Yes Yes

when God created love he didn't help most
when God created dogs He didn't help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when He created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high
and when He created suicide He was low

when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountians and the sea and fire at the same time

He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.

-Charles Bukowski

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For Whom the Whale Rolls

From the hills of oblivion to the shores of despair he walked with the

voracity of a man half his age and only a tenth his girth. He thought

nothing of the transparent insects lodging themselves in his pores. The

insects quickly went to work mating and obtaining mid-level management

jobs. Rather, his thoughts did not waiver from the task he had set himself

to: the salvation of his race. The very scope of his task caused sweat to

pool on his back and in his shoes. His feet pounded the rough terrain,

until his foot encountered a rock. The misstep set him sideways, his body

no longer touching any semblance of soil, he plunged in a crevasse - never

to be heard from again.

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How dare I?

Don't play the game, play the hater. Why can't we all just go away?
Perhaps when the world ends I will get my way. I have confidence in
the process, but find the components disconcerting and weird. The end of days is just a cliche way of saying that nobody likes you and your friends are carbon-based assholes. I'm tired of being objectified by the universe. I'm not willing to put as much effort into this causal relationship as I should. Rage against the dying of the speed of light.

Vote Jesus

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Very Close Vain

It’s becoming too late in the game of life to remain on the losing team.
However, treason is the greatest of crimes.
Rook takes Queen.
King takes Pawn.
Time is irrelevant but annoyingly prescient.

Where have you been all of my life?
Myself.
Movement through pieces, but an odd requirement on distance.
Cut the check to my mate.

There must be some way out of here...

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

Misinterpreted Epicurus

Easy now…this is no time to be rushing into things. It must be gently eased into. Atlas didn’t realize how easy he had it. What a burden one has with this mortal coil. Thrust it off? Too easy – perhaps too tempting in its simplicity. I long for a feeling beyond the mundane – reinvigoration. Complacency…Consistency…the trappings of normalcy. May as well be dead.

Mental and physical pain has lost its appeal. Someone please usher in the pleasure – the limitless, inhibitionless pleasure. Misinterpreted Epicurus would be proud.

The light is just around the corner – happiness is surely in the light. Same old day, different shit.

Jesus and the New Zealand Frictions

Friends,
It's time once again for the annual Meeks family Christmas letter. Just a quick note from the clan to let you all know what's been happening in our lives in the last year. First, our oldest child, Jabopolous, was accepted into a program for the mentally sterile. He spends his days building imitation coffee mugs out of recycled zip-lock bags and lime Jell-O. He seems to enjoy it well enough except for the ridiculous amount of theoretical physics equations they are forced to compute, at gunpoint, between the hours of 2 and 4 AM, Eastern Standard Time. The twins, Nestle and The Stye, are serving time in a federal penitentiary for the various crimes they committed across seven states and the US Virgin Islands. Since I described in such detail their wrong doings in last year's letter I won't harass you with the details now. However, I would like to apologize for giving perhaps too precise a description of their less than benevolent actions towards that horse and blind child in Alabama. Based on the angry voice-mails I received, that did not sit well with most of you. Our youngest, Jesus, and his Rap-Folk Trio Jesus and the New Zealand Frictions have been touring the world. But my sources tell me that they have been spending more time doing high quality Columbian heroin off the backs of shaved and sedated polar bears than actually playing music. Oh, those boys of mine. As for Gerardo and I, we couldn't be better. Since our concurrent surgeries to have our hypothalamus and cancerous tea nodes removed, respectively, we have spent our lives in an all-Jeopardy and vanilla-laced taco supreme haze. Well, Gerardo needs the 11th of his 19 daily root-beer float sponge baths so I must be going. The best to you and yours this hamtastic holiday season.

Merrily,
Mrs. Jake Meeks