The Land Untread

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I seek a land touched by few

Where from the sky I do not see the trails of man

Only the endless, endless underneath white puffs gliding

And I know in this place I will never place my modern feet upon

For if I do, then I will know a man has tread where no one has before

And left the refined dirt beneath my shoes upon the free and pristine wild

So if I find this land I will tell none

And sit with smile wide because I hold a secret touched only by sight

A secret that whisks over my heart with ache

Displacing my mind in yearning to become that distant spread unknown

Yet, I find myself here

In metallic, sleek flying tube soaring high above the jammed earth

Still searching

Still seeking always

And now I almost land on tilled asphalt, handmade world of my brothers and sisters

This concrete, sky-blocked place

Where I do not belong

– Lost Rabbit

The Ledge of Madness

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I’m still plugging away at this book of mine, BOX. Thought I’d share a preview of chapter 5. Feedback appreciated.

DREAM 5 – CLIFF

I have walked. A million desperate miles between awakening, dying, coming back to life and now my familiar shoes are tired. I leave them behind, a fading memory. And as I shed the remnants of a worn out life, I miss nothing for I am willing to give up everything.

The eternal highway. An endless road of darkened sunspots littering the valley pass. My gaze rests frantically on a horizon that never seems to come any closer. The clouds, a great mouth agape and chomping at the bit in despair. I wonder if this giant row of red teeth in the sky would bleed sun rays should I reach up with the hand of a god and pry one loose. Better to let them be to continue their world devouring lest I unleash their gnawing vengeance upon myself. I let my mind float to the back of my memory while my body continues its automaton function of this endless drive. Somehow this all seems so familiar. 

The nightmare is the dream. The dream is the nightmare.

*Breaking News* – An explosion has rocked Continental City. Details remain scarce, but a large, red cloud bloom can be seen floating above. We can only speculate what caused the explosion. Stay tuned as we gather more information and report further.

Has it really been 5 days since I set myself upon his plan of escape? 5 days since I had died a little death and succumbed under the weight of guilt? I can’t remember the last time I have eaten. My emaciated body is starving away, serving as punishment for a black deed wrongly committed. My ribs are beginning to dance through the sweat of my shirt and I can feel the metabolic feast on my muscles as they slowly diminish.

Fortunately, I had enough survival foresight to stockpile the car with the water I needed. The leftover bottles are now serving an additional purpose. Over the past 128 hours I have grown into the habit of relieving myself into any receptacle I have lying around the car. Throughout my automotive guilt box are the scattered bottles containing copious amounts of yellow, rotten fluid. These aren’t the actions of a crazed man, but a desperate and disparate one. All I want is to get as far away, as fast as possible. I have made up my mind to only pull over and stop only for the bare minimum time it takes to refuel. Every minute I stop is time for my ruined past to catch up to me. My mind is running away from itself in search of a last resort to continue on with sanity. Forgiveness has to be somewhere out there on that lonely road of the shackled and damned.

Forgiveness. A fantasy bastion of hope. I know I am fooling myself into thinking that there is anyway to atone for what I have set in motion. My despair will be everlasting and a knowing badge forever imprinted on my aching heart. My eyes are beginning to glaze over and my thoughts turn darkly inwards. In my mesmerized and displaced state I can feel the workings of my body complying to what I need, to what I crave. My foot slams towards the floor of the car. My body knows what its master seeks. Speed! I need speed! More of it to get me further away from myself. Perhaps, if I drive fast enough I can dilate time and leave the difference of myself in the past. I can then be free of my own pestilence and separate into an alternate future where I could settle, find the great love of my life, live free and unbound. My children would know only wonders and I would be their proud, loving father instilling within them the wisdom only fathers can pass on. They would grow to become the great speakers and leaders of society that I never had a chance to become. When asked, they would unanimously point to me, their father, as their greatest influence and source of inspiration. I, Denree Lucien, would finally achieve greatness by proxy and future generations would revere my teachings and admire me, this humble man who came from the streets of poverty to produce some of the greatest minds the world would ever see. See. Fantasy. What a silly fantasy.

