Scriptis noctum

My mind is on fire, I don’t know how to put it out. At night I dream of magma chambers, I’m trapped inside. I can only escape through the lava tubes. I ride them like waterslides. I am erupted from a volcano, on fire and in skeleton form. Nobody sees me. I fall into the jungle, starting a family is impossible. There are no mates here. I lie on my back, watching the sky blink day and night, the sun and moon stripe across the sky. Only the ants will take me in. I join their colony only to be dehumanized once again, carrying food and supplies back and forth. Defecation is my only reprieve, which I learn to cherish. My name is no longer Brandon Johnn. My name is Grandon Vohnn. Then I awake, beads of sweat like ants crawling down my face. I’m home, a new nightmare begins.

Dryness

It rained today. I think the best way to understand the rain is by standing in it, which can leave you feeling wet, inside and out. If you are wet on the outside then you have to dry off afterwards. The best way to dry off is by tumbling or spinning. Tumbling only works well if there is a lot of space, but if you are wet in a crowded area then I suggest you just spin as fast as you can. The force of the spin will expel the water from your body and clothes, this will also leave your clothes looking as if they’ve been pressed. When you tumble, make sure you tumble down stairs or down the hood of a car, otherwise you won’t get dry.

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?

Big Brother

I was home last night playing strip solitaire after work, the game was just getting interesting when I got a phone call from an unknown number. It was a 702 area code, Las Vegas. I didn't answer the phone in time so I missed the call. They didn't leave a voicemail. Spades and diamonds were already on my mind, I didn't know what to make of it. I don't know anyone in Vegas, but they must know me. Did they somehow see me cheat just then? Can't I play by my own rules in my own house? I really don't mind being watched, but I've always hated bullies.

How to make friends and loved ones

I don’t like wasting my time with idiots. When meeting people I usually implement a social filter of some sort to see if they are worth my time.

Here is a walk-through of what I recently began doing in parks:

1) I first go into the park and sit down right next to somebody on an otherwise empty bench, our bodies touching. Some people find this uncomfortable and will leave within minutes. Most people like to stick it out and prove they aren’t afraid or suspicious of strangers.

2) Next, I Begin leafing through large-print photos of myself, photos big enough that my face appears life-sized in my lap. I have seven different photos I use for this (happy, sad, surprised, eager, asleep, dramatic, and silly). I make sure to tilt the prints towards my friend so they can be sure to see them. I let the photos do the work for me, a true Johnnrade will seize the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

3) I put away my headshots and let the friendship or romance take root.

Be creative, don't be afraid to try variations on this. My friend Quint uses photos of children playing soccer.

A social problem with a simple solution.

As I was coming up the stairs out of the subway I saw a man at the top, likely a bum, with his hand up soliciting a high five. I could feel his filthy eyes greasing up my jib, but I focused my energy and ignored my natural curiosity. I strode past pretending he didn't exist. I do this with all bums, especially ones who try to engage me. Humoring him would have resulted in a hand full of filth or an embarrassing "diss".

Bums are a social problem that breaks two otherwise solid conventions:

You can't judge a book by its cover. This is not applicable, bums are just as filthy on the inside as they are on the outside. No bums have any potential whatsoever.

Ignoring a problem is not a solution to a problem. Also N/A, I can actually see bums shrink in size from the corner of my eye as I ignore them. By my estimation it would take approximately 150 cold shoulders to make normal-sized male bum disappear completely. Think about that, it's a problem that's frighteningly simple to solve if we all pitch in.

The Decomposure of Brandon Johnn

My face is covered in flies

Only pregnant women get by

I am medium sized

Don't tell me who i am

I am Brandon, I am a man.

Let's try new things

My pursuits come passively

I am not without sin

Don't tell me who I am

I am Brandon, I am a man.

I'm never recognized

My computer burrs and pipes

this is not a jive

Don't tell me who I am

I am Brandon, I am a man.

This is a work in progress, but I think it's going well. It's meant to be a song.

Coming to a realization

Today I was thinking a lot about flowers. I think all flowers and blossoms are beautiful, I dare you to find an ugly one. You won't be able to do it. Does this make me a bisexual since I'm attracted to both male and female flowers? I'm not attracted to male humans. All cats are cute too. I guess I'm only bisexual with flowers and cats. Maybe just bi-curious, is there a name for this?

a new superhero

If I could have the power of any animal it would be that of a tick. Ticks are indestructible and they suck blood. Just call me Tick Tock.

SLAM

I try to visit the top of the Empire State Building at least once every month. The last few times I've gone I've started bringing a bag of coins to the top. I etch "SLAM" into the face of each coin and deftly throw it off the observation deck. Nobody has caught me yet. I'm hoping this will make me famous someday.

A painful reminder of how things used to be.

The Emmys were last night. Unfortunately none of the shows nominated are worth 3 pence less than a nickel. Ever since Murphy Brown went off the air my TV has been facing the wall, ashamed of its programming. I still long for Candace Bergen, or Candace Johnn as I prefer. All the Tina Feys in the world will never fill this hole in my heart. A hole shaped like Candace Bergen.

Man vs Beast

Somebody once told me that humans are the only animal that sleeps on their back. The reason we humans do this is so our souls don't seep out through our belly buttons. If we slept on our stomachs every night it would only take about 3 years before we lost our souls completely. The one thing all serial killers have in common is that they sleep face down.

Good Genes

I hate glasses. Not only do they make me look stupid and ugly, but they make everyone else look ugly too. When i wear them i can see all kinds of imperfections in their skin that i would have never noticed before. Everyone in the world is undatable if you have 20/20 vision. Which is why i think perfect vision is a curse and I am blessed. My vision is just good enough to tell if somebody is looking at me from 15 feet away, and that's all I need.

My Mind

Somebody once told me: "Brandon, your mind is like a steel trap!"

I thought about this long and hard, what did he refer to? It was after I had noticed he his misuse of the plural form of the word crisis, he had said crisises, rather than the correct form: crises. I never realized Aaron was such a layman until that moment.

Having a mind like a steel trap is being an intelligent human being, nothing more. Nothing in my mind is spring loaded, although the sting of my wit might make one think otherwise.

Now I realize how intimidating my wit can be, I don't miss a beat, much like a steel trap doesn't miss a raccoon's leg if they step on the loaded plate. Aaron stepped on the loaded plate of my mind, and it stung. Now I know how the farmer feels when he catches the raccoon that's been getting into his corn and eating his chickens. Will he show mercy?