The New Misadventures of a Wayward Journalist (TNMWJ)

Things can go awry in the world. You have only an instant to catch up. There’s only time enough to keep going, and nothing else.

That’s why we have memories. To keep us there, in the place of actually being there. That’s why we have cameras, words, ways to express what we’ve seen, where we’ve been, and the things we have discovered along the way.

It doesn’t matter if you have talent. Only persistence. A keen way to put it, is that all it takes is heart. Capturing the story in one click, that excludes all pretense up to that point, is the way to the truth in any story.

In my journalistic on-goings, I will document for example, some of what I’ve found to be expressive of a particular moment in time, that can be interpreted for all. This is just practice…


Questioning the Mind of Nature: How Consciousness is Structured Within the Physical Brain


Questioning the Mind of Nature:

How Consciousness is Structured Within the Physical Brain

By David McKay

Biology Undergraduate UNT



The human mind will always be a mystery. Its inner workings will always be replete with undiscovered tinkerings and nuances that no man will ever be able to completely document in one lifetime. There is a reason for this, though. It is not supposed to be completely understood. Imagine where you would be if you knew everything there is to know about the world around you. What point would there be left to continue to keep moving, to keep searching? What would continue to drive you onward, even though you know what lie ahead, and behind, and up and down? I believe in that, in that sad moment, you would cease to exist completely. But then, where would you go? You see, it’s quite impossible to completely know everything, and I think once we, as seekers of knowledge, have realized this maxim it’s full potential, then we would be privy to not only the most profound of discoveries, but also attain the joy and inherent happiness of not knowing something completely. Because if ignorance is bliss, then knowingness must be quite the opposite. But then, upon knowing something, there is always the question of ‘why’. Why does something occur, why does something exist? If 2+2 indeed equals 4, then why is that so? This is the beginning of human thought, of our animal existence as men of nature.


To question the human mind, is to question the mind of nature, itself.


When I think of people, I think of all the people that made up those people. All those creatures that came together over the course of history that made up this singular individual did so for the sole purpose of survival. It takes exactly two separate individuals, themselves comprised of millions upon millions of combinations of two separate individuals, to create another single contained individual of their own making. It can be visualized much like the russian nesting toy that contains copies of itself inside of itself. Each one is slightly different, but necessary to complete the whole picture of the outer shell. This is not a new idea, but what is lacking in this vision is the concept that each toy nested within another is not just a single entity, but two. While it is true there is only one toy, there are two dimensions that the toy exists in. When looking at the human body, we make the mistake of assuming that there is only one physical body inhabiting space time, when in fact there are two. In biology this is called a sagittal plane perspective, whereby every biological system can be separated down the middle into two equal parts.


But what is the significance of such a division? We have two eyes, two ears, two arms and legs, even two sides of the heart. This division must have a purpose, and, more importantly, and origin. This division is one of simple physics. Two equal sides encourage a center, a balance, or homeostasis–to use a similar term–that allows for automatic function within a species; one that is a combination of its parental parts, yet separate and still growing, still evolving as it were into a new, greater species.


I am speaking of evolution. Our physical, biological bodies are of two identifiable entities, observed: One male part, one female part–a species’ mother and father. But I am also speaking of consciousness evolution. This posits that each side of the brain as a whole contains within it the ancestors of the mother and the father, expressed in the current individual. The left side, usually viewed as the female side, houses it’s own female and male parts, and the right side, for the father, contains male and female aspects, i.e. the current individual’s grandparents, great grandparents, and so forth, laddering back through time within the certain species. This process occurs to a point where the first two organisms to cross would have procreated on planet Earth for the first time. Basically, what we have here is the evolution of man’s consciousness housed within two mindframes occurring in left and right quadrants of the brain. That each two are separate entities, such as your mother and father were before they converged into one–yourself–and each are quite still independent of each other under one skull, yet still are able to communicate with each other in a biological and conscious manner using ‘bridges’ or ‘gaps’ brought on by physical structures like the corpus callosum and other features of the brain that converge into points of singularity (i.e. the pineal and pituitary gland).


