hey raccoon, just because i didn't feel it, doesn't mean it didn't happen

Does no one recognize the signs of a stroke? I had a stroke. I was delirious - no blood was going to my brain! Who would actually think I have a god damn boat? I live under some leaves by a puddle. How could I possibly, instantly, afford a boat named "Get on Bitch!"? What I did do, is spend the last few weeks 100 feet from the library, paralyzed from the neck down, sucking dew off grass blades, thankful nobody mowed me. I should have heard search parties and helicopters, but instead I heard only my own labored breathing. Oh, there was a raccoon that sniffed my ass one day, and a crow that periodically stopped by to see if I was dead yet...FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS! But you, my "friends" are the ones who truly sicken me. I miraculously regained my strength, slowly, on my own, with daily progress I made it back to my leaf pile and once I was able to open a can of Spaghettio's - I knew I was going to be okay. I thought I had done some real deep soul-searching in the slammer, but now I really got to know hate, lying there on the ground, left for dead, by idiots too stupid to recognize the obvious signs of a squirrel in peril. I would like to publicly admit that I did make one "death's door" promise to God while I was face down outside the library. A single heartfelt promise that if he, dear God, got me through this alive, I vowed, I promised, I swore, to stop believing in him.

i never promised you a wildflower garden

Where is me.
I'd like to know.
Where is squirrel.
His wife was a ho.
Where oh where.
That sister-in-law so fine.
Where be he.
That shadow of mine.
Well I'll tell you where i am...on a good day - when I am not getting shot at - i am eating out of goddamn dumpsters, picking up fleas everywhere I try to sleep, looking for any drink of water that hasn't been crapped in by birds, losing a fight with the squatters that moved into my house, finding out that medical care for all hasn't happened yet, wishing I was still in prison and hoping jimmy gets hit with a big goddamn shovel in the back of his big ugly misshapened goddamn head.
yeah i am out of prison and life is one big goddamn field of goddamn flowers.
I guess I have more to say, it isn't all bad, i'll try to get back into the library and type more as soon as I can, but my left arm is getting numb and I can't type animo

Whoa, I think I had a stroke. anyway. I bought a boat. Named her the "Get on, bitch!"

Hell yeah.

free

I apologize to any loyal readers out there for not updating sooner. I had my hearing on Sept. 12th as scheduled. By a vote of 6 to 1, I was granted parole. Unfortunately, due to processing and bureaucracy, I cannot actually leave here (prison) until Sept. 18th. It has been explained to me what exactly "squirrel season" means. For those of you, like me, who thought it was an honor, it is not. I cannot even write of what it really means, I find it reprehensible and I fully expect to wake from this nightmare just to find it was all a silly sad dream. But I fear that what it truly is, is proof that my captors are barbarians capable of the most horrific behavior sanctioned by licensing and some sort of twisted specie-centric law. I fear for all of us, and the photo I posted represents the beauty of the natural world slowly blending into the dismal world of man, helpless and dead, the only way jimmy understands it. free to be hunted. free to be a butterfly on pavement. free in a world of fear. and I just want to make my friends laugh, really that is all I ever wanted. laughter and friends. jimmy, can you hear me?

la de da

I have just been marking time until my parole hearing (Sept. 12), kind of going through the same ups and downs as always, when I got a real boost from an unlikely source. My nemesis, arch-enemy, jimmy, sends me an email that I think must be a real turning point for the guy. I want to share it, because I will admit, I did not think there was any hope for an incorrigible scoundrel of his ilk, and yet - I think I was wrong. He is offering an olive branch. Read for yourself...

"Dear squirrel, I know you may be getting out on Sept. 12th. Just thought you should know that it will officially be squirrel season from Sept. 1 until...oh well, don't worry about how long after that, because come September 12, we'll celebrate together. I can hardly wait to get my sights on you. hugs and kisses, jimmy"

Well, blow me over with a whisper! Squirrel Season! Sounds like a holiday time for celebration, finally some real recognition. I haven't heard much about an official proclamation here in prison, but if we squirrels are finally being properly admired - I say, about time! Every season should be squirrel season, but hey, we'll start small. Anyway, I just thought I would speak up to say it looks like jimmy is not such a bad guy after all, and I am squirrel enough to say so. Hey, I wonder if I can be the ambassador of squirrel season? Is it a national holiday or just local? Gosh, this is all so exciting...freedom here I come!

