lovelogic (a fragment to remain fragmented)

(Originally posted elsewhere/when.)

“You set my heart afire.”

“Then piss upon your heart. I cannot spare the water.”

“First let me drink you in.”

“Have at me, Socrates.”

“Socrates is a cat.”

Published in: on September 30, 2007 at 11:21 am  Leave a Comment  

chemical whispers

Published in: on September 30, 2007 at 10:57 am  Leave a Comment  

chemical whistles

Published in: on September 30, 2007 at 10:17 am  Leave a Comment  

Oddvincent’s WordPress Pressed Word of the Day:


Definition and etymology: Oh just figure it out for Christ’s sake.

Published in: on September 29, 2007 at 2:01 pm  Leave a Comment  

My Love

(Originally posted elsewhere/when.)

“What part of ‘I love you’ don’t you understand?”

“The ‘I’, the ‘love’ and the ‘you’, for starters. However, I love you anyway.”

“You said you were incapable of love. I’m sure you promised not to do it.”

“I know, but you know how that goes. A person of my age and state and temperament dips his heart in chocolate and sticks it in the freezer without so much as a plastic wrap.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“I’m simply saying that the eternal flowering springtime gives way to the persistent fear of offensive odors come June.”

“I shower often in June.”

“As do I. Yet there lingers the memory of stale bologna, which is another reason why I love you.”

“You love me for my luncheon meats. You are full of pickle loaf and head cheese. I have heard that you never clip your toenails.”

“This is irrelevant as our toes will never touch, nor shall I ever mount thy smorgasbord.”

“Very well, then, I promise to be equally incapable of loving you and also never to do so until such time as it is not possible nor humid.”

“Nor shall roses be candy-coated, nor anything shaped so as to mock internal organs.”

“I love you.”

“Me neither.”

“Is that really the best you can do?’

“I’m afraid that it probably is.”

“Maybe we could try replacing the word, ‘love’, with ‘parsley’. A little parsley never hurt anybody.”


“But seriously… This is the best you can do?”

Published in: on September 28, 2007 at 1:49 pm  Leave a Comment  

Sunny Farm Tropical Fruit Cocktail

Man, bananas do not want to be canned in syrup. Not even “light” syrup. They just don’t. They want to be eaten fresh or dried into chips or put into puddings, cakes or ice cream.

The banana does not cocktail well.

Published in: on September 28, 2007 at 1:30 pm  Leave a Comment  

Dear Missing Maddie Fans,

(This brief, unsatisfying entry was prompted by this story.)

She’s dead. Her parents killed her. Give it up. Also, please stop converting tragedy into celebrity. It makes my stomach hurt.

Thank you for your time.


Vincent Edward Francis Xavier Equatorial Guinea Hercules-Jeanine Sincerity Oddvincent

Published in: on September 26, 2007 at 10:20 pm  Leave a Comment  



originally posted elsewhere/when


So then, one is compelled to consider one’s own history. It is true that I revel in perversion. Listen, there was a time when I could make the joyful noise with the best of them. My voice rivalled those celestial voices, rivalled the voices of those celestial creatures who must, just for a moment please, just this once, go unnamed. Nothing happened to change this, yet it changed. Even now it changes. I am not immutable. I have come to believe the same is true of the One on High. Again, the name absent. Absent names. Absent words. But all words belong either to me or the One on High. All words are ever present as are names.


I am told that my friendship is difficult to bear. I do not blame those who tell me so. I am a thief and a liar and a violator of sacred bonds. My blood is toxic as is my breath. My genitalia are thorned. My penis speaks a demon tongue. My hair and whiskers are akin to the needles of the prickly pear. I dance with my hunting spear and hunt with my ceremonial spear. The wild boar I often slay hang about my house rotting. I have befriended the gnats and flies. The gnats and flies tell me that my friendship is not to be born. A shaman told my mother not to give birth to me. The shaman was my father. The labor was long and painful. I devoured my twin sister in order to expedite my entry into the world and this is what I find.

It is sometimes called a blinding pain. If only that were accurate. If only the pain did deliver the oblivion at which it insistently hints. But why must I dwell on my pain? Really, I should allow the Angel of Tiny Delights to enter here and find my solace in those small pleasures that have often solaced me. Why should I feel ridiculous when partaking of small pleasures? Why, for that matter, should there be any shame in being ridiculous? It is a uniquely human state. Humans are the finest of creatures as well as the most vile. So, I am ridiculous. So, I may be ridiculed. Small pleasures, insignificant little joys… How else to confront the unfathomable horror and beauty of the world? Some may think to conquer the world, its beauties and horrors, by confronting it toe-to-toe, by puffing up and growing as large as the world itself. I am not made to do this. I am made for the small gesture, the passing phrase, the tiny delight.

The front moves in. My ears are cold. My ears are so large, that when I am outside in the light and life of day, they act as solar panels act to absorb the energy of the sun, thence dispensing heat and power to the rest of my large, unwieldy body. My ears are so remarkably large, that Apollo’s chariot was once caught betwixt them. This occurred on one of the numerous occasions when my ears became overly ambitious in their heliotropic ascent. To this day, the hoof-marks remain on my face. I no longer make a habit of going out into the light and life of day. When I do go out into the light and life of day, I wear me a watch cap to rein in mine ears and prevent any further offense to the great god, Apollo.

Published in: on September 25, 2007 at 1:31 pm  Leave a Comment  

big(ish) love

I’ve always thought it was rather Unamerican of the US to force the Mormons into banning polygamy. I know polygamy is often used as a tool of repression against women, but so is monogamy. I think people should be allowed to have multiple wives, multiple husbands (polyandry), what have you, if that’s what all the (consenting adult) parties involved believe is best for them. I’m not even saying the state has to sanction such marriages, just maybe leave people alone if they choose to live in such a way and somehow sanctify these unions themselves. Mind you, I’m somewhat anti-marriage in general, somewhat anti-religion, but this is Amurrika after all. Are we free or aren’t we?

And yes, I’m hooked on another goddamned HBO series.

Published in: on September 24, 2007 at 9:45 pm  Leave a Comment  


I need to write something long and thoughtful about how the internet changed my life. It seems like a quite a story to me. Strange. Sad. Beautiful. You, it would probably bore.

 I’m spending too much time thinking of someone who no longer thinks of me. I’m spending too much time browsing and nosing about in other peoples’ lives. I’m beating myself up too much and falling in and out of love repeatedly and wasting my brain and laying waste to my brain and wishing and wishing and wishing.

 Not much of a post, but it’ll have to do for now.

 My heart is chaos.

Chaos, pandemonium, hell. Well, not necessarily hell.

Published in: on September 23, 2007 at 7:17 pm  Leave a Comment  
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