My eyes slowly come back into focus from my day hallucination. The red teeth above draw closer with their aching maw. This isn’t a trick my unravelling mind is playing on me. I thought I had been imagining it, but the clouds above have slowly formed into a giant clawed mouth descending upon my position in the world. The sun beats behind it, pushing it ever downwards upon a rail of devil hued rays. I have never seen such a sun with the intensity of Promethean fire; the fire of beginnings, endless beginnings telling me that I will forever be trapped in a cycle without the ending that I wish for. I am fixated. The great eye in the sky pokes through where a tooth is missing, bringing its gaze upon me and now we are locked in a battle of wills where the victor is already assumed. I am in a race to avoid being consumed except I am racing backwards towards my sins. If I win, my victory will be my demise.

This isn’t what I expected. I was promised the dream not the nightmare.

*News Update* – We have picked up the broadcasts of emergency responders and from what we can glean, there is severe radioactive fallout within at least a 10 mile radius of Continental City. Roadblocks have been setup and travelers in the area are warned to stay at least 60 miles away. All communications are down within city limits and, as of now, we do not know if there are survivors. All signs point to a nuclear bomb that was set off. More to come.

I’ve dreamt of happiness only three times in my youth. The first was the strength of my father’s hands around my tiny wrists as he spun me round and round into dizzying heights. That day had been a singular day between us of carefree and wanton joy. A father and his son spinning on a needle head point in time. Our laughter came from deep within our bellies when we both collapsed in a disoriented heap upon the soft grass at our favorite park. He rubbed my head and hugged me tight and in that fleeting moment I held in my heart an infinite space filled with pride and joy and all of the things that a boy feels for his father, his guiding light. The next day he was gone without a word. Abandoned. That was the end of that dream.

My second delirium of happiness was the first time I placed my lips upon the softness of another’s in desire. Truth or Dare. A stupid game kids play to test the boundaries of honesty and random exhilaration. This was how I earned my chance at my first adolescent kiss. Truth or Dare. I chose Dare and the salacious group chose Lust’s Kiss. I gulped in embarrassment and froze in place. I had never kissed another in that fashion. The thought of practicing had never crossed my mind for who would ever kiss a quiet, loner kid with few friends. The others randomly chose the girl next to me and turned us to face each other. Alicia was celestial and exuded the soft glow only girls knew how to give off. I was a brute in her presence. The pressure was building and others began chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” louder and louder. I raced to think on how to do this and then I remembered something my father had once told me about the first kiss he had ever had with my mother, “Gently, I took her in my arms and came face to face with her, eye to eye. I looked beyond the surface of her self and probed deeply into her yearning soul. I caressed her face and brought her lips closer to mine, but did not touch them. Not yet. We shared a momentary breath and when she finally closed her eyes, we touched our parted lips ever so softly. And when we finally released, I brought my gaze back to hers and smiled with my eyes upon hers. That is how you kiss a woman, son.”

This is how I proceeded, making sure to follow each careful step as related to me by my father. When the deed was done, I turned sheepishly away in tortured awkwardness and slunk back to my seat to grumble in despair and embarrassment. It was only when I finally looked up that I noticed the hush that had come across the group and the only sound that broke the silence was Alicia’s soft gasp, “Wow.” I walked home that night with puffed chest and the confidence of 100 titanic men. The next day I looked for Alicia to ask her to the movies, but when I ran into her with her mates, they pretended my existence was but a mockery. I should have known the natural order of high school would prevail and that we would go back to occupying our social roles. Forever the lonely kid wearing the skin of an outsider looking in. And thus my second dream was so easily crushed.

Is the third dream even worth repeating? It ends the same in desecrated despondence. It was just a dance. Nothing fancy. Just two people swept away in time and space to an absurdly maudlin song, but it was Her, wasn’t it? She was that Her that people talk about when speaking of soul mates and angels. She was the one who always walked with a spotlight tracking her and the wind blowing through her sex and form and forever locks of hair. Damn, Her! If only I had never asked for that blissful first dance, then we wouldn’t have wasted those many years between us in silent divide that grew too treacherous for both our hearts to bridge over. Damn, me.

That was then and happiness still remains only a dream

*News Update* – The space above the city has been declared a no fly zone until the radioactive cloud disperses. The cloud itself is predicted to pose no further danger due to strong westward winds blowing it across the surrounding desert. FEMA is being called in to manage the crisis and help emergency crews launch a survivor recovery mission. We have had no contact from anyone within city limits and we fear the worst.

