantasy self,
which he saw as an imaginary friend,
a way I never saw him,
and what did my fantasy self say to me
this morning: loss, my boy,
is what you experience everyday,
each moment something goes,
and with it something comes,
but what that is you never know,
and the chaos of loss
confronts you with hidden
talents and possibilities,
a fountain that springs up
inside you, a water that
is alive and looks for dryness
and barren ground,
and the hard thing about it
is that you see the desert
and have to look for the water,
cool, clean water,
and look for the deepest pit as well,
yes, actually look for it,
the hardest thing of all.
Make that pitstop!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
can I thank you for my fate
and at the same time curse it?
Well, I do.
You can just go **** yourself
if you think I can't.
So sorry for that,
but it had to come out.
It's like a release of a constipation
I'm suffering lately.
Jesus, one of your friends,
once said: what comes out
is more important than
what goes in,
your kingdom within me
is being assaulted by unknown
enemies, who smoke
dried animal and human excrement,
and not a quality cigar,
well, I wish I was on this
exploratory expedition with
two camels carrying my cigars,
and not looking for your light
with a lantern.
May I pray to you again
for courage, patience and determination,
in finding the route inside me,
and bringing out whatever
cache of preciousness
is hidden there.
Jewel, shine!

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!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
thanks for my good and bad habits,
good are the fighting spirit and
the enjoyment of small pleasures,
liking getting a bunch of roses
from my downstairs neighbor
and the chance meeting with
a young girl yesterday I worked with,
but whom I didn't recognize at first,
well, the bad: I feel like a ******,
addicted to a cocktail of anger and anxiety,
a wall between me and all other feelings,
between me and the world,
angry at a small child that played
with a water hose,
remnants of a long period
of copying the image of a strict parent,
sadness that it happens,
and reminiscing the time
I lived with my aunt, because
my parents couldn't find a home,
and not feeling anything but timidity,
not remembering visits of my parents,
except one, of my father who was
confronted with the story I told my aunt,
that he always farted, so I thought
it was absolutely normal,
which my aunt disagreed with.
Well, a **** a day keeps the doctor away!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
the bubbling source under my feet
will produce something to write,
and, yes, there it comes:
thanks for the dream this morning,
in which I was back at the farm
and met with a total chaos
of events and people,
me cleaning up a self made mess,
lots of paper towels,
reprimanding a person who
took soft drinks from a table,
morphing from an old man in tattered clothes
into a young blond man
and who looked at me like,
who are you to decide,
finding a copper ring,
with a flat piece sticking forward,
fitting it on to my little finger,
discovering I couldn't lock my bike,
looking up and seeing the whole farm
renovated, a large roof on poles
over an open space,
waving goodbye to the young guy
I worked with on Saturdays,
emptying my pockets of animal toys,
and finally leaving, stepping around
an open pit,
well, how's that for a goodbye,
and afterward stumbling out of bed,
unsure of my footing.
All this after a terrible aching
of my intestines yesterday,
the smartest ***** of man,
the gut is the winding path
to God, and releases all that
should be released,
and takes in what should be
digested, cramping whenever
what has to go out is kept inside.
Mind is the Holy Spirit, Gut is the Father,
and the son, well, that's us,
our hearts, that surprise
with all their twists and turns.
Beware to be where you are!

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,
the inner rain is coming down,
washing my soul,
the word that you are creates us
and we create you with our words,
gibberish maybe, but the closest
I can get to what you are,
look at our inner unbalance,
the organs all arraigned
asymmetrical, while on the outside
one sees an effort to symmetry,
two legs, two arms, two eyes, two feet,
two hands, nose, mouth, ***
in the middle,
so what we are to do is
balance ourselves from the outside
working inward, and the unbalance
of our inner world keeps us moving
toward a new balance,
suddenly I realized this morning
what my gut was telling me Friday:
through a misunderstanding a friend
and I missed an appointment,
though I am sure I had the time right,
and my gut responded with:
lower your expectations of this
friendship, let it bleed,
although I promised to ask
him for dinner and will honor it.
Thanks for I don't know what!

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!

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!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, many thanks again for
the cooling rain of yesterday
and today, and for
the tears of goodbye
I felt welling up during the day,
even if they were propelled
by my daily fantasy of a
life I do not lead,
of an older actor finally
realizing his time has come
to stop making movies,
recalling all the hassles and troubles
he met in performing,
and missing just these the most,
now, this is the wonder of life,
that one ends up being grateful
for it's difficulties and less for
it's joys, that's the way you work
in us, because the hardships
give us more than the soft successes,
and in the meanwhile
the winds of the world breathe
a new chill, carrying
the next lessons and exercises,
and a new death with a newborn life.
Have a drink with a drop of my tears!