What I have described was first recorded as a theory by Wigans, a behavioral scientist in the early 20th century. Autopsies presupposed Wigans to conclude that each side of the human brain was completely independent and capable of ‘living’ without the other side, able to perform all functions as it were, without the input of each of the other sides of the brain. This dissociation theory was further explored in split brain patients in the early 21st century when scientists were trying to understand the dual nature of split brain patients who had had their corpus callosum cut in order to prevent grand mal seizures.


It is quite clear that the human body is of a symmetrical order, only rarely crossing over into the ‘other’s’ territory, so to speak. And this crossing over is done via small detours as seen in nerve endings and their affiliated ganglions.


What significance does the theory that each half of the brain houses two separate communicating entities–mother/father–? This theory indicates that you are not just one person, but millions upon millions of other human beings in one body; that not only did your body evolve over millions of years to acclimate to the current conditions at the time, but that so did your consciousness along with it. That buried deep down in the so called ‘reptilian mind’ is in fact a living entity of that mind.


This dual natured mind/body combination has profound implication. That each entity is in itself still apparent in time and space, containing in itself all it’s previous memories, causations, and contributions on a consciousness, or in this case, a subconscious level, and that these reptilian and proto human minds are able to be ‘reckoned’ with at will by the observer, or the most recent form of the consciousness as it were in present time. These are what we call hidden memories, deluges from the past; in buddhist terms, previous lives, of which we are the reincarnates of the same particular past entity in present form, whether we have two arms, or two tentacles.


Imagine each side of the individual’s consciousness like a ladder. A DNA ladder. Where each structure of the piece, the containing sugar/phosphate sides represent a female/male construct. Then the rungs in between are actually the connecting pieces, where these two separate entities are in communication. Genetic coding indicates that our genes are in constant flux, breaking apart.


Let me reiterate that each half of the human brain is in constant communication with each other. Why would this be so? It is a proven fact that information is shared between the two hemispheres, but why would this be necessary? Why don’t we just have one continuous blob of a brain without separation between the two halves? This is because of the dual nature of nature, itself. It takes two to make one.


What my theory suggests is that our consciousness as well as our physical brain has evolved from our previous ancestors, that each half exists independently now, as it did back in time, and that each half is able to communicate with a certain ‘lower’ part of each half at will. This includes communication down the same line as one of the structures themselves, to a previous ancestor, and concurrently, across the gap of the corpus callosum, to communicate with the ‘unrelated’ ancestral species of a different time.


Drawing in laymen’s terms, away from what it already appears to be, your mom side could in fact communicate with her great great great father in law within one brain!


And, not stopping there, if evolution is correct, then it is possible that each side of the human mind is able to foresee and appropriately construct a working model of the future, yet to occur, by cross gap (neurological) communication. That basically, each side of the human brain allows a certain ‘leadership’ at given times to occur to accomplish tasks benefited to sustaining physical and mental evolution as seen by using those models of future events (ESP)*.


In conclusion, the mind is a complex combination of millions of minds come together as one, or two under one skull, and each part is a living, thinking, organism that depends on the whole structure to provide more input to keep operating, and to keep evolving. That most of all modern mental deficiencies stem from imbalances between these two hemispheres, and that the dual nature of the human mind is expressed as one continuously growing, moving, and evolving species whose only purpose is to find a ‘matching’ partner, to complete him or herself and make ‘two’ in nature for the purpose of creating yet another single individual for further replication, i.e. reincarnation.




Bayne, T. 2008. The Unity of Consciousness and the Split-Brain Syndrome, The Journal of Philosophy, 105(6), 277-300.  


* Next paper will deal primarily with ESP as a byproduct of human consciousness evolution


Oro and Azra and the Comet Hunters: Chapter 3 A New Beginning


A New Beginning

the wind of april blew in and froze everything. in this part of the world, everything was  backwards. summertime is winter, and well…you get it. but the only thing that stayed the same, was, unfortunately, school.

by the time the last day of school had come, and azra sat shivering behind her desk waiting to take the astrology final, winter was making its name well known on everybody’s lips.

azra’s teeth chattered. her trembling hand reached for a pen. why don’t they turn on the heaters?

the teacher came in and waved his hand. “cut the chit chat. we gotta pass this to get out of here, and go home, and get warm.”