Have you come to devour me? Your teeth are still stained with the blood of those scoundrels you have gulleted before me. Don’t think you can hide your intentions. You descend upon fast winds in a zeal reserved only for the most dedicated of fiends. Demon. Brute. Hellion. Rogue. You hunt and feast on the defeated. Does our ruin taste sweet going down? Your suffuse grin is answer enough. Then I suppose I will be a veritable smorgasbord. Piece by piece, you will nibble and gnaw on me, crunch on my bones, suck the marrow, and leave behind a husk of discarded bits you find unpalatable. I suppose even a fiend like you won’t swallow the bile of a magnificently failed man.

My foot is to the floor and, even though it may be inevitable that you will gobble me up, I race you to oblivion. It is the last thing I can try to do. If I must fail, then let me fail in spectacular fashion by outracing my steward sky that is falling on top of me.

There.

On the horizon.

I race for the ledge. See if you can catch me.

*News Update* – FEMA has provided us with hazmat suits and is allowing a small news team to accompany them on a search and rescue mission within the outer vicinity of Continental City. Inner city limits are still too dangerous to probe. Thus far, we have passed hundreds of stranded cars on the freeway. Each of them containing the irradiated and charred husks of those poor unfortunate souls who found themselves too far within the fallout blast radius. We have happened upon zero survivors. If we find even one, it will be a miracle.

I can feel the grin spreading maniacally across my face. I’ve found the finish line that has eluded me these past few tormented days. It is where the world stops and my escape begins. That steep ledge rushing to greet me poses the answer. If I must be ruined, then let me be ruined on my own terms. I won’t submit to your salivating lips. I can see you twisting and turning your tongue across your teeth in anticipation. Not today. You will have to find another meal to satiate your blood lust. We poor souls are not without means and this day one of us will claim his own destiny and respite from the demon head come from the sky.

You roar. I laugh. You chase. I run to that chasm where even you can’t reach. Look down there. That’s an ending you didn’t anticipate, I bet. You thought I would choose your type of oblivion, a desperation that plugs like a cork screw ever turning without pulling. You will have to be more alluring than that. Your ever expanding, lipless mouth is not the type of sexiness that I want to kiss with my guilty lips. These lips will be reserved for my windshield when I crash head first into the stop from the fall and they will kiss with a lasting smile crushed forever into my splintered face.

…no word from any survivors…

One time, I swam to a rock out in the middle of the Aegean sea. I swam with all my might to make the first handhold and when I finally reached the upper limits of my physical exhaustion, I touched hard, jagged land. I crawled up on top of that rock and looked back over the mile I had swam. I was fatigued, depleted, and forlorn not because I looked back upon that lonely mile which I would have to recross, but because I had not failed and drowned. The rock was supposed to be my unreachable goal. I was supposed to flail, out of breath for its salvation and fade from the history of man, but my stubborn body fought for life and kept my watery grave from me. I cursed that day, “Why?!” and received in answer the sound of an empty vacuum.

I ask now, “Please.”

Cliff. Ledge. Friend. Please. Take my sorrows and ram them into  the ground so that they may scatter and disperse back into soft dust. I am a wicked man who does not even deserve a wicked end. Just give me empty non-remembrance and save others from my flaws and faults.

…we can only hope…

You’re almost upon me and I can see into your esophagus. It’s lined with rows upon rows of churning teeth ready to systematically split me piece by piece and take me to your demon plane where you will use my soul to fuel your eternal rage. I can see the others struggling to climb away, but your tongue laps them up and undulates them into those vicious chompers. In the end, only hands attached to disembodied arms hang on and wriggle from nerves ending their death throes.

Give me more speed. Almost there. C’mon!

…in the night we hold each other in huddled prayer…

There is no more time for prayers. I have moved beyond hope for grace or personal salvation and if this is to be, then I will neither be for sacrifice nor damnation. I will dictate the terms of my own end. I will drop over that edge that is canvassed before me with speeding clarity and plummet to freedom. Freedom from the debilitations that course through my heart. When this heart stops, this insufferable, soiled heart, I will have the silence I need. I will close my eyes and give the only true smile I have ever given and fade.

…night fades into day and the search for survivors continues, but as far as the eye can see is the fiery haze of singed blight. There is doubt that anyone is alive out there in that tragic wasteland. The heart of a nation cries and mourns for friends, family, loved ones lost. Each day only brings a despondent silence…

I am ready. The last mile lays before me and I am reaching escape velocity. Here it comes. The launch. The downward tilt. The fall and tumble. I can feel it in my stomach. The trap door expansion in my gut that tells me gravity is an ever present force to contend with. I am determined to face this impact with presence and open eyes.

What is this?