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!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
again the words don't come easy,
forcing myself to write,
well, here they come:
thanks for the relaxed game of tennis
yesterday, and after that
the meal with a friend,
who is going away on vacation
for a month and whom I'll miss,
and now I'm vacillating between
a simple garden job
and just doing nothing,
but I'm nervous and oversensitive
to sound, so I'll do the job,
yesterday I had this imaginary
conversation between my fantasy self
and a writer who asked him
about creativity: well, he said,
to me creativity springs from
the Me and You, the constant
flow of connection between
the self and it's surroundings,
and the mysterious outcome,
a secret that reveals itself in
what one does, says and writes,
and that can't be forced,
it comes and goes whenever it wants,
and the hard labor lies in
keeping up the connection.
So, I pray for doing the work,
with patience, courage and determination,
and long for the float
on your river of inspiration.
Stream gentle stream!

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!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, you're waiting for my words,
I hope, and to be honest I'm
waiting myself, now, their
train is entering the station,
yesterday was an angry day,
reticent, but hard working
in the communal garden,
planting potatoes, for the first
time in my life,
food for thought,
but the anger, what was it,
I felt hampered and obstructed,
not being able to recognize
the feelings underneath,
but last night they suddenly
appeared, the small child in me,
lagging behind, wailing for attention,
the fast mind and the slow emotion,
and that attention I realized
I am now giving to myself,
which feels strange and frightening,
because it demands deep reflection,
not just thinking about the world,
but about loss, about effectively
experiencing how it is to lose
a bond with people and things,
and acting upon it, ritualizing it,
questions I'm asking of myself
that I feared for so long,
because they are answered with
more questions, and it are these
questions that steer one through life,
standing at the wheel that constantly
asks to be turned.
So, another wheel is ready
to start turning, the day is ready
to unfold, the stranger is waiting,
and so are new questions,
from him and from me,
a woman is on my mind,
for the first time in a long stretch,
will she be the next mirage
or maybe a new mirror.
Same thing!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
it's been a long time since
I wrote to you, the summer
has had it's soporific effect,
and new things have come my way,
and lots of new books,
with scraps of insight,
like, to be courageous one first
has to feel fear,
and fear is located in the ear,
and timed for the night,
because then we mainly
base ourselves on that *****,
foreign sounds and sensations
need to be addressed,
lately my heart beats in my left ear,
well, in a conversation with friends
I finally spoke out over you,
proof of your existence lies in the fact
of fiction, which is a living organism,
that changes through every new ear and mouth,
so if you are fiction, you are alive,
and change everyday,
and I realize that intimacy
is my great struggle, to open it up
and lend it continuity,
and not being afraid of changes
it goes through.
Courage, patience and determination
are key words.
Unlock my doors!

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 White Hole thought to itself: I need another hole to fit in with. It scanned parks, meadows and forests. And stumbled into a Rabbit Hole. Hey, watcha doin', the rabbit said. I'm not trying to blow you away, rabbit. I'm just testing if I fit in with your hole. You're too glaring, the Rabbit Hole screamed. Get your laser light out of my cozy darkness. And out whooshed the White Hole.

The White Hole continued it's search for a hole to fit in with. It scanned war zones, battlefields and cyber bunkers. And nearly fell into a Man Hole. Hey, watcha doin', the man said. I'm not trying to blow you away. I'm just testing if I fit in with your hole. It's getting much too hot in here, the Hole said. Snap off that nuclear plant of yours, I wanna be cold and uncomforto. And out whooshed The White Hole.

The White Hole continued it's search for a hole to fit in with. It scanned the universe, both outside and inside. And bumped into a Black Hole. Hey Whitey, watcha doin', the Black Hole said. Sorry, Blacky, I'm not trying to blow you away. I'm just testing if I fit in with your hole. Well, Whitey, I can tell you this: you gotta wait till I'm done.
How long you think you gonna take?  Ages, you call 'em light years. You can try my *******. Blacky, any hole of yours, light seconds I’ll be there.

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.

Long before … eh, what... there was a man called Theodore Therefore. He was known to sit in an easy chair. Not much more was known about him. Stop, there was something. He was contented.

Theodore Therefore sat in his easy chair. Two young lovers came to visit. He smiled at the girl. The girl chattered happily to one of her aunts. He smiled at the boy. The boy smiled back and thought: now, there's a guy seems like cause and effect in one.

Theodore Therefore sat in his easy chair. His younger brother came to visit. Theodore Therefore smiled. His brother smiled, but said: you don't seem to move. Cause and effect doesn't seem to effect you.


Theodore Therefore sat in his easy chair. His young looking elderly mother came to visit. He smiled. She put up a blank face. Looks like you don't know you're there, she said. But I know. Cause I feel the effect on me.