He drew the blinds and turned on the overhead projector. Tiny lights of the solar system clouded the room. one by one they zoomed into view and several tiny planets and stars were replaced by numbers in the night sky.

“okay, you know the drill. put on your starmappers, locate and label the corresponding planets that were visible in the nineteenth century England, during the reign of Ivan the Great. Make as many corrections as you want, but remember, you have a time limit. Preferably by the end of this year, before we turn into ice pops.”

everyone in class reached under their desks and pulled out weird looking glasses. azra found her pair and plopped them on her nose. they were at least three sizes too big and slid down her nose.

Hey! Pist!

Azra turned around. It was Tu. She threw a wad of paper at Azra, and she caught it and unwrapped it. Inside was a list of planets and suns. Tu had done her homework.

Azra turned back and winked at Tu. Thanks.

“Don’t mention it…” Then Tu looked like she was going to throw up suddenly.


“turn around Miss Azra. I saw that crafty transaction. hand it over, said mr. Thomas. He had his hand out and was clawing the air like a dying spider.

azra smoldered with embarrassment as she handed over the cheat sheet.

“Ah, amazing work…miss Tu Charrad. You get a zero for the course standings, but don’t worry, it won’t hurt that much, but you, azra…I don’t think you can take another hit. do you understand?

Y-yes. I-

cheating sucks, understand. don’t do it. You get an automatic grade reduction to sixty nine. You must be able to answer enough questions right to bring it up to a passing grade, to pass the test, pass the course, and…pass the eighth grade.

azra melted in her desk.

Mr. thomas smiled. “but don’t worry, if you are anything like your mother was, you shouldn’t have that much of a problem.”

that’s the thing, thought azra. i’m nothing like she was. I don’t even know the planets in our system, much less the entire milky way!

Azra felt miserable as the room darkened again and the stars and planets slowly rotated on the ceiling. she didn’t know anything about Gamma 121 or Asteroid belt 86, how could she name which ones were visible during some distant mysterious past during the reign of some crummy and probably loony king?

azra put her forehead on her desk top. She went to sleep.

she woke up at the last bell of the day.

“okay upload your work and have a warm summer. and you…azra, will you see me for a minute?”

azra moped over to mr. thomas. she plopped down in the chair in front of his desk and stared at a half eaten apple. mr. thomas was chewing on the end of his pen. he sighed.

“Azra, i know it’s tough out there. You are alone. and…living under the strain of being the only kid of the world’s’ most famous space pioneer can’t be easy. am i right?”

did mr. thomas double for a shrink on the weekends? thought azra. she sighed heavily and avoided his stare.


“No, i’m not right? or not getting answer.”

azra didn’t say anything.

“both, i see. well, don’t say i didn’t warn you about the grade. Azra you have to take summer class to pass this year with me. I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to fall behind. you do understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, mr. thomas.”

“okay, good. i’m sending home a short letter explaining the situation. your dad will understand, i’m sure. so please don’t take this personally. It’s not even a bad thing, if you think about it. It’s more…like a test. You know?”

azra just nodded as little as possible.

“you know,’ said mr. thomas. “i bet, if you just opened up a little, you would be my very best student in the class. I bet you.”

azra picked up her backpack, and slumped to the door. she turned around for a second. “thanks, mr. thomas. I’m sorry though…I’m just not like she was.”

and she wasn’t was she? she’d never seen her mother before, at least she had no memories of her. she had photos, old ones, but they were just pictures of a woman in her mid twenties with sharp and eager eyes, not like azra’s, whose were more rounded and sad like her dad’s.

azra knew that her mother was smart. smarter than any scientist to ever live, at least that’s what they always said, and that she was braver than most as well. who else in their right mind, after finding a dangerous toxic comet would go out in a spaceship in the dead of space to find more? it just didn’t make sense to azra. how could someone so smart do something so stupid?

if she let herself, and didn’t watch it, she could downright hate that woman.

azra looked at her shoes the whole way home.

later that day, azra learned that a visitor was coming to stay the summer break with her and her dad.

a boy about the size and shape and the same intelligence of an ape burst through the door of the small house and bounded into the living room.