I see in the rearview mirror your lashing tongue elongated and splitting into a multitude of curlicue tendrils fiercely licking at my rear end. Behind your Medusa tongue is a sickly, satisfied smile. The gas pedal is useless for these tires attached to nothing but rushing air. You knew this didn’t you? You knew that you would be able to reach me in this futile, free fall escape. You were only playing with your prey and giving me false hope. Oh, how insidious and methodical you are at this game. You truly are the great demon come from the sky to maraud and pillage the despondent fools who have lied and cheated themselves out of any wellspring of hope. I am such a fool and now you loom over me and show me the futility of running away.

It’s right there rushing up before me. That sweet, sweet dusty ground that waits with open arms for the potential of smashing machine and man together in one broken mass. And you will take it all away from me. This is it. Suspended between my mortal end and the hellfire of an eternal, crimson mouth.

I still accelerate downwards, but if you have the wherewithal to reach me before I twist into a mangled crush…

Have at it then!

…in the dead of night a singular miracle has presented itself. A signal flare has been shot from the center of Continental City. A lone survivor is reaching out for help. Emergency crews are now mobilizing in force and we can only hope there are more who have made it…

Streaming Flood

streamconscious_landing

First Stream Of Consciousness for 2015

I’ve got a mental plug I need to pull and let loose the flood of brain crazy pent up in that potato chip bag I call Floritos, that’s right, I just called my mind a bag of chips, salty, processed, platinum bullshit fountain spewing boogers of inanity, what?, backup and pause, let’s rethink this puzzler, captain of conundrum and cognitive cryptograms, this is the name I have given myself because I am the fucking shit…muncher licking up the salt wound shit stains on the sidewalks of San Franpissco, why is this city so nasty with its broken down toilet seat escalators?, how’s that for irony?, ban plastic bags, get a citywide enema and urinary tract infection, alright I just got back on the gross short bus, sorry about that fellas and girl fellas, or should I call you hellraisers, fantastic exclamation points of walking human vibrancy, you are the secret stars of a city gone mad frenzy with self importance by lukewarm poseurs imitating pop artholics, yeah, bro, big data for the win! everything is a system to be solved and stuck under the thumb of analytics, hey, didn’t you know you’re just a number in a cog spinning 1’s and 0’s repeatedly, day in and night out, getting crunched by big servers with big digital balls, well, I’ve got some good ol’ fashioned fleshy cajones to wiggle waggle wibble wobble atcha, be the big X, that big anomaly .0000000000001 that makes those black boxes wrinkle with their petabytes of power and heat smoke stroke suffer shutdown hell, get those unblinking empty eyes with some life and live a little in the world or can you even see green trees anymore through that green screen of matrix dribble?, I’ve got chills/they’re multiplying/and I’m losing control, get on the Lo-Fang, forget the swarmy marmy Grease, but you don’t need no man, you don’t need anyone to give you lucid lectures that pin your spirit down under parsed semantics and technicalifragiliciousnous, fuck you insidious insipid ignoble ignoramuses, get out there and be in the world.

yeah, the sky says hi. can you even see it anymore?

– Rebel Rabbit

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Say Wha?

trailer park boy what

A Great Day For Aphasia

I think what I want, but I am not heard. I’m finally awake in thought, but I’m trapped inside a malfunctioning body with the voice of a cretin. What a delinquent team we make. The irony is spectacular.

Fuschia!

Aphasia, dumb ass. Get it right. The word is aphasia. A-pha-sia.

A-flu-shot! I have a flu shot!

C’mon, man. We sound like we just got off the damn short bus. Everyone is staring and laughing at us. Make it work. Make the mouth say the things we want to say. How hard can it be? We know how to make our mouth move. We know what kind of thoughts and sounds should come out of it. Just fucking do it!

Can I…hrmmmm…piss in your water? I would like piss in your water. Yes. This I want.

What?! They’re really going to think we’re out of our minds now. Who wants piss in their water. Fuck, man. We need to piss so bad. Let’s just go look for the restroom before they call security on our ass.

I am so tired of all the incredulous stares with their mocking judgement. Their stares are impossibly suffocating and pin my spirit down on the spit ridden ground. It’s not my fault I’m like this. It’s not my fault a fucking drunk driver ran through the intersection I was walking through, throwing me twenty feet into the air to land head first. Fuck that guy. They never even caught him because he drove off like a cowardly dog running off with its shit stained tail between its legs. I spent three months in the hospital warding off the death spirits with mental hexes and wizardry. I thought that was the most difficult part. To fight my coma and make my way back to the land of the living so that I could get back to my life.