Theodore Therefore smiled. He drew no conclusions. Very effectively.

A  guy wakes up one morning and decides he wants to be immortal.
He’s healthy, well to do, reasonably handsome and extremely unsatisfied.
Thru Insta, Tiktok, Facebook and a chain smoking friend he learns of a firm offering immortality.
Welcome, says the Immortician, you’re at the right place.
My TomTom told me so too.
How does this work and how much does it cost?
There are three stages, each increasing in intensity and in costs.
First stage amounts to 1499 USD.
This is rekindling your lusts.
How do I do that?
Unfortunately, our method leaves you entirely to your own devices.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, what did you experience?
Well, I pursued many a lust, but that resulted in osteoarthritis of the hip.
Excellent. Now for the second stage.
Your imagination needs to run away with you.
How?
Unfortunately our method leaves it entirely up to your own fantasy.
And the costs?
3000 USD.
Can I pay by installment?
Naturally, the term is infinite.
By the way, the guy says, you yourself look younger than three weeks ago.
Your efforts are our gain.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, how was the run?
Well, my imagination is in overdrive, no sensible thought in my head, but I did develop a migraine.
Excellent. Now for the last stage. You need to become a child again.
I won’t ask how.
No, the child in you will show you the way.
And the costs are?
6000 USD.
Drop dead, the guy says, you’ve become even younger.
So you’re saying you’re showing me what’s in store for me?
This is reversed obsolescence.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, how did it play out?
Well, I whimpered, snacked and shrieked to my heart’s delight,
but after climbing a tree I ended up in IC with a heart attack.
Excellent, you’re dead right on track.
However, we strongly recommend a follow-up.
Costing?
10000 USD.
Hey, you’re getting younger again.
I suggest you pay me!
And the guy grabs the Immortician by the throat and strangles her.
After which he drops dead with a humongous *******.

Detective: We suspect a love making that got out of hand.

The Chooseday's Child was on her way to a new friend and found a book lying in the street. She dropped in at the new friend's place and admired the friend's bookcase.
Secretly she slipped in the book she had found. The friend didn't notice and the Chooseday's Child anticipated it would take her a year to do so.

The Chooseday's Child found a metal contraption on a hiking route. She spent the night at a sweet little hotel, with good food and a warm bath. She admired the hotel owner's collection of antique farm tools and secretly slipped in the contraption she had found. The hotel owner didn't notice and the Chooseday's Child anticipated it would take him half a year to do so.

The Chooseday's Child found a small painting in a frame next to a garbage bin. She was on her way to a museum she liked for it's eccentric collection. Secretly she slipped in the painting between the other works of art. The guard didn't notice and the Chooseday's Child anticipated it would take him less than a week to do so.

The Chooseday's Child never checked her anticipations and secretly knew she had slipped in a piece of herself into a new home.

The story has a kangaroo's tail.

The Chooseday's Child found a toy doll with moveable limbs at a Give Away Shop. She was on her way to her favorite Qi Gong teacher. She admired his collection of toy dolls in different Qi Gong postures, a collection she herself had initiated. Secretly she slipped in the toy doll she had found. The teacher didn't notice and the Chooseday's Child anticipated it would take him seconds to do so.

The Chooseday's Child had her anticipation checked and secretly knew she had slipped in a piece of herself into this new tent.

At five in the morning
in peeps
bona fide sunshine
thru my blanket
& my eye,
lowly it loafs
on the street,
out spaces
the early
innocence,
gangster gal,
anything you say
from now on
can be used
against you.

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.

Door opens. It’s a party.  Two girlfriends, dressed to the nines,  leave their partners and retreat to the powder room.
You think my guy sees what I’m wearing?
Think mine does?
Let’s swap dresses and see what happens.
In an urban minute they walk over to the bar.
Male, good looking but going on sixty: Didn’t I see you two on some catwalk?
What, the dress or me?
Good question, not sure I would recognize you without.
Girls walk on to the dance floor.
Woman, tattoo-faced, XTC-eyed: Didn’t I see you two in the tattoo parlor?
Sure, dress feels like it’s on us to stay.
Don’t worry, my eyes are lasers.
Go peel a banana.
Girls find their boys.
Boys: What you said is right, music’s too loud to say anything.
Then don’t say it.
Did I say something wrong?
Girls decide to swap back.
In an urban minute they’re back and bump into their boys.
Sweeties, something the matter?
What would that be?
Looks like you went and changed.

First notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber surfaces from his underground. The plan is there. The object waits. Scan the Terminal Station. Where's the multitude? As if a bomb just dropped. What? Am I trying to be funny? Like the guy over there. Clown promoting cuddlies. Sure toying in the wrong place.