“Hey AZzzy!” he yelled with stupendous loudness. “I’m here!”

it was Nori. azra’s older cousin.

he grunted when no one came to greet him.

“what’s going on here?” he roamed from room to room, concern growing on his face. he scratched his curly red head.


there was a note on the countertop.

Nori read with great concentration the handwritten scrawl on the page. went skating? he said and shoved his gigantic hands into his pockets.

I need some space. love, Azra…

Azra was sitting on the football bleachers when she noticed the familiar shape of her cousins hunched over form walking across the field.

she watched him lurch up the tall stands and not once he even looked up.

when he reached her row, he sat down heavily in the stadium seating.

“Hey, he grunted.

“Hey. said Azra.

I see you’re still riding? and new tricks?”

“nope. just some old ones…but i did learn a kickflip a few days ago.”

“Cool. wanna show me?”


Once in the parking lot, Azra pushed away on the board with nori watching. she punched the back of the skateboard with her back foot and yanked up the board with her front foot and the board and kicked out. the board twirled in the air and azra landed back on the top.

“hey! not bad! Got anything else?”

“No. just a busted wrist from doing that so much.”

“Ha ha, want to get some food?”


‘tacos hut?”

they both laughed and walked away together through the vacant lot to the hangout spot for loners and drifters who hadn’t much to say about anything, because sometimes silence is the best appetizer.


Oro and Azra and The Comet Hunters: A Teen Sci/Fi Novel


One day, a scientist from Earth disappeared into space. She had just gone further than anyone had been. She was there, then…she wasn’t. Her headphones went out and then the picture went static. She screamed…

Abigail Mully was chasing comets. Well, she was chasing where the first one had come from. It had crashed into earth, and she had been chosen to go investigate the cosmos in search for more the cosmos was a dangerous place back then. radioactivity would fry you in a heartbeat. if you didn’t have enough food and water and plants, you would shrivel up in the zero gs pretty fast.

well, they mastered all that. but even with all the planning, their worst fears were realized on october 19th of 3014, when she didn’t return the transmission sent from mission control.

and that was it. they closed down mission control. and everyone went home. The end.

but there was a few that stayed and kept on eye on the sky.

His name was boro mully. over the thirteen years he kept the telescope on. always on. his new mission was finding his wife, listening with all his might at the certain spot in the sky where she’d disappeared.


Boro turned off the telescope and computer and closed the door to go.home. it was cold outside, but he didn’t mind, he had a beard, and a potbelly gut. he was fat enough to go naked if he wanted. Boro laughed to himself and cranked up the truck.

At home, a girl was waiting beside the fireplace. she was asleep. A blanket lied over her and the pig lying in her lap.

This girl was dreaming she was flying over a cliff, running from some huge ants. She kicked out and jumped over the edge, and when she saw the ground rise up in front of her she bolted awake and screamed.

The pet pig flew from her lap and almost landed in the fireplace. the pig grunted angrily and tritted away his pink butt in the air.

Sorry, Bullo. yawned azra. What a weird dream.

god, how long is dad going to be at the observatory! she got up and looked out the window. it was dark outside. near midnight. he would be here in about twenty minutes.

the observatory was on a mountain top. below was forest, black and rangy. and lakes spotted the surrounding country. a regular paradise where it never sun shined and rained all the time.

why the hell they had decided to move to this depressing part of the united states of Merica was a divine question. azra didn’t have any answers as she popped some popcorn into her mouth.

There was a knock on the door and Azra got up to answer it. a man in a purple turtleneck sweater, thin rimmed glasses, and a shiny wet face stood in the doorway.