I had epic kung fu fights in my mind as I sailed from roof top to roof top battling shadow ninjas whose nasty mouths were filled with poisoned, serrated teeth that they plucked and threw at me like ninja stars. I dodged and weaved in aerial maneuvers that would make a nifty Cirque Du Soleil act. When I finally got to the temple of Wake The Fuck Up, I battled like Bruce Lee in Game of Death, making my way up each flight of stairs to face the boss occupying each level.

There was Sweet Cheek the goblin made of candy corns who fought with needles filled with saccharine syrup. He tried to kill me with diabetes. Diabetes! What the fuck? I got past that guy with the Toothbrush of Triumph. Don’t ask.

Then there was Black Anaconda. Let’s just say that battle was not pleasant in the stay away from my asshole with your rape stick kind of unpleasant. Fuck that guy. Fuck him with all the fucks in the world. I never actually killed him, but let’s just say he’s a tangled mess.

Suck A Bus wasn’t too bad. She was sexy as hell except when she transformed into a tentacled gaping chasm of man-eating teeth. I sure as shit never saw that coming. I thought I just needed to give her some of my patented Steven Chan sweet talk, but noooo she had to go all Japanese hentai on my ass. I actually didn’t fight her. I just ended up telling her about Black Anaconda down below and she slithered away. Those two were meant for each other.

The worst was Pooccini. That guy was a hot mess with his karaoke style opera. Imagine William Hung drunk out of his mind singing La Bohéme and then imagine William Hung drunk out of his mind singing La Bohéme while flinging his shit at you like a macaque monkey. Yeeeeeah. I had to get really creative with that one by plugging both his mouth and poop hole with my fists until he filled up with his own gasses and exploded. I never want to hear opera ever again. *shudder*

Fortunately, that was the worst of it in my unconscious land of crazy. When I got to the top of the temple all I had to do was plug in the alarm clock sitting in the middle of the room and BAM! I woke out of my coma.

Three months after that I was up and walking around, but instead of being suave Steven Chan darling of San Francisco General Hospital, I had become word-fumbling, dip shit swamp mouth Steven Tongue-Tied. Check this out. Who’s the president of the United States?

Robert Downey, Jr.!

*sigh* My speech therapist says I’m making great progress but she doesn’t know how long it will ultimately take to get back to normal. It could be months. It could be years. It could be never. Well, at least she’s hot, but I can’t even tell her that because every time I do all that comes out is.

I want suck titties!

I’m pretty sure she knows I have the hots for her. I’m also pretty sure she and I will never happen. I’m double also sure that I’m never going to get laid again. At least, not while I’m Mr. Suck Titties anti-smooth operator.

Despite my current inability to fully connect my thoughts with spoken word, I do have to admit it’s far better than that first year when all that came out of me was an endless stream of uh’s, hmm’s, and nonsensical noise. If I was hungry, all I could do to communicate it to the nurse was to open and close my mouth with that disgusting tongue smacking that people do when they’re missing teeth. Getting the right television channel on was an act in futility. I still couldn’t nod or shake my head, so all I could do was try to make one “Ruurrrhhrhrrhr” louder than another “Ruurrrhhrhrrhr” to signal which channel I wanted the nurse to stop on. If I had to go to the bathroom? Just fart.

Eventually, something clicked in my brain and I was able to start muttering incoherent strings of words. The first words I said?

Chicken Pussy.

Because I wanted chicken chow mein and I was horny as hell. You try laying around all day eating shitty hospital food and getting all worked up when your nurse has to help you clean your genitals during bath time without the decency of giving you a happy ending hand job. Vulgar and indecent thought? Yes. Still horny? Fucking hell yeah.

The fifty year old nurse who was there when I said my first words must have thought I was some kind of sick bestiality pervert. Fortunately, the doctor was able to diagnose that I had expressive aphasia and didn’t report me as some kind of animal molesting freak.

Two years of intensive speech therapy later and I find myself at the grocery store asking to piss in their water because I still can’t say the word restroom. Shit. Here comes their security. They’re asking me to turn around and get out of the store. I really need to take a mad piss. C’mon. Do your best to tell them why you’re really here. You can do it!

I want to give you my yellow rain Mr. Bacon Wrap.

