Thu, 19 May 2005

the god poked me in the hindbrain i store in my womb
One of my more loathsome habits is stealing pens. I’ve been doing it since I was six, when I found a child-sized victory in leaving the principal’s office with his old-style Conklin in the front pouch of my Garanimals overalls. Since then I’ve picked up pens from the NSA, from the Curl Up And Dye Beauty Shop (which I visited, years later, and even got a picture of), a Mr. Spock floaty-pen, and a weird cheap Bic pen with a sculpy figure at the far end, voodoo needles in its genitals and eyes. That’s the one I use to pay bills with, on the rare occasion that I pay bills. In order to karmically make up for this, I printed up a gross of pens, each with their own little message, which I’ve been leaving in places where they seem likely to be swiped. Being me, however, I felt a need to put questionable messages on the pens, such as “This pen was used to sign a Texas death sentence” and “All secrets written with this pen will be publically displayed in an unflattering light” and “This is the pen your nemesis will stab you in the throat with” and “This pen contains invisible ink, so don’t sign any checks with it, or maybe it doesn’t”.
(12:14.05.19.2005) [/ana] #