absurd

Why is there anything? I know I am not the first squirrel to ponder the imponderable, but jumping-jesus-with-a-furry-tail, it just doesn't make any sense, I mean even if a squirrel's life is no more meaningful than that of a rock, then what about rocks? Why do they float in space? Why is there space? If squirrels don't matter, why have space? Why is there anything?
Destiny? Ridiculous. Rocks in Space? Equally ridiculous. Ridiculousness? Absurd as a sweet-smelling turd. I am destined to die penniless and right. A dried, curled up carcass next to jimmy's house waiting to be shoveled into the next nothing.
Warden, okay, get me out of this prison, I choose freedom - I choose it now, let me out. I have eternity for nothing, I have right now for me. Me, me, me. I am tired of always thinking of others. September 12th is going to start the new golden age of squirrel. From now on, B sharp or B flattened - (music humor) that's squirrelwrites copyrighted...any of you jackasses want to buy that on a mug?

tweet tweet

I get called in to see the warden and he says to me "ya know squirrel, you're a funny guy." and of course I predictably retort "well, do you mean funny, laugh out loud, haha funny, or funny, curious and strange funny?" and the warden answers shortly, "both."
He continues, "squirrel, around here, funny is not appreciated. Funny is a problem. Funny makes people uncomfortable. All types of funny. I read your last post on the internet, and you are not staying here. Your parole hearing will happen on the 12th, with or without you. You will be paroled. You will leave, and if you ever come back, I will have you remove a section of your own large intestine, and I will personally make you suck dirt through it for 24 hours day until you die. Now go take some pictures of flowers, or some other sissie bullshit that you do, and shut the hell up until the day I finally get you and that teeny little pecker of yours out of my jail."
Well, I don't think I need to say it out loud, but I am going to anyway. My feelings are hurt, and I don't even have a bird.

on second thought

I was walking in the prison yard, again, as my parole hearing date approaches, I have been afforded additional privileges- and I came upon these two feathers, and just as I was contemplating the freedom a bird's feather symbolizes, and taking this sighting as a sign - that I must be paroled, I must fly free. I could now see clearly that without freedom, existence is an opaque experience.
I took a few more steps, and I suddenly saw a lot of feathers strewn all over the yard. it appeared that our winged friend put up pretty good fight, before he was eaten - right there in a grizzly testament to what freedom really is about. I imagine there is another pile of him somewhere else where his digested remains were shat out eventually. I built a small cairn in his honor and then puked.
My furry little nuts and ass tell me that freedom is just another word for "get ready to be eaten alive...against your will." Freedom - no thank you.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.4.12

silk

This is corn silk. I am not a botanist, but I think this is the female part of the corn/cob - the tassel spreads the love, the silk receives the love, and pretty soon we eat the children.
BTW - I think they are going to release me (on parole) on schedule, in a little over a month now (9/12). Of course, now I do have a camera, I do have our prison yard garden (where I have been taking my photos), I have smokes, I have a little more "free" time on the computer, and on the outside? I don't have a house (foreclosed), I don't have a wife (abandoned), I don't have my kids (whoever they are). What I realize, now, is that I don't have any reason to leave - other than freedom . And just what would I do with that?
A beautiful trap, like corn silk, some might say.

whoa, I am tired

I am well over an hour and twenty minutes past my bedtime now, and this stay up all night stuff is wearing a little thin. I think I'm crashing, coming down soft but fast. I'm open and I'm closed, it is morning and it is night. Crap.

finally got a camera

and I like flowers, and hate you. These are forget-me-nots. I am staying up all night. I am posting until I drop. Look at that blue, it makes me want to be a flower. Come and pollinate me. I am very pretty like a flower, and delicate like a flower, and precious like a flower, I may be a flower, I may be all things.

you get it, don't you

there was a hole in the sky
into which i could not climb
an opening where i could not escape
there was no place in it for me to hide
but i could see it, a hole in the sky

ah, whatever

"I've done a lot of work for the community, most of it naked." That is how I plan to start my parole hearing plea. Pretty witty, I think, yet with a sense of whimsy they are sure to find enchanting. By the end of the thing, I suspect they (whoever "they" are) will be eating out of my hand, or paw, or whatever it is. I hope there are some chicks on the hearing council, or board, or whatever it is. I really like chicks, i've been in here a long time and I still really like the females. But you know, all the respect in the world to mrs. squirrel, but I have kind of been thinking that it is a shame to limit my loving to one dame. I mean, let's be honest, I am pretty special, and I do think I could please a large number of the ladies. Not only "could please," but probably, "should please." And yes, a large number, but one at a time. All sizes of the ladies, all colors of the ladies, but one at a time, because that's how this squirrel cracks it. All the deliciously soft and lusciously curvy ladies, I really could make each and every single - or married - one of them happy; slowly, then quickly, then slow again, very slow, and, i gotta go, i really gotta go.