Second notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber shuffles over to the tame side of town. The plan has changed. The object talks. Scan the Parlay-Mental Building. More City-Zens outside than inside. Camera's and guns ready for the shooting match. Carny-Falls. A quarter a shot. You hit bull's eye, your picture is taken. I'm getting funnier by the minute. Like the kid over there. Sandwich suit for some sandwich. Talking bread. What a picture.

Last notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber sneaks over to the polished perimeter. The plan is definite. The object is luck-sure-us. Get this! He walks into the Incontinental Hotel. Ah, marble floor, uniformed smiles, expensive outdoor garb, trolley cases. The Super-Ego has landed. ****, stop being funny. Like the man over there. Buffoon with a boo-quay of roses. Welcome, sir! Hey, what am I here for? Okay, farewell flower. Left hand presents the flower. Right hand chops his breast bone to splinters.

The Sewer-Side Bomber wakes up in hospital. Guy sitting at bedside. I was that funny one, he said. All three? Yep. Knew I wasn't  funny, the Sewer-Side Bomber said. Neither was I, the guy said. Funny though, I had this gutter feeling we went way back.

Man sits watching an outside film set. The crew takes a break. Man walks over and asks, Who’s the Foley Artist?
Me, says Foley, I invented it.
I’m too silent, man says, can you fit me with some sound?
Sure, what do you want?
Leather soles on wooden floor.
Done.
Man walks over to his girlfriend’s place.
Hey, quit creaking around the house.
Wrong sound, man thinks.
Goes back to Foley.
Can you fit me with another sound? My girlfriend’s freaking out.
Sure, what?
Get me rustling paper.
Done.
Man goes to his office.
Hey, what you shuffling your files for at the lunch break?
You wiping your *** with em too?
Man goes back to Foley.
Colleagues think I’m wasting toilet paper.
Can you fix me another sound?
Well, what will it be?
Try a starting car.
Done.
Man goes to his tennis club. Wins every game.
Hey, you’re like a truck driving over us.
Man goes back to Foley.
Hey, Foley, great sound.
Can’t hear you, cut the engine.

The tennis player who only played the ball on the lines
was invited to a match by a young girl.
The young girl was talented.
The line hitter kept hitting the lines, spreading his shots,
and in the end the young girl couldn't run them down.
The line hitter said: Did you enjoy it as much as I did?
Well, she said, you don't seem to play for points and
yet you win.
The line hitter said: True, I like hitting the lines more than anything else,
and I would've let you win, if only you could return my shots.
The tennis player who only played the ball on the lines
asked a young man if he liked to play a match.
The young man was a club champion.
The man kept hitting the lines, spreading his shots,
but now in such a way that the young man could keep
the ball in play longer.
The young man scored lots of points, but in the end he lost the match.
The line hitter said: Did you enjoy it as much as I did?
The young man said: No, you kept me hanging and in the end
still cut the rope.
The line hitter said: Well, you seemed to like the dangling.
The tennis player who only played the ball on the lines
couldn't find anyone on the court to play with.
So he went to the bar and saw an old man sitting alone.
The line hitter asked the old man if he would like to play a match.
The old man had been a many time national champion in the past.
The old man said:  Why not?
The line hitter kept hitting the lines, spreading his shots.
The old man easily returned and presented him with easy shots.
After hitting the lines 87 times in the final game,
the line hitter stumbled and fell.
The old man delivered a powerful shot, that went way out.
The line hitter said: Did you enjoy it as much as I did?
The old man said: What I especially enjoyed was letting someone win who plays as if he doesn't play to win.

The Gifter had a job to do. He wasn't sure what it was, but he took it in hand anyway. At the start of the meeting a gift materialized in his hand. The recipient wondered: what does he want from me? Oh, just see it as a gesture, the Gifter said. Like a friendly smile.

The Gifter had another job to do. Again he wasn't sure what it was, but …. what the heck. After the first lesson he went up to the teacher and a gift materialized in his hand. The recipient was amazed: I didn't expect this.  What do I do with this choice of nuts? Oh, just see it as a first helping, the Gifter said. Make some tea and put them in a bowl.

The Gifter had a job to do. Again. He wasn't sure what it was, but... he enjoyed the feeling. At the house of a lazy friend in need a gift materialized in his hand. The friend was embarrassed: What's this? I must say I appreciate it, but it feels like you're wrapping me in paper. Oh, just see it as a kick starter, the Gifter said. All you have to do is unwrap.

The Gifter met up with his brother, the Grifter. Long time no speak, the Gifter said. Yeah, how's the job going? the Grifter said. Can't complain. Seeing myself as a fraud works like a devil. I took your advice, the Grifter said. Seeing myself as a friend pays off divinely.