“yes? said azra through the screen door. can i help you sir?

maybe. the man said. my name is scrio gorman. i know your father and i have some very important news for him.

he’s on his way back from the observatory, said azra looking at the man’s sweating face–it looked like he’d swam here.

i know. i know. i have some amazing news for him…do you mind if i stay until he gets here.

sure. said azra after a couple of seconds. she opened the door and the man immediately started looking around  the for something. she lead him through the foyer and into the living. room. he could not sit still it seemed, but kept turning his head this way and that, scanning everything with intense interest.

Do you live her with him, do you?

what a strange question. of course she did.

you want some water or something? Azra offered.

the man nodded. please.

when she came back he was standing in front of the fire

he had been looking  at the pictures on the mantel.  he smiled vivaciously and pointed at one of them.

this one. he said. this is your mother…I knew her very well. brilliant mind. and….stubborn.

Azra set the water down and stared hard at the man.

what do you want? she said. she was beginning to get nervous. this guy, claiming to know her dad and then, saying he knew her mother.

oh, I don’t want anything. smiled the man and then he sat down in the chair. thank you for the water.

Boro Mully came into the living room and stopped dead. his boots hit the floor when he saw the man in the turtle neck.

boro mully.

scrio. what are you doing in my house.

your very lovely daughter invited me in.  don’t worry i am here just as an informant. i have news that you might find  interesting.

like what?

Like, we have found a second comet. coming to earth. Right now it flies faster and further than the first. It is the size of texas and will be here within the week. We wanted to invite you to the facility to lend us your knowledge on tracking its descent.

boro stood motionless. the fire licked the room.

Another comet is coming to Earth, and you want me to work for you. after all that you pulled after abby disappeared, all that you did when all you wanted was that damned stone.

that…waved scrio…is in the past. i do not seek what never existed.

that’s bologna. you sent your goons after me! chasing me to this godforsaken piece of the earth! now you expect me to come work for you? how dare you–!

boro! do not get angry. i am here as a messenger…only. the real person you should talk to about making all that money, and getting your space observatory up and running is here, only a phone call away.

scrio placed the card on the table and got up and finished his water.

wonderful water, my dear he said savouring the last drops like a camel.

azra recoiled.

boro stood beside azra and put his hand on her shoulder.

Thanks, Scrio, but we don’t want your help. we have everything we need and ever will. Now get out of here and out of our lives and if we ever see you again, there will be more than words that pass between us.

scrio left without another word. His trail of silence was more than screaming though. Slowly, he walked down the door steps and stepped out into the night. But Azra noticed he hadn’t driven here…had he?

Just then, lights came from the air. They landed on the ground in front of scrio and he stood in the doorway and glared back at the house with a look of complete, unhinged insanity. He flashed la serial killer smile at Azra, and then the car lifted him up into the night and disappeared into the darkness.

who was he dad?

he looked on into the sky

a madman.

since azra was only thirteen she couldn’t drive but that didn’t stop her from having fun. her favourite thing to do was skateboard. a testament to how boring life can be if you don’t watch it.

she pushed and rode the board goofy stile across the asphalt of the skatepark. a ramp came up and she went up the curved surface without a hitch. she twisted the board around and came back down the opposite way and bent low to grab the board’s nose.

hey cool trick! yelled a boy with yellow hair. but get your back leg off a little and you can go fagster.

faster! not fagster!

it’s a new trick, give me a break!

yeah whatever!

Azra ollied the board over a trash bin and landed with a clack  in front of the yellow haired boy.

Not bad for a little girl. he said laughingly. i don’t care what you have down there personally. skill is skill.

azra smiled and took out a cigarette and they both smoke d it before school started.

it was one of those days where the clock went slower every time you looked at i. t.  Azra had her head down on the desk and she was asleep. she  was dreaming of a complex e science equation coming to eat her. the infinity sign had just turned into a set of razor sharp teeth when she was shaken awake by mr. larkin, the second period physics teacher.

