The hat man

This morning I went to the club to work out, and by club I mean street. I was there, working out, and by working out I mean showing off my new coat. I saw a man with the most ridiculous hat. The hat was made of fur, but it was shaped like a giant tooth. A molar. I asked him where he bought it. He proceeded to tell me he was a hatter of sorts and actually made and sold similar hats.

"Take me to your hat store!" I demanded. He got up, grabbed a length of string, and told me to hold the end. He then walked away with the other end until he was about fifteen feet away. With a gesture of his finger I understood I was to follow him, at this distance, whilst holding the end of this string. I did just that. Imagine that! See if you can picture me, in the club, being led along by a man wearing a furry tooth for a hat! In the middle of a workout no less! At the end of a string! What a curious experience!

Max Factor

In my travels around this great city I have noticed that most women have no idea how to dress themselves or paint their face in a way that would attract me to them. I've put together a few tips on how to look the most beautiful. Take heed:

1) Eyebrows are out, shave them off.

2) If you have a mole, dab it with some red lipstick, a pimple or a sore is much more attractive.

3) Teeth are really in right now, show them off, get them as white as possible and buy something large to gnaw on. Salt Blocks work great for this, but put some tang powder on it first, otherwise the salt is overpowering.

This is obviously not a comprehensive list. If you can remember anything, remember these, and you might have a chance.

Just pay attention to my plan please.

I was thinking about how much I love white doves today. The doves they always release at weddings and when peace treaties are signed. The only thing they need is a jetstream, a jetstream all the colors of the rainbow. Whenever anything violent breaks out just release the doves, and everyone will look and see. They'll realize that doves rhymes with loves.

I realize this will never happen, so I have a plan. What I plan to do is wear a pair of white gloves with writing on each of the palms. on the right palm it will say "doves" and on the left glove it will say "loves". When I put up my hands palms out, people will read "doves loves". This will forever force the people who see them to associate doves with loves. Additionally, they'll associate gloves with loves and doves. I'll be the guy who started the global "doves loves gloves" movement. I know there won't be a rainbow jetstream, but I think this is a good start, we'll get there.

Outward Dreaming

Sometimes, at night, I like to look out my window towards the heavens. I pretend I'm a deep space explorer venturing into parts never before seen by human eye. I imagine there are planets with life out there. I imagine it is my duty to observe and document their activities. I watch them when they think nobody is looking. They are unaffected by my observations, their environment stays intact. They shower and get ready for bed, I write it all down, times and places. I take pictures and send them back to earth. My fellow humans won't believe what I see, this is the evidence they need, I keep my own copies to prove to myself it wasn't a dream. My blinds snap back into place as I remove my fingers and retire for the night.

We are dalmations

When I stand in the snow all I can think about is how black we all look next to something so white. When I ride in a crowded subway train I feel the same way. My soul is black and yours are all white, with some black spots. My biggest fear is that somebody will perceive this and single me out.

I saw a documentary on TV about a "soul-seeker", he lives in Uganda luckily. Whenever this man finds a person with a black soul he kills them and feeds them to children in the form of a sweet soup. The reason he feeds black souls to children is to pollute their innocence. There is no malice in this. All of us have a little black in our souls, otherwise we would fall victim to cancer or fraud.

In the US we get our doses of evil injected into our souls by means other than cannibalism. Sometimes it comes in the form of children's vitamins, sometimes I just spray a fine mist of it into people's faces as I walk around the city.

The Origin of Johnn

As you are well aware, I spell my last name Johnn rather than John. It wasn't always this way, I had my name legally changed some years back. It has always bothered me that people always assume they know how to spell my name. They used to always get it right, now they always get it wrong. This gives me the opportunity to correct them right off, which gives me a social edge when meeting new people. There is absolutely no way you knew this before I just told you.

I am Brandon, I am a man.

I was born on the day after Christmas 1976, boxing day in Canada. Boxing day is appropriate because I came out fighting, a cesarian. I never wanted to leave my mother’s womb, sometimes I’ve thought about constructing an artificial womb to live out the rest of my days inside. I think an exercise ball filled with warm pudding would be ideal. I would have some kind of breathing apparatus and when I got hungry I would just eat pudding.

My biological mother was a 15 year-old high-school dropout. My mother was weak, but my father was powerful, like a cumulonimbus cloud. I inherited this trait from him, power, sometimes I can feel his energy pulsing through my body as if it were electricity. My ears buzz and my heart booms and I feel like I could kill somebody with a simple touch of the finger. This energy sends me messages from time to time. They are messages from my father, from beyond. I never discovered this until I was about 15. I had been feeling the energy for some time, it would come and go. Then one day in the 9th grade I put my hand against my locker while I was feeling the energy and I heard an echoey, rattley voice that seemed to come from the metal. I drew my hand back and it stopped. I put my hand back and received my first message from my father: “Brandon, I am your father, I love you.”

My father has since told me a little about my mother and what led her to give me up for adoption. He explained that she and him had accidentally swallowed watermelon seeds and while they made her belly swell they made my father shrink down so small that he climbed into my mother’s belly button. He continued shrinking until he no longer existed as matter, he became a force that lives inside my flesh and blood. He has taught me so much and I am eternally in his debt.

I’ve never told a soul about this before, about my father, he instructed me not to. I feel the time is right, since I’m nearing the end of my life and he no longer lives within me. I don’t know how common or uncommon this type of relationship might be but I hope that these revelations might give others comfort in knowing they’re not alone. A comfort I’ve always yearned for myself. Is anybody out there?