Aaaand here come the handcuffs. Fuck my life.

– Rascally Rabbit

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Wonder and Wander

Wanderers

Do You Wander?

I have been back in the San Francisco Bay Area for about 3 months now, but my recent road trip adventure stills plays on repeat in my mind. I witnessed endless plains of unmarked beauty, played around in Nebraska/Iowa/Chicago/Amish country, hung around cliffside lakes and waterfalls, learned that Missouri is for the birds, got an education in Kansas, explored a red clay wonderland, and woke up to a glorious morning on lonely salt flats. I even made the ultimate detour and ended up bringing my goofiness to Danish country where I met some fantastic new friends, experienced the tranquility of the countryside, visited a free town, and experienced an airport refugee camp on my return trip. That was quite an excursion and I still didn’t see everything I wanted to.

Now that I’m back, I’m hunkering down and finishing my book, BOX. The road trip helped fuel the creative juices as I was in a period of stagnation and inertia being stuck in San Francisco. I’m very close to finishing a pre-edit draft of the book by month’s end. Hopefully, it will be ready to show to the world in early 2015 as I work on prepping it for final edit and publishing. Don’t forget to sign-up for the mailing list. Exclusive clues to solving BOX will only be available to subscribers.

Next year, will be an interesting year for me as I wind down this project and look to ramp up others. I’m even thinking of doing something out of character for myself…actually celebrate my birthday. I’ll be turning 40 and I want to treat myself to the great Golden Eagle hunt of the tribes of Krgyzstan. I figure I’m not getting any physically younger (I’m still mentally 15) and should take the opportunity to see some more remote parts of the world before my body decides it doesn’t want to play nice anymore. Even if that happens, I will always be a wanderer and I encourage all of you to be the same. The wonders of the world are all out there waiting for you. What are you waiting for?

Wander and wonder forevermore.

– Just Rabbit Today

 

I’ll Split A Danish With You

AAR HUS

A Spontaneous Danish Excursion

Here’s the story, folks. I’ve been on the road across America for the past 5 months working on BOX. Somewhere along the way, I hung around the mid-west a bit longer than I had planned.  A few weeks went by and I mulled over the conundrum of how to make a random trip to Denmark happen without a budget for it. I searched high and dry for a cheap ticket. I considered all layover possibilities, but to no avail. But then I had an epiphany. My father travels back and forth to China all the time and has amassed a treasure trove of miles. He is actually a 1 million mile card holder for United Airlines. Go Dad! So that having dawned on me, I asked if I could use some of his miles for my excursion and, voila!, I was able to go to Denmark for a spontaneous detour. [Side note: If you ever want to use a family member’s miles for United, it’s easy to do over the phone. Doing it online is nigh impossible to credit the miles to a different traveler besides the owner of the miles. They really need to fix the online system.]

I ended up grabbing an AirBnB in Aarhus. The place was conveniently down the road to the seaside and gave me the peace I needed away from the busy city. Copenhagen would be later in the week on my itinerary. I already posted about my first day there which was pretty much fooling around with the bus system and finding the local grocery store then taking it easy. Day two, I spent a good chunk of time visiting Aarhus University and Aarhus Central.

Suspicions Arise

You should know by now that you can’t travel with me without getting involved in some kind of mischief and it was no different in Denmark. While I was at Aarhuus university, I went around campus with my GoPro snapping pictures. Evidently, a random asian guy walking around peering into the untouched corners of the university looked suspicious to one of the employees there. I was approached and asked what I was up to. Trying to explain that I find beautiful things in the weird little places that few seldom look always gets surprised looks, but this time suspicions were on high alert because, evidently, the day before someone dressed similarly to me was doing the same except they were hanging around taking pictures near security panels. I also found out that the university had already had 3 bomb threats, but those were all called in by students who simply didn’t wish to take their exams. People are crazy!

After long explanations, I put the employee at ease. The employee finally introduced himself as Svend Soborg and it turned out that he was the long time event coordinator for the school and founder of Klubben Aarhus, the university watering hole. He ended up offering to tour me all around the campus. Svend told me all about the party scene there and I found out that Aarhus University has the highest percentage of partiers in all of the city. Way to contribute to alcoholism! Svend, himself, was responsible for many drunken fests back in the day. It was serendipitous that I ran into him because after the tour he then invited me to lunch with his wife, Nita, and an additional tour of some of the forest and seaside regions a few days later. He also gave me a couple free passes to the ARoS museum in Aarhus. Self pats on back for looking suspicious and turning it into a life win!