Azra mully, just because you think you know everything there is to know about algebraic equations of the 21st century doesn’t mean that this is siesta time for you. open your book and and turn to page eighty. okay. right. the mean difference of the variable multiplied by itself is equal to the blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah….azra had dozed off again. physics was not her best subject, no matter who’s famous dna ran through her blood.

by lunch time the illusion was shattered. she was going not going to pass the eighth grade without immediate surgery. she looked at her student progress report and signed. her best best was to tap her nearest nerd source.

Azra put her tray down on a table full of darked haired people. most wore glasses. they couldn’t seem  to figure out why such a hick of a girl would come over to their table. they knew good and well the complex social dynamics of intraclass systems at Parader’s High School.

I need help. said azra.

why didn’t’ you say so. mumbled a girl about fifteen. she had long black hair and a  smile on her face.

there was a slight rude cough from the girls next to Tu, azra’s friend. Tu turned and said something in indian. and they shut up directly. tu was de facto leader of the science club, uil physics intermediary club, and had free range over the nerds of the school, because she had just been accepted into college at fifteen.

Azra nodded her head. impressive, she said. i need you to take my  astro final for me.

Why don’t you just study up? you can do it aZra, i have faith in you.

Don’t start, Tu. remember last year, I helped you with all your english. you owe me one sister.

Tu wiggled her head and then looked at the others.

Okay, i’ll take the damned test. but you have to do something  for me too.

What’s that?


Tu handed her a  crumpled up ball of paper. on the  inside was a flyer. it said.

Saberpad races will be held where the river flows into the snakes mouth. the fifteenth of this month.

Password is germanium.

Bring a friend…

Never Forget

Thunder cracked over the school top. A heavy downpour began and then the students ran everywhere they went, cause the rain would leak down in between cracks in the ceiling and the janitor was always mopping and cussing and yelling at the students to slow down.

After school, Instead of going home, azra headed up to the observatory down Mountain Road. She would meet her dad up there and they would search the stars and she would do her homework until they shut everything down and went home.

Azra hopped off the metro bus and walked the rest of the way up the road, which was covered in giant sycamore trees, drooping vines and scattered and brambled underbrush. this was the way.

her shoes crunched over the dry rock of the driveway, went up the front steps of the main building, and turned down a passageway that led to the main observatory room at the south end of the observatory.

when she pushed open the door of the observatory room she knew that something was wrong. at least, different. Her dad was surrounded by a bunch of people in suits and ties. they turned around and her dad came over to her.

“This is my daughter, Azra. Azra, these gentlemen are from the Legionary of Science and Mathematics. They are here because….”he looked around at them, “because we think we have found something…” he looked pale in the face. “We think we’ve found your mother’s ship.”

This floored Azra. She stood there, her backpack around her shoulder. She could have fainted and it would have been the same as standing here. Her freckled face shone in the dim lights of the computers and she swallowed hard.

“My mom is coming back.”

a man with a turquoise suit came over.. “Well, it appears to be a ship and it’s coming from the same place she disappeared. We aren’t’ sure yet, but it we figure the ship has found its return path and kicked itself in high gear to get back here. Its travelling incredibly fast.”

Wait. thought azra. didn’t the strange man named Scrio say that a comet was coming earth too. and from the same spot. that didn’t make any sense. and azra threw her dad a glance that said as much. he seemed to pick up on it though and turned to the men.

we need time to digest this. i’ll call you if i pick up on anything through our telescope. thank you gentlemen.

when the men left, boro sat down in front of Azra and gently placed a hand on her head.

you are my love, azra. i know it’s been tough. not having a mother. not even having a grave to visit, knowing she is lost. but i want to say that i think you are as brilliant and as special as she was.

um,…thanks dad. but what’s going on? what about that man scrio and the…the comet?

boro nodded his head.

I think that those men and scrio is wrong about what they’ve found coming in from space. i don’t think it’s a comet, nor do i think it is your mother’s ship, i am afraid.

Boro stood up and hit a button on the computer keyboard. a giant map came up on the wall. a star map. it showed the entire universe. boro zoomed in on a section of a tiny spiral  and the milky way zoomed up. he tapped on a spiral arm and the map pulled in a dusty patch of space. There, blinking in soft light, was a tiny dot. it was moving along a long curved line through space. Boro touched the screen and the star map followed the line. when it reached a small cluster of planets the map came to a stand still.

the long curve line had ended here. right at a small bright circle. boro tapped on the bright circle that represented a planet.

