Category: The Fractal Journal

Ridiculous Thoughts Whilst…

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Humor, The Fractal Journal, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Weightlifting

Image result for weightlifting nerd

1) My one purpose in life is to destroy my enemies. Everyone is my enemy.

2) I will crush you.

3) I’m going to eat a moose.

4) I need to poop. I need to poop for days. I need to poop for aeons!

5) That six foot eight dude over there with legs like tree trunks. I can take ‘im. Fokin nancy.

6) Iskander Dhul Karnon…idolator PAGAN! Possesor of the horns of AMMON…CONQUEROR of both the rising and setting of the sun!

7) I could kill a moose. Yea…with my bare hands. In fact I’m goin to go around livin off moose flesh that I personally chase down and dismember.

8) I am ridicolously well endowed. My member is like that of a He-Ass. Or something equally Biblical.

9) I really like cheesecake. I should go on all cheesecake diet. I’m a the gym. I deserve this.

10) If I just keep doin enough reps I’ll be totally jacked. Heavy weights are for jocks. I am enlightened.

11) I have a lot in common with Attila the Hun.

12) I want a latte. I could live off the land…

13) Everyone wants me. I am sex.

14) I will topple kingdoms with my schwanz.

15) KITTENS!

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Stray Thoughts on the “Livable Wage”

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Current Events, Philosophy, Politics, The Fractal Journal, Uncategorized, VlogLeave a comment

 

It’s a pretty complciated (sigh…complicated*) issue. So all I can do is sort of sketch out some ideas.

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O You River (Vocal/Guitar/Poem)

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, poems, Stories, The Fractal Journal, UncategorizedLeave a comment

 

The words again…

I am waiting for somebody to tell me

That they are doing something more than this

I am waiting for somebody to tell me

All about the the things that I am gonna miss

I am waiting for the wisdom of the middle way

Of those that muddled through

And have so much to say

To someone like me to someone so blue

Cause I just can’t be left blank left well alone

So fill me in

Tell me how I’m just a one note drone

If you play genie I’ll play Alladin

So please if you please

I am waiting for sombeody to tell me

Come on don’t tease

I am waiting to hear that you are doing something more than this

Tell me tell me

All about the thigns that I am gonna miss

Or maybe what you see

Is not so far from here

Maybe maybe

I am just too clear

O yea baby

Are you gonna teach

The Sea to sing

O you river

You’re the king?

Eh?

Ok…

OK

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Tacky Songs ‘n Revelations (Poem/Song)

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, poems, Stories, The Fractal Journal, UncategorizedLeave a comment

(Musical amateurism inspired by an abandoned tub I found as a feral boy in SC. )

 

O I dont know I have never seen the moon so bright.

O I dont know I have never felt the need to die except for…

In the presence of

In the presence of all these leaves

how they fell right here…right here…

What a strange…what a strange….what a strange…

Place…for a…for a wash….

And the leaves are gathering

And all the little bugs are dead

And the moon is shining through where there was a showerhead

..And the little white flowers and the little bit of moss

And the honesuckle dew

Yea

none of these thigns are

Quite as sweet as you

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Friday Freewrite – Totentanz

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Original Fiction, Stories, The Fractal Journal, Uncategorized, Weird FictionLeave a comment

Image result for cigarette in ashtray

I didn’t find fear in a dark alley. Nor did I find it in some lonesome backwood cabin. There was no metro labyrinth. Monsters and ghosts are but paper tigers.

I found terror at the end of a cigarette.

It was mere tabacco. No one had laced it. I’d taken nothing but a coffee prior.

Yet as the last ring combusted and collapsed as ash onto the porcelain I died.

It was a silent explosion. A silent explosion in my head. Like an old camera flash sans sound.

As bright dust settled everything had changed. I looked at the roundheaded blonde with the outsized blue eyes but I didn’t see her.

I was sitting in the diner but I was no longer there.

She asked what was wrong and my lips merely smiled.

Despite the bright fluorescence of the resteraunt lights I felt the dark. I felt it pressing in from every angle.

All eternity was pressing down upon us. Every sentence that had been and every sentence that would be drowned this period. We were merely punctuation.

I traced the outline of her skull. Totentanz was here. Whirling and laughing the mad company mocked with invisible suggestion.

