on aging

on average squirrels live to be about 110. my family's life expectancy is higher than most hives. our hive can live to be up to 140. upon reaching 75 i still feel that i have half of my life in front of me. there is still time to do all the things i have always wanted to accomplish like see daft punk in concert. i figure i get out of prison in a week or two, after that i'll hit the road to toadsville and do some construction for jimmy. with some cash in pocket i'll hit all the strip clubs this side of manhattansville.i'll hit all the dive joints and play pinball with my life. i will go on a 12 day bender before i wind up in a Phoenix discount furniture store, collapsed on the frilly duvet in a pool of vomit. after that i'll compose myself, move in with my great aunt, and get my shit together.

call me squirrel

Mark McGuire really drove it home tonight with that homer in the bottom of the ninth with 2 outs and 7 strikes, no balls. I curled up into a ball and listened to the howling of the fan's applause shaking the prison walls. Luis was losing his shit. Manuel bit off the finger of a former flight attendant in c block. I am still in solitude, icy solitude but I can hear, I can hear and I can imagine, construct, build and destroy. this is the essence of feline existence.GO YANKS

book review 4 u

don't believe everything you read, if you do you will be sourly disappointed by former Met's center fielder Ricky Henderson's new memoir- my life, my strife, diary of an enemy combatant. it is not Henderson's lackluster prose that I take issue with, it is not even his confirmed Nazi affiliation that irks my system, most of all i am squandered by his improper use of the semi colon; the fundamental building block of grammar. ;; don't make the same mistake i did. instead, pick up Thomas Pynchon's new thriller- Dinotopia, magic and the avant-garde in non- kosher hot dogs

Ricky Henderson



Annete Bening

red leaf lettuce/ oily isolation/ castor oil

you should have seen it hombre- there was fight in the inner yard, next to the shaft. 7 visionairres got shanked by Rafael and the raptors. i was in solitude myself. i have been in isolation ever since i was caught sneaking weenies out of the mess hall into my cell. the pigs said i was tryin to make a weapon out of the buns. i told the pigs they were beef dogs- ballpark style- i told the feline freaks i was just hungry. the acorns here taste like walnuts. ive posted a picture of maggie gyllenhall up on the wall next to bunk. she is my only companion and i know she'll understand and emphasize when i get out. it's like i'm living in a film- basketball diaries or something. what do i do all day? i sit around and study german, i try to work out, keep my tail groomed. i'm benching up to 17 grams. i listen exclusively to the new Bjork album (thanks Patrick for sending me that one. i can't wait till may 4th when i'll be free to pursue my passion- online rpgs. peace and love- squirrel

cloned squirrels

what is squirrel's favorite musical number u ask? 1. Sitting on the dock of the bay. Squirrel cries fiery tears whenever he hears this one on the airwaves while he is sitting in his cubicle at work. 2. anything by POD- especially that one called youth of the generation. Squirrel relates to this song because at 99 (20 in human years) Squirrel is reaching the point in his life where he feels there is a decision to be made about which path he will take through the stormy night. POD empowers and inspires Squirrel to choose the path on the left (the path of suffering). Lying at night in his jail cell, staring at the crusty ceiling, Squirrel wishes he had never met rabid robby. also, squirrel wishes he had given ezra a chance to make it up to him before acting so rashly. What is Squirrel's number 1 regret? hangin with rabid robby. 2. mashed potatoes & steamy gravy at redneck's. 3. gettin tossed into the slammer for a crime he didn't commit

'A young whale thrashed the water, beached itself at an oil depot dock and died suddenly on Wednesday after two days of swimming aimlessly in a small bay off an industrial section of Brooklyn.'

prison dream

in my dream there is a white wolf standing on its hind legs. the wolf is the general of an army of squirrels perched in the branches of an oak. they represent the homo thugs here in the meat locker. there is also a seal with legs pacing around the oak and playfully bouncing a ball off its nose. i am wearing a red cape and a three cornered hat. i remember that i am late to class and scurry off to the subway. on the way, i stop at dunkin donuts and buy a boston creme for the pigeons. the river is ice. the tree is on fire. in the flames there appears the image of my father Herman cradling a young child. i hear a noise that sounds like a garbage truck drowning.

i wake up in a cold sweat and Bruce is hovering above me swigging from a bottle of acorn brandy. he looks into my eyes and says, "you sleep like a baby, baby"