Earth was written above the planet.

It is coming straight for us, said boro. but if you look, he went back following the line through space away from earth, the supposed comet has to go straight through jupiter on the path, plus, he went back even further, to the tip of the milky way, “this comet had to dodge all kinds of stuff to make here, alive. no comet i know of can do that. not any one that is not alive, that is.

alive? said azra

yes, i don’t think it is a comet. you see, i have been tracking this thing for a while now. and it has made it past all of this. an unbelievable straight shot. and now, now it is right outside of our solar system.

azra wasn’t sure what to say. this wasn’t the kind of thing she ever expected to find after all the years of helping her dad out at the observatory. she never expected anything. it was just like a game to her, never real. but this…

dad, if it’s not a comet, and not mom, what is it?

boro didn’t say anything. he studied the wall map lost in great thought. when he spoke it sounded like a tomb inside the room.

why don’t we ask it?

They set up the computer to run an xray diagram into space. kind of like sending out a bunch of ones and zeros at light’s speed into the air. They pointed the big laser beam at the thing coming in from space and listened. after a long while nothing came back. only the air between them.

The limit of radio frequency had run out. it could not reach that far and the computer started to make a fuzzy funny sound indicating it had stretched out it’s antenna as far as the programmers had even dreamed it could reach, maybe even farther this time. The equipment in the observatory sitting in an inch of dust that couldn’t be removed…was just too old.

Boro sadly turned off the computer, but then he stopped, as if he thought of something else, then he left the power switch on as he and azra stepped back from the data screen.

what did you ask it, dad, said azra as they turned off the lights to go home.

boro sighed and kind of laughed sillly. “well, i just thought i’d say hello. you never know, if it is alive, it might speak a little english. it is the universal language here on earth.
azra glanced back at the computer and giant star map glowing in the dark of the room. Yeah, maybe…and maybe it doesn’t know how to speak at all.

New Chapter Next Week: A New Beginning 


Diary of a Shit Taker: Part I

Part I

The word ‘Shit Mongrel’ is being tossed around too much these days. You see the word scrawled out on bathroom walls, behind the stall door, the word ‘shit’ in all caps, ‘mongrel’ written underneath it, dangling like a piece of crap to the word, ‘shit’.

It’s a complex statement. Usually you find the word by accident, hiding near the tail end of a positive piece of poetry, faded over time by repeated efforts to scrub it from history, as if only arcane phone numbers leading to God knows who’s mailbox are allowed to exist.

And then there are the numbers themselves, hastily written digits with a lone name attached to it:

“Call 555-5555 for a blow job. Ask for Robbie.”

As I squeeze out the first signs of a massive shit to come, I realize poor Robbie probably doesn’t want a dick anywhere near his mouth. This is what ‘friends’ do for you in their free time.

I suddenly find the word I’ve been looking for. There it is, halfway hidden, written in the chipped grout work enamel like a convict’s last testament to his poor, pitiful existence–SHIT MONGREL.

I inhale and hold my breath and push as hard as I dare, my anus feeling like it might rupture with the slightest miscalculation of pressure. I feel the heavy solid of my waste shift in my lower intestine, and I hunker back down to wait it out to move further down the tract. Too much effort and my anus will be too raw to finish the job.

Many folk like me have sat in this exact spot, pondering the universe in all its glorious glory. The last stall. The door doesn’t close all the way and opens up on its own at random times, letting you scramble to reclose it, holding your pants up, keeping your ass cheeks cocked just so, so the shit covering your ass crack won’t drip down on your shoes.

Finally, you jerry rig the bastard with whatever you can find, hoping that it’s a quick fix and the people coming in won’t come around the corner. Fuck ‘em if they do.