– Suspicious Winning Rabbit

Here are pics from the day. More to come in the next post, along with my day with Svend and Nita.

Aarhus University

ARoS Museum

Aarhus Central

Cat And Mouse

cat and mouse

The Creative Game Of Cat And Mouse

I’m in pursuit of finishing my book, BOX. It has been a chase within a seemingly endless maze of running thought, through the inertia of writer’s block, around high expectations and the frustration against a self imposed finish line. Sometimes I wonder who’s chasing who as the process has had me running in circles. Who is the cat? Who is the mouse? And where the hell is the cheese? The idea was simple enough. Write a puzzle book for people to solve and have some fun with it. However, the scope of the book has been an insurmountable mountain of cheddar. Every peak I traverse, I look beyond and only see a dozen more stinky peak wedges to pummel through and make swiss of. Perhaps I am the mouse, after all, and the cat is the immense weight of expectation in close, hot pursuit.

It hasn’t helped that I have an OCD inclination towards perfection, but the book needs utmost attention to detail or else the whole premise falls apart. Every puzzle piece needs to be implemented with exact precision. If I fail in one piece, the whole structure falls in on itself. And I’ve created a monster of a puzzle. Sometimes I stall myself when I look forward and all I see is a 128 ft vertical wall before me with no visible means to scale it. I look to either side of me and the wall moves past both horizons ad infinitum. I want to turn back and run away for even if I scale this wall I don’t know what lays beyond it, but when I turn around all I see is my mirrored doppelgänger standing before me, hands on waste, staring fiercely back, boring a miserable hole directly into the confines of my heart. This unrepentant and ruthless slave master won’t allow me to stop until he has bled every word out of me to completion.

So I bleed. I run the race, feeling the cat’s claws taking opportune swipes at me but I take the nicks and cuts and always stay just ahead of its full grasp and every so often I’m able to turn back and give my doppelgänger a hearty Fuck You! only to watch him seethe and rage and double the efforts of his chase. I swallow the tiny fear beating in my chest and scurry and zig-zag up the wall and if I’m clever enough the unrelenting feline slips and sways until it gives up chase and can only snarl in admission of defeat. Here’s to hoping that whatever lays beyond the edge of the wall of my own BOX can keep the hunger of my hunter at bay.

– Hunted Rabbit…er…Mouse

The Little Hero Inside

New Hero Sugar ^3

We All Have A Little Hero Inside

Tastier than a bag of Splenda! More refined than a bowl of honey! Able to sweeten coffee with two lumps! It’s Sugar3! Defender of the delicious life and guardian of all things cubed.

Ok, so I have a lot of time on my hands. I introduced this little fella last week out of pure whimsy and decided he’s not a bad mascot for my book, BOX. I’m toying around with some humorous photography ideas for Sugar and I find my mind drifting on thoughts of heroism and courage.

I don’t wish to live in a world without heroes. They are normal, everyday people doing what they do best from being mothers to teachers to soldiers to everyday hard-working folk. They are the ones out there day in and day out putting themselves on the line to make sure the world we live in is a better place.  They don’t seek recognition or even the term hero bestowed upon them. They just wake up and know what they need to do without inspiration or a reason. They are the ones living with true conviction and not convenient compassion. They aren’t afraid to challenge the rules, which are really only just guidelines to them. They aren’t above their own behavior and hold themselves to the highest of standards. They do what they do without thought for award or recompense. They are confident without ego, strength governed by humility. They are willing to look into the seedy underbelly of society and deal with the consequences. They stay up late tirelessly working on the hard issues. They put others before themselves and readily sacrifice their well-being. They make no excuses when asked to jump into action. They know that without true sacrifice a greater world cannot exist. They are you and me.

We all have that little hero inside of us. It’s up to all of us to bring it out within each other. Are we up to the task of unlocking the little box of courage hiding inside us all?

Wouldn’t that be sweet? 😉

– Super Rabbit

The Mighty Sugar^3

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Meet The Mighty Sugar3

His legendary status precedes himself everywhere he goes. He is the Galactic Galactose, repeller of the monosacchreligious. He is the Maltose Falcon, able to repel the Fat Man’s giant hands with the strength of 5oo energy shots. His dextrose dexterity is only rivaled by the Immutable Insul Incan, his greatest foe.