part 2

okay this was a two part thing and this was the part one:

please, please, quit taking my stuff
i want my stuff
it is my stuff
pretty please
i did not know
i gave it away
i gave it to you
and now
i did not know
you would keep it.

and now, step forward to back into part two:

you can not have it
i do not want you to have it
and you say,
"you can not take from me
what you have not given."
and i say
"you can not give back to me
something I have not given
or you did not take from me in the first place."
and you walk away.
please, please, quit taking my stuff.

Please Please

It has been awhile since I posted...yeah, yeah, yeah, parole hearing 9/12, I still hate all of you, yeah. Okay, we're past that, I have been working on my inner self and I wrote a poem to mrs. squirrel, but i took a step back and saw that this is a poem about everything. so get your heads around that, which means, open up your third eye friends, be about you, me, and a squirrel named...part 1 of a 2 part opus, stands on its own, but for those too ignorant to feel that on their own, part 2 tomorrow:

please, please, quit taking my stuff
i want my stuff
it is my stuff
pretty please
i did not know
i gave it away
i gave it to you
and now
i did not know
you would keep it.

if i had a camera, i'd camera in the morning, i'd...

I apologize for not posting with photos. I used to include photos when I was free. I earned a camera in here by doing laundry and giving the warden back and foot rubs, and then, the day I got the camera, it was taken from me in a poke the squirrel in the eye with your finger and then kick him in the nuts until he gives you the camera, game. Thank you again, FCC. But I am not bitter, I have learned my lesson and I both feel and understand the need to uphold the standards of decency set by and cherished by this community in which I reside. 2010/09/12.

the last refuge

Pondering a potential life or death battle with West Nile Virus (WNV) has left me a bit contemplative. For those of you who have continued to care, I do have a new parole hearing date. September 12, 2010. And yes, I feel good about it. If I live to see it, I think this will be my day, my moment, my chance and my liberation. I feel it. So far, I have not developed any additional WNV symptoms. And I feel grateful, I don't care about selling my house, and I don't care about my feuds with simpletons. All I want to do is get simple; back to my woman, maybe get an email from my children. Free in the sun, free in the grass, free in the trees. Free. I just really hope I don't have West Nile Virus. God, I solemnly promise that if I don't hav

where is the government oversight?

...so, I'm walking in the prison yard, for my 5 minutes of excercise time, and it is time to go back in, so I turn to take the first step up and, ug, gack, ah, gah, a mosquito flew right into my mouth and partially down my throat. I tried to dislodge it and get it out with a gag, a sputter, a cough, but it was not going to happen, the bugger was going down before he came out again. So, I swallowed it. Now, I know you can get West Nile Virus from a mosquito bite, but can you get West Nile Virus by swallowing a mosquito with West Nile? Because I am pretty sure this mosquito had West Nile, because why else would it have such bad judgement as to fly down my throat? Now I'm pretty sure I've got West Nile, i'm a little achy and dizzy and my shi

i me, hi me

I'm in the shower, alone for a change. So, a little ME time, if you know what I MEan. And I am looking at this 3 year old middle aged body of mine saying, "hey, not bad...sweet abs, dude." And I lean forward against the front shower wall and watch the water run off my tight toned body and I see the beauty of it all, and me, and it is all simplified. and I turn off the water and I just let the remaining drops drip down and plink, splat, down to the hard echo floor of the shower and times slows, and I take it, and the random rhythm of water collecting and falling off my hair and body onto the basin and into the drain makes me listen to me. completely. oh, did I mention? I have new parole hearing date.

Moron this later

It's great to be squirrel.

Squirrel - Statement of Position

When you people start paying me is when I will start ignoring you with more enthusiasm.

That's right Emerson, my friend, I am still in prison.