A gift materialized in their hands. Why do I deserve this, the Gifter said. I deserve this and more, the Grifter said.

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.

Two guys pass each other on the street.
Hey, do I know you?
Could be, in a past life.
No, you look just like a Western actor.
Well, I act like a Westerner, but I’m currently studying a new role.
Week later. A guy passes a woman in a sports center.
Hey, aren’t you some famous tennis player? she said.
Well, the only ball I ever hit never came back.
Month later. A teenager passes a guy in a bar.
Hey, didn’t we have some beers together?
In the Crosscut Saw? In the Dying Buffalo?
Well, I remember sawing wood, and that buffalo died on me long ago.
I’ll give your regards to my brother.
Ah, get outta my face.
Two guys pass each other in a dream.
Hey, you’re my double.
Yeah, where’ve you been hanging out?

The Conspiracy Therapist opened his door. Two men led a blindfolded girl into the room. Sit down. Point is, just imagine two men led you into the room. They did. No, just imagine they did. Right, I will. Now, what do you feel? It's no crime anymore. Exactly. And what's left? Two men led me blindfolded into the room. And that's helplessly frightening.

The Conspiracy Therapist opened his door. Two male nurses wheeled a poisoned old man into the room. Sit up. Point is, just imagine two male nurses wheeled you into the room. They did. No, just imagine they did. Right, I will. Now, what do you feel? It's no mime anymore. Exactly. And what's left? Two male nurses wheeled me into the room. And that's helplessly sickening.

The Conspiracy Therapist opened his door. Two adolescents dragged a bruised boy into the room. Sit back. Point is, just imagine two adolescents dragged you into the room. They did. No, just imagine they did. Right, I will. Now, what do you feel?
It's no grime anymore. Exactly. And what's left? Two adolescents dragged me into the room. And that's helplessly hurting.

The Conspiracy Therapist closed his waiting room. He detected a tiny camera and a tapping device. Somebody's got to be behind this, he thought.

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.

There's the list. How many items? None. So? We have a nothing to do list. Who's listing? Enter Mister Lister. He's listing to be missed.

Even Mister Lister needs to go shopping every once in awhile. He bumps into a neighbor. Let me see your list. Ah, bleeding to feed. What's on yours, Lister? I got a nobody, a nowhere, a nothing and no time. Where's that gonna get you? Somebody, somewhere, something, some time. Well, you'll steal to meal. Lister laughed. I'll go meet to eat.

Even Mister Lister needs to work for a living every once in awhile. He's got a business. Things should go out, things should come in. Money should go out, money should go in. Customers should go out, customers should come in. Lister, what you telling to sell? You got nothing on your list, you're gonna find it. Ah, well, that's easy, every buy a goodbye. Chuckle. So I'm the fellow to hello, Lister said.

Even Mister Lister needs to reflect on life every once in awhile. He's got a teacher. Some call him a Goo-Roo. What does this guy teach? Longing to belong, aiming to name, striving to arrive. Lister chants: seeking to freak, spinning to grin, fooling to cool. The Goo-Roo is a sly guy. Great list, Lister. Eh, master, it's no list. I just misunderstood. Now, that's the door to enlightenment, my friend. Oh, master, all that light's only gonna show a whole lotta dots. Ah, connecting the dots. You're close, Lister.  Eh, master, what do we get? Just a straight line.

Shucks, Mister Lister thought,  I'm just summing to hum.

God works in ways mysterious to himself, a toothless drifter thought.

There's God, sitting on a cloud, doing nothing. Oh well, he's lightly pampered by angels and heavily pestered by Satan. The angels were just cuddling up and Satan was chewing his guts. Out of the blue, down in the mud they call earth, a young girl cried. Swat! God landed at the child's feet. Bunny broke his paw, she cried. Oh no, child, what can I do? Can't you mend it? Eh, I can cry with you. Now a double wailing commenced. And what do you know, this siren woke up the neighborhood doctor. Shoof! God rocketed back up to his cloud. He sat there, wondering what happened.

God works in ways mysterious to himself, the eyeless drifter thought.

There's God, sitting on a cloud, doing nothing. The angels clickclacked him to sleep and Satan drove a freight train through his head. Out of the blue, down in the mud they call earth, a man stood ready to throw himself in front of a train. Splat! God landed next to the rails. Don't do it, you're gonna die. That happens to be the plan. How did you know? Eh, I got my connections. Like, in wireless? Yeah. Just then the train passed. Hey, you made me miss my train. Shwoosh! God rocketed back to his cloud. He sat there, wondering what happened.

God works in ways mysterious to himself, the moneyless drifter thought.