The origins of Sugar3 are a great mystery. The mystics say he was born of the unholy union of the gods Peppy Seal and Coca Koala after they chanced upon each other in a drug induced haze during the tumultuous 60’s when love and wanton lust filled the air. The conspiracists say he is the byproduct of an experiment gone awry at the genetic splicing division of C&H Pure Cane Sugar. We can only speculate. No matter where his humble beginnings lie, he is the diminutive hero we deserve, but not the one we need right now for the evil machinations of Insul Incan have painted Sugar3 as the face of diabetic destruction, spreading vile lies up and down the land. Self-loathing local authorities track and call him the Tiny Scourge of Waistlines, but secretly they know it is their own copious intake of doughy substances and lack of willpower that they truly abhor.

Despite the dangers to himself, Sugar3, remains ever vigilant as the defender of boxes, portmanteaus and all things cubed. He has given the muted voices of all slave cartons the courage to stand tall and proud. No longer shall the cardboard culture be used by their masters for short shipments and then tossed aside without a second thought. No longer shall the lives of young coffers be cut short and ravaged by Insul Incan’s Repsychlers. A hero walks among us and though he may be miniscule, the tales of his exploits are brobdingnagian. Yes, that is a word fully endorsed by Sugar3 for he believes in the power of diction and articulation.

Stay tuned for the further adventures of Sugar3!

– Silly Rabbit, kids are for tricks.

An Oldie But A Goodie

This is an oldie post, but a goodie. I first posted this back in July, 2013 as a test of a puzzle idea in the book. I’m rehashing it today for further testing…also, because I’m really busy working on the book to formulate any coherent posts right now. Keep in mind, the puzzle is not any indication of how the book will read. In fact, most of it is nonsense stream of consciousness, but, trust me, the puzzle works. I would love any thoughts or comments on the degree of difficulty in the comments section. All I ask is that you not post the answer. However, if you think you’ve figured it out, you can privately email me at: thewrenproject@gmail.com and I’ll let you know if you got it right or not. Have fun! Oh, and don’t forget…

BOX Sign-Up Form

– Busy Rabbit

First There Was Color, Then There Were Words

colored_words_by_darkgoddess137-d32e2gd

Image by darkgoddess137 at deviantART.com

[Difficulty of this puzzle is around the vicinity of brain wracking but not that hard. As with my previous post, this is best viewed through a desktop web browser not on phone or tablet. Unfortunately, parts of the puzzle don’t show properly on certain phones and tablets. Working on solving this issue.

Again, feedback appreciated in the comments section. No spoilers or solutions please!]

Beginning with the end is sometimes the easier way to tell a story. Especially when you don’t have an inkling as to how to begin. However, endings tend to take on new dimensions the more you understand how a series of events are supposed to unfold. Only time can place all the pieces in their proper order. Lucky for me time is all I have. Dorian wishes he had my kind of time. Time, you aging bitch.

Perhaps you are wondering just what in the world I’m rambling about. Truthfully, I don’t really know. Hell, this could all be happening in my sleep. My ghostly avatar sitting here typing nonsense in some blackened out dream state while my body relaxes under the starscape drinking in the silver silence of the deep night. Entirely possible, I suppose. Have I lost you, yet? Don’t be afraid to continue onwards. Would it be that I could be there with you, holding your gaze, to see what you see. Then in turn we would have a small kiss, a warm melting moment between starcrossed lovers destined to be forever lost to each other, upside down worlds away, never knowing just across the coffee aisle sits completeness and heaven. Paramour. Valentine. Darling. Dear. Dearest.

I   nto my mouth you go. Can you see my voice in there loudly reverberating off of my vocal tunnel? It calls your name. You. You. You. Always you. Never you. I doubt you ever existed. If you did, then it was to cause me torment upon endless torments until my eyes wished to cry sand. A lonely heart in a desert of mourning voices. N   ever.

All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All All

i know…i know…i know…I know! i finally undersTand it all. so simple. So delicate. Do you know yet? Keep looking. Under every rock, around every corner, in every brook, beyond the sky, into your heart, lurking in your mind, living in your breath. It’s there! Where? Everywhere! It is the glory of us.

See. You owe me nothing, Elle. Oh dear, Tonight I err on the side of grey while you dream in rainbow patterns. How I wish I could see what you see. You do see, don’t you?

Well, when you do. Whisper me the secret…psst…psst…psst…psst…forever. Rabbits have lovely hearing.

– Colorful Rabbit