Where have I been? I am going to pretend anyone cares, because I had actually given up on this blog, but maybe, just maybe, one of my children will read this, years from now, and understand, from the pain skewered in these words, why I never bothered to try to contact them. Well, back to my story… for about 2 weeks it felt like burning, caustic, rocket fuel was squirting out my anus. When the squirts slowed to a trickle, I was still left with the sensation of someone holding a lit match to my butthole. That lasted about a week and I spent the latter part of that time in a special sling designed to keep my ass-cheeks spread. I missed my parole hearing date. Then I spent the next month squatting over a sandbox desperately trying to squeeze out a real turd, and physically, without exaggeration, for almost 2 weeks, all I could manage was one single BB sized pellet, and the effort to pass even that made me pray for sweet god-damn death. So, cigarettes again seemed like the best way to spend my money, and what was left of my miserable god- and friend-forsaken life. All I had were my smokes… I loved my smokes, and I hated you. And that brings me up to the now. Today, I squeezed out a nice poop, and today, I gave up the smokes, but never, will I stop hating you.

nothing comes easy (except a squirrel in springtime)

This is screen shot my accountant sent me from my squirrelwrites storefront - today. Have I failed to mention that you all suck? Apparently telling potential customers they suck is not a "call to action." I got a B+ in my Marketing 101 class at community college so you should figure I pretty much know all there is to know about selling you stuff you don't know you need...yet! See how I did that? (the question mark is rhetorical, dumbass, I'm gonna tell you...) I drew you in, and then...Whammo! That's marketing. BTW, a B+ was the top grade in my class (bell curve? - my cold furry ass) and I could have gotten into marketing as a profession, but instead, I saw a brighter future in peeing on stuff, and here we are. Anyway whether you grease traps buy anything or not, my marketing skills are unparalleled, and I refuse to let my talent wither (that's a line I once used on mrs. squirrel). So, I am about to unveil a squirrelwrites based charity-like program to potentially help out my friend cardin

stir

good god, my head hurts. I wish I could blame no smokes or coffee, but I know this one is squarely on stress and fatigue. No money from my squirrelwrites storefront - screw all of you! You know what? Simply, I need to get out of prison. When I was a child, I used to dream of being an astronaut, or a shadow - and now, 2 years later, as I enter my golden years, I still wish I were something I am not. Anything but me, here, in this piss-hole. Damn you FCC! To hell with jimmy! Go to hell mrs. squirrel! All of you can smoke my turds, because when I get out, and I'm gonna get out, and when I do, I am coming for all of you, one at a time, each one gets squirrel justice dispensed on you - plop, plop. here i

twig and berries

For the ladies. Past, Present, and Future.

there's frost on my pumpkin

Squirrels are known for their literality, their nuts, and their disproportionately large brains. Tomorrow I am going to post a photo of my twig and berries.

sons-of-bitches, son-of-a-bitch's, life's full of important quandaries

you should be thinking I have been too busy to write, too busy shuffling money around from my storefront to my team of lawyers. But that would not be the case, my readers are cheap bastards (that's you, BTW). The only up side to my predicament is that the t-shirt model found out I don't have any money (and I am in prison), and dropped the lawsuit (bitch). In summary: as you get older (and at 2 1/2 years old, I've seen my share of winters), whether in a prison cell or free, disgusting things start to happen to you - like uncontrollable flatulence, droopy eyelids, and a steady stream of liquid that pools up in the end of your nose that you can't feel until it forms a drop and is about to fall...and soon you will be dead. too soon. but too dead to care. So, try to enjoy today, and tonight, and forget about yesterday, it sucked anyway, and in spite of all the prior evidence you have to the contrary, figure tomorrow might be okay, really, it could be, heck, go ahead and count on it, why not, it's just a bunch a bastards keeping you from enjoying your life anyway, why give them the pleasure? Screw 'em, have a good day, and watch them pretend they are happy for you. They certainly are a-holes, but smile back at them anyway, it's how we cope - wherever four walls surround us. I am going to sleep now, on my back, cause that is how we sleep in prison...Buy a god damn bumper sticker you cheap son-of-a-bitch's.

bumperstickers, coffee mugs, t-shirts, etc. all available for purchase by clicking on the following link:

squirrelwrites

a portion of your purchase may go to squirrels defense fund...or toward cigarettes, or court-ordered child support, hard to say exactly. Note: to see the "F the Man" versions at the storefront, you need to create a username (free), login, and give yourself a PG-13 rating. Hey, guess which chick is suing me (bitch).