There's God, sitting on a cloud, doing nothing. The angels showered his back with hot honeyed water and Satan slammed his shoulders with burning hooks. Out of the blue, down in the mud they call earth, an old person was lost. Shwam! God landed next to the old person. No, wait, he landed right on top of him. Or her? He couldn't tell. Now we're lost together, one of them said. Who? Well, you figure that out for yourself.

God works in ways mysterious to himself, the worryless drifter said. Suddenly he found himself in the midst of a street fest. The angels sang and danced with the Adorable Idiots Band and Satan gave away his Fire Fries and Brimstone Burgers. The drifter swung and swayed with his mouth full.

Look, there's God, the Bunny Child said to his mama. Tuttut, the mama said, no, that can't be, that poor man's just happy for a change.

A man was writing a prayer and reading it back aloud. It was a call for help and mercy to God about his health.
He closed the notebook and went to a troubled sleep.
The following day he opened the notebook to write a new prayer and the prayer began speaking back.
I must have a word with you, Prayer said. You’re calling for help and mercy, and you expect this message to come across just like that. You don’t see me as a living being?
The man was shocked. I thought God would answer, but now my own writing is doing that.
Talk to me like I’m your neighbor, not a gofer.
The man took this to heart and wrote, Dear Prayer, I’m sick, the doctor says it’s gonna take a while. When will I recover?
Next night the man opened his notebook and straightaway Prayer started talking.
Who do you think I am? A psychic? I’m a stranger you just met on the street. Would you pray like that to him?
No, the man said, let me try again.
Dear Prayer, I’m in a bad state, I fear for my life. I pray I will regain my health.
Following night the man opened his notebook again and Prayer jumped at it.
I’m someone you would like to meet. Would you pray like that to such a person?
Who would I like to meet? How do I know?
Dear Prayer, it looks like I’m just praying to myself, so I pray to myself that I will
regain my vigor and vitality.
Next night once the notebook was open, Prayer said, now it looks like you found the person you always wanted to meet.
At that very moment the man’s Guardian Angel descended on Prayer and said, Prayer, get back in your book, you talk too much.

The Impersonal Trainer decided to open shop. I need a sign. On my door? I don't have a door. Next to my tent? I don't have a tent. On my forehead? Shoowee, I have a forehead, but I want it blank. Drop it, let's start up this bizniz with some buzzness.

Hey, there's a client. Watt-chew want? Oh, trainer, I'm in my head all day. Talkin' about day, you in there all night as well? Oh yeah, at night it takes over totally. You hit the nail. Let your night be your day. You mean, sleepwalk? You just graduated. Dream on, here's your money.

Hey, there's the next client. Watch-hue want? Oh trainer, I lost control over my body. One limb shakes, other stiffens? Oh yeah, one has to stop, the other has to go. Now, I got a thousand-and-one exercises. Do I do them all? Eh, that's gonna cost you. Pick one at random. You gotta force me to a choice. Force! You're halfway there. Do number 134. How many times? 134. Where's the machine? The machine, that's you. Go buy yourself a new whip, here's your money.

Hey, there's another client. Wash-shoe want? Oh trainer, I got trouble with feeling and emotion. Ah, destination arrived. Fee-ling is about being the one who pays, e-motion is about the one who virtually moves. Gibberish, explain. Shush, that's hard. Walk a mile in your wallet. Oh yeah, I'm paying everyday. Now, walk a mile inside yourself. Like breathing? Looky-here, you're getting somewhere.
Well, I'm moving on, here's your bitcoins.

The Impersonal Trainer sat down to do his numbers. One: I'm helping people that help themselves. Two: I'm helping myself who doesn't know what help he needs. Three: I'm helping the Help-Thing that doesn't need help. Ah, stop, this getting personal.

Well, wellness, that’s what this man is talking.
After his father died he was sitting in the Finnish sauna and realized:
dry heat, silence, discipline.
Just like my dad.
Suddenly he was present, and remained that way.

Wellness, oh well, still talking this guy.
After his mother died he was sitting in the Turkish bath:
humid, close to the skin, hot breath.
Just like my mum.
And there she was, and stayed that way.

Well, well, wellness, same person talking.
Now his parents were gone and he was alone.
He slowly immersed himself in the cold bath:
shivering, enveloping, awakening.
Just like me.
So he was present and remained that way.

Later he thought: how about freezing?
Three minutes in minus 110 degrees.
Burning blizzard, freezing fire.
Even more like me.
But the blood curdled, the blood lumped.
Well or no wellness, he thought and stepped out
to face whatever temperature, dry or humid,
the world had to offer.

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.