Her every freckle a star. Stars that formed constellations made of the dust of the infiinite dead.

She looked up form her absent minded sketching on the napkin. Again asking what was wrong.

I could not answer. My mouth was stuffed with the pitch of the abyss.

Death eternal, the only constant, the ground base against which faint viol peals of punctuation grasped haphazard for a melody.

She told me that my eyes had changed color again. A trick of perception born of inattention. My eyes are hazel. Grey, green, brown, and blue and what you see all depends on what the light wants.

But what seized me was the opposite. It was not a trick. It was perception. Cutting with a sharp dullness it showed what the dark wants.

She wants us to know that she is our mother. That from her we spring and to her we shall return.

Selah.

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A Profoundly Unamerican Sentiment (Fixed Vlog)

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Current Events, Philosophy, Politics, Social Commentary, The Fractal Journal, Uncategorized, VlogLeave a comment

To deprive an individual of the right to govern his own affairs is an unamerican idea.

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A Profoundly UnAmerican Sentiment (Vlog)

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Philosophy, The Fractal Journal, Uncategorized, VlogLeave a comment

Uh OH! Looks like YT formatted out the clip I had in the video…bbl. It’s no big probably has to do with  the fact that it was webm clip. Should be fixed sometime tommorow. Apologies.

A dirty Ruski opines on Lockian values.

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The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 9.6 – Elevenses

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Original Fiction, Original Fiction Series, Sketch of Sam Monroe, Stories, The Fractal Journal, Uncategorized, Weird FictionLeave a comment
Image result for elevenses
Art by some hippie here’s the link.

I didn’t have much reason to hang around the dawning of Atlantis. So I cleared my mind and rejoined the expedition.

“Is it elevenses already?” Sam inquired.

“Huh?”

“What’s with the teaball man?”

“Oh..uh..I just had forgotten I’d put it in my pocket.”

“That’s pretty weird my dude. Heh..say what’s in that tea braheem…?”

I actually had no idea since I’d just gotten it from a Victorian ghost. But, I did know that now was not the time to consume it.

“Maybe I’ll let you try some later. And we’ll see if you can sit with elders of the gentle race.”

I stepped off the trail and let the expedition troop past me as I deposited the item into my ruck.

Doctor Cook came up on me after a bit.

“I have been talking to Senhor Hoyt.”

“O?”

“Si, and he says that the map merely leads to another map.”

“Jesus.”

“Yes, that’s what I said. I love the jungle. I love the ruins we are seeing but…even I have my limits.”

“I think I reached mine before this party started.”

“There are many limits to be broken.” Graham muttered melodramatically.

“So Ipsissimus…” I quipped. “Where the hell are we?”

“We are a hundred some miles northeast of the true coordinates of Dead Horse Camp.”

“Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet….!” I taunted.

“We are within fifty miles of the location of the second map.”

“Please tell me that there are only two maps. Please….”

Graham merely smirked .

‘What a dick.’

“You’re not going to tell me where the second map is gonna take us are you?”

“Why do you assume I know.”

“Because you’re fucking demon possessed…”

“Am I?”

I was getting really tired of that statementesque question.

“Yep.”

“You know that they said the same thing to Jesus.”

“And Satan often dresses up like Jesus.”

“Isn’t it teatime?” Graham prodded.

“Um…” There was no way he had seen my recent acquisition. Though given all his newly acquired parlor tricks I took this as a sign that it was indeed time for elevenses.

We had been trooping since dawn and my suggestion was roundly accepted.

Graham, Cook, and I found a spot away from the expedition and sat down to tea.

Full Text

~

Previous Chapter

The Sketch of Sam Monroe is a weird fiction thriller. Follow the adventures of five quirky Black Ops pharmacologists as they globetrot their way to the Mato Grosso jungles. Philosophy, psychedelics, and banter are infused throughout this literary comic-book.

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Late (Poem)

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, poems, The Fractal Journal, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Image result for tension

Always

Stringy just stretching

Way too thin

Reaching

Way too far

Searching

For the guiding warmth from some distant star

Ever on the horizon

Never within grip

Always it lies on

Some surface from which it’s too easy to slip

So the muscles  they tense and they strain

Just for a radar blip

The burning of sinew and brain

Now it is late

And I find no respite

Nothing will sate

The thirst for the light

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