i had to smoke

look, I got a little off track and had to take Monday to smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette. After a couple of drags, I felt better and got all nostalgic about my old telephone pole (hence yesterday's post). What I really wanted to do was launch my website yesterday, but now my "New York Pro Bono Ad Agency" has encountered some legal problems, and one of the clothing models (there is clothing involved with my store) claims I made inappropriate advances, which would be hard to do from prison (bitch), and the launch is delayed another day, and that means - if I want to announce the launch tomorrow - no nicotine for my bloodstream. And I am just more than a little on edge. I swear I hate being addicted, but I just don't have the will power, on again, off again, cold turkey, lies to myself, its just a cigarette, I mean it's not crac

poles, bolts and wires

Wow, I really miss this place. You can't imagine. Well maybe you can imagine, but I do know you don't know. And if you do know, you don't understand. If you do understand, then please ask yourself why are you have been quietly letting me sit in a cage for the last 10 months, allowing me to pay a debt only a government could owe? You are better off just admitting you can't imagine.

god-damn-it

This is just bullshit, I can't even finish a thought. You don't want to know how I had to "earn" an extra 5 minutes of internet time in the same day; however, let me at least say, I have new bald spot. If you can avoid prison, I suggest you do so. Anyway, my new slogan - thanks to some pro-bono work from an advertising agency in New-FunKing-York (pretty cool huh? - they like the weather thing I guess) - is "I write crap for idiots." Let that tumble around in your gall-bladder for a while and see if you pass it. I'll tell you right now, I love it. I think this whole thing is turning arou

ok two straight days without a cigarette and i haven't killed anyone, yet

I ran out of time yesterday to explain that I am getting a storefront together to raise money for my legal defense fund. I think it will be up and running by tomorrow. I will try to post a link or something, but I have to tell you that I really, really, really want to smoke. I did get a photo from my friend Bluehead. He was dissapointed that I didn't post his photo with Yellowhead and Redhead. So, here it is, another one of my friends who is worried I didn't post his photo, but not worried enough to visit me, or send money. That all better change soon. Oh, by the way, I have a new slogan, and I need to unvail it here before it shows up in the store - this is my new blog slogan: "I write

let's play ball, hardball

I need a lawyer, bottom line. I thought this proud squirrel (me, you idiots) could handle "the man" on my own, represent myself, with dignity. But alas, I've discovered, once you are a part of this penal system, you are playing their game and the only way out is to play with their balls. I need a decent lawyer soon. I've got to get through this parole hearing in April, so I have come up with a way to raise money for my legal defense fun

no more

I never wanted to write a diary, I was just here to offer a counterpoint to jimmy's self-indulgent drivel. But now, here I sit rotting in a prison cell for nothing more than being me, and sharing a view to that - a view for which I should be revered, cherished, and perhaps even worshipped. Anyway, here in the joint, you live or die by rumor, and rumor has it that my parole hearing is a farce, they have no intention of letting me out. I am done being a patsy, I am tired of being abused, tired of not havin

i gave up a smoke for this, it wasn't worth it

I think I already said this, but everyday is a choice for me, cigarettes or internet or nothing. if I am writing, I am not smoking, that puts me a little on edge, I'm told. I have a parole hearing in April and I'm really not sure if my wife was pregnant and had our kid (assuming it is mine), I don't know how her sister is doing, I am not sure about my house, did anyone drain the pool? and it all just made me wonder when i woke up this morning, miserable and alone, if I wasn't better off in jail, because compared to being out there with the rest of you, "miserable and alone" might just be an improvement.

my friends

I brought a couple of photos of my friends to keep with me during my prison time. these pictures help me forget where I am, and help me remember who I am.

My friends.

finding my better squirrel

hi jimmy,
i thought i was in a better spot. my rage management classes had been downgraded to anger management, and i was pretty sure i was okay with you and every other nagging puss-filled stye in my life - but just one day, after 9 months of not even a hello, you decide to communicate with me and just in that moment of reading your ignorance... all my good feelings, my calmness, my serenity, my lies to myself, exposed. i hate you, others must see that you are selfish, self-absorbed and ignorant, yet i feel it is up to me to expose you, and this power your passion for the self has over me is what i mus

are there still trees?

here in the joint, you "earn" privileges - like my 5 minutes of internet time, or cigarettes, or a look out of a window. I have been using most of my "earnings" on smokes, as even when I have looked out the window, I can only see sky - no ground, no trees, no other squirrels, nothing. This is all jimmy's fault, but I harbor no ill will, especially since I hope for a parole hearing sometime in the next few weeks, and am actually scheduled to get ou

In humble gratitude to my benevolent captors...

Happy Valentine's Day! For those of you who don't know, I am still in jail. The fine people who run this fine establishment have found it in their hearts to allow me internet access for 5 minutes each day. The Apple IIE they have in the library takes 4 and 1/2 minutes to boot and the dialup modem rarely connects, so that doesn't give me much time to communi