The Turkish Bath Therapist had an appointment with a patient. He entered the steam bath of Spa Scanty. Inside an old man waited for his fifteen minutes of blame. How was your day, the Turkish Bath Therapist said. My friend's an ache in the head. Don't let him in there. You got an other heated room to receive him in? No sweat.

The Turkish Bath Therapist had an appointment with a second patient. He entered the steam bath of Spa Spacy. Inside a young woman waited for her fifteen minutes of shame. How was your day, the Turkish Bath Therapist said. My friend's all over me. Dip yourself in warm oil and slither out. What kind of oil? Try one that smells the best. No sweat.

The Turkish Bath Therapist had an appointment with a last patient. He entered the steam bath of Spa Sprawly. Inside a young girl waited for her fifteen minutes of frame. How was your day, the Turkish Bath Therapist said. My friend's bullying me to death. Ask her if she's enjoying it. I go all red in the face. So you're asking for the bull to charge. Let her charge and step aside. The finishing ****** will come from elsewhere. No sweat.

This Hot Turkey Method sure is a sweat, the Turkish Bath Therapist thought. Got to hurry now, my FreezeFysician is waiting

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.

This guy Al ‘Bag’ Daddy drives up in his limousine. It’s the home of his friend who is poor as a rat.
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy parks his car against the garbage can and smashes it.
His friend on the porch looks up and says, Hey Al, new car?
No, says Al, this is my old one. Want it?
His friend says, you buy me a new garbage can.
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy curses and drives off, screaming, you’re gonna stay trash yourself.

Al ‘Bag’ Daddy comes around to visit his friend again, who is poor as dirt.
He drives up in a new sports car, dressed in a fur coat.
He screeches to a halt, but manages to tear up a rug hanging over the porch balcony.
Hey Al, got a new coat? No, this used to be my dad’s. Want it?
So I can use it as a rug?
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy curses and races off, screaming, my shoes wouldn’t want you as a doormat.

Al ‘Bag’ Daddy comes around to his friend again who is poor as a match stick.
He drives up in a Hummer with a green Stetson on his head. The vehicle screeches to a halt, knocking down a just planted young apple tree.
Hey Al, got a new hat?
No, it used to be my gardeners’. Want it?
Send along your gardener with a new apple tree.
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy curses and races off, screaming, tree? You sit there all day, just like one.
Hey Al, got a point.

The friend popped up at Al’s mansion on an antique bike. He sideswiped a marble statue of a cherub.
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy shouted, you’re gonna pay for the smallest scratch.
Friend said, want the bike? I got two, one too much.
Yeah, Al said, seeing a profit, gimme the bike. I love anything on wheels.
But how are you gonna get back home?
Is that limousine still on offer?

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.

What? The earth is flat? Then I’m a balloon.
No, you want proof?
You bet your flat feet.
I gotta warn you, parties will try to bamboozle you.
Try me.
Take a long walk with a glass of water in you hand. If it spills, the earth is round.
After.
Well, I  took a long walk, got thirsty and started seeing things, so drank a bit, and the water spilled over.
See, parties put substances in the water.
Try me again.
Take a plane and if you end up topsy-turvy, it’s round.
After.
Well, we ended topsy-turvy alright, cause the pilot started doing somersaults.
See, parties manipulated your perception.
Try me again.
Go find the largest telescope there is, look through it and if you don’t see a sign saying THE END OF THE WORLD, it’s round.
After.
Well, I saw a sign, but it said NO TRESPASSING.
Yeah, parties pretend to have secret military bases.
Heard talk about that, where they keep guys from other planets and their real flat flying things.

The Powerlesser stood in front of his door. Inside or outside, that was the answer. Right, outside he went. He met a value guarding man. The Powerlesser asked him: what can I do outside? Exhibit your virtue, Mr Value Guard said. And what if nobody comes to see it? You double the admission price. I wouldn't pay that price myself.

The Powerlesser stood in front of his door. Inside or outside, that was the answer. Right, inside he went. In his kitchen a quick goldy little girl waited for him. The Powerlesser asked her: what can I do in my kitchen? Pour me a cold soda or make me a warm mud bath, Miss Quick Gold said. How do I choose? Well, just do something different. Like putting some paint and paper in front of you? Can do. And you paint your face for war.

The Powerlesser stood in front of his door. Inside or outside, that was the answer. Right, he stood on the threshold. An open directed young boy came to his door. The Powerlesser asked him: what can I do on this threshold? Just stand there and listen to my story, Mr Open Direction said. I'm standing and I'm listening. Oh well, I haven't got one today. Alright, in the meantime I'll listen to my feet.

The world is full of teachers, masters and guides in eternal truths. And the best deal is fleeting falsehoods. They know they're teachers, masters or guides in eternal truths. So they're not bothered by their falsehoods floating by. And then you've got the ones that don't know they're teachers, masters or guides.