The word ‘Shit Mongrel’ flashes through my mind as I finish up. I’ll have to shit again soon and God knows where it will be, but there the word will be again regardless, the same messy writing from a crack-addicted hand, the same nonchalant  effort to hide it in a special spot that you only notice when you’re looking for something else.

I imagine the person who first came up with the idea, how bored he must have been, how he must have felt really lucky to have had a pen on him at that point in time.

‘Shit Mongrel’ must have come to him as easily as the runs as he just opened his ass cheeks up and let the water and shit blast from his anus, the pen sketching those first loops on the concrete wall.

I flush for the final time and pull up my pants and stand staring down at my shoes.

There is shit on them.

Now I know what the word meant.

It means you cannot escape the act of shitting, no matter how civilized you think you are. You will always be reduced back down to squatting over some hole, relieving yourself accordingly, covering yourself in it, becoming–the Shit Mongrel.

Part II next Week





In the far future, men will look back and believe in nothing. They will look at these times and regress, then go out for tea. They’ll take helicopter rides to the prom. They’ll look over each other’s shoulders like they care, like they can. They’ll be lost in their rides, and they’ll take the tree tops over to the south. Brazen winds. Oh, robotic glares. History on repeat. Odiferous orifice.


I miss the ways we used to laugh just when it got funny. The miles between us. What of this place? This Earth? I can see it heaving. See the growth of many. Walking on the skins.


Elliptic rollercoaster with black jacket. A smell, a darkness a cold wind. That closeness. Skins will be the same. Smiles will be always be a result of becoming alive. And the music plays…on.


The bass thuds. The keys soar like a desert wind twisting under stars. Racing under and across sands of time. The tap of the high hat, the heart tugging inwards. No ending in sight.


What of the future? What of men and women in it? What of the lands that we walk on with our hairs and long dresses in the sun? I cry everytime I think of it. How I know. Heads in hands. Wills of the same. Let the sun play. Play grounds. Tracing. Behaving. Becoming. Those small hands again.


“I can stand on my own.”


“You fell.”


“I know. It’s okay. I like it.”


That day I knew the difference. It was like when life speaks only when you think it hasn’t. That breath of long silence. Oh, well. I was only sixteen.


Honestly, girl, who are you? What are doing out here, trying to prove yourself. Well you’re not. Just go home.


No. I won’t.


You might regret it.


You make me.


I can’t. That’s up to you.


Winds. Silences. Cars. Taking on the night. Hand slips to hide. Touching. Minds racing. Even tempers warning like little lights. Pedals holding under soles.


A child writing of a time in the future. Wanting to hold on to some distant memory of a time yet to come. Grasping out. Like a vein. Reaching for the hardest surface of appeal. Maybe in time. Cracks. Grooves. Even tempers.


You can’t meet my dad…he’s…not here.


Strong arm under black leather takes the hand gently. Pale fingers, like porcelain. Eyes like winter in the rain.


Me too.


Pull off of the rain. Driving the night. Continue. Free lance emotion. Stemming the aircraft arm.


Last October I held you. That lost train.


Why are you? There is this place I run from and to. It is my mind. My life I do not know. Baseball bats in broken windows. A scream of violence drowned out by unspoken force and left in the room. Don’t go back.


I see.


It was me. But not know though.


How can I break you? My lamenting for a child girl left by Monday morning. I left you like a force of gravity separating lives and it hurts. A pull like oceans. And you are someone different after. But only for so long…


Can. Because I can, I do. See you. Someday.




In soft rains, only under thunder. I mean it.


The Summer of Revelations

A word to wise: there is nothing that exists today that is not worth remembering tomorrow. As summer passes us by, the days getting longer, and the breezes and rains coming and going, we stand sometimes alone at the edge of field somewhere, and try to take in the now of things. We try to capture the last remaining light of a fading summer day, and tuck it into who we are, who we were, and what we may become on some fine summer day yet to come.

I have a feeling that we are not alone. That over the course of time, there have been others like us, bound to a solid ground, that see themselves alone and alive as one in the universe. I think of them fondly, and often. And I wonder where they are now. How many lives stare back into the great unknown passing over a thousand eyes in the dusk, who remember.