Like Mr. Loowie. What does he do? Well, he sits and talks like all the others.

Goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure know my bikes. Remember that broken down bike I fixed. You don't remember. I remember. That bike's still running. Won't start me a bike shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't know about bikes, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, gonna see if my bike needs fixing. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Or goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure know my way round town. Remember that old shop on that old street? You don't remember. I remember that old shop on that old street. That old shop is closing down. Couldn't make ends meet. I met the owner the end of the week. Couldn't find a buyer. I can buy that. Won't start me a tour guide shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't know about town, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, gonna try to find my way round town. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Or goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure had some fun working at the grocer shop. And at the drug store shop. And at the stationer's shop I had so much fun with the girls. We laughed, we laughed. No ***** tonky, mind you. I won't start me a fun shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't  know about having fun, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, now I know where to look for a laugh. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Follower meets friend. Sounds like no way traffic. Eh, yeah, well, gotta go somewhere, may as well hitch a ride. Sounds like he's selling you *******. Eh, yeah, well, they say it's good for the garden. Gotta give it to you, not a pinch of falsehood in there. Eh, yeah, well, I guess that much is true. Tell you what, he can only handle one follower at a time. Ah, reminds me of my dentist.

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.

Two boys played soccer together alongside a river. The ball went up high in the air and dropped in the water with a splash. One of the boys went after it.
He stepped into the river and felt the water pull and push him this way and that.
Oh, he said to the reeds standing near the river bank, you just stand there easily.
Me, I just have to work hard to keep from falling. How do you do this?
Well, the reeds said, the way you do it, you're just like the ball you're trying to get.
We just stand and move with the flow of the water.
Now that's nice, the boy said, how can I stand and move at once?
Well, said the reeds, to move you first have to stand firm and relaxed.
Then when you move, you do this from a firm position, and move to the next firm and relaxed position.
The boy bent his knees slightly and stepped forward slowly. And stood there a moment with bent knees, gently moving with the water.
O, reeds, he said, how wonderful to be like you.
Yes, said the reeds, but we won't get your ball for you.

Two boys loved to go fishing. One was tall and proud, but small and timid on the inside. The other was small and soft, but tall and strong on the inside.
One day they went fishing in the river. The tall and proud one wore an old and shabby coat, but had a lot of money on him, his savings for a scooter. The small and timid one wore a flashy new coat, but his wallet was practically empty, having spent all his money on the flashy new coat.
With their rods and bait they looked for a good spot to fish. The tall and proud one proposed a bet: who would catch the biggest fish. Alright, said the small and timid one, what does the winner take? As much money as I have in my wallet, said the tall and proud one, thinking so I can buy the best scooter there is. Well, the small and timid one thought, if I lose it’ll cost me my new coat and I’ll be cold for the whole winter. But if I win, I can buy my little brother a coat. We have a bet, he said.
They chose a quiet spot at the river bend and sat waiting till the fish would bite.
Soon afterwards the tall and proud one caught a small fish, but threw it back in the water. A little later he caught another small one and again threw it back. The big fish are yellow, he thought.
The small and timid one felt a pull on his rod, drew it up and noticed that the bait was gone. He tried again, but same thing: the bait was gone. The fish are smart today, he thought.
In the meantime it was getting dark. Two other boys came walking along the river. They had a mind to rob someone. Look, one of them said, two guys fishing. Let’s see if they caught something. I could use a nice meal. Well, the other one said, I hope they have some money, so we can treat ourselves to a restaurant.
Stealthily they swooped down on the fishers. With knives out they demanded them to hand over what they got.
We haven’t caught anything, the boys said.
You don’t have any money? the robbers said.
I’m saving for a new scooter, the tall and proud one said, and started to cry.
Give it to me, the restaurant eater said.
Shaking all over the tall and proud one handed it to him.
What about you? the home eater said to the small and timid one.
I’ve only got my new coat, he said.
Give it to me, maybe I can swap it for a better fisher than you.
Calmly he handed over his new coat.
I’ll be cold now.
You really cold?
Alright, take back your coat, now give me your rods and can of fat worms.
And off they went.
The two boys walked back home. One without the money to buy a new scooter, the other with his new coat still on, the first small and timid, the second strong and proud.
One robber spent all the money on a multi course meal at a fancy restaurant, and ended up feeding the fish with his puke.
The other robber went fishing with the rod and bait but clumsily kicked over the can and the worms ended up in the river.
And the winner of the fishing match? That were the fish. First they took all the bait of the two boys, then they feasted on the remains of a copious meal and for dessert they got a whole can of worms.

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.