Saturday, February 28, 2009

"The Alex Show" Episode 2, part I

This is where they would normally insert a recap of the last episode, but that kind of redundancy is unnecessary to me. If you missed any segments prior to what you are reading now, simply scroll down the page and read, or tune in more often. You are not a sinner, stop being sloth.

FLASH FLASH FLASH SPIN SPIN SPIN *insert jingle and rotating silhouetted something or other here*

"I feel like I am wearing a helmet!" she screams.

ASIDE: Okay, fine... maybe a little recap.

"You are clearly not," I assure her.

"Nothing fits. I don't think these images belong to me. And these sounds, they are so strange like I am underwater."

"Can you see under the water?"

"It does not hurt, if that's what you're asking," she answers, slowly turning her head and examining the room, "but these shelves weren't here before. Where did they come from? Who put them here, and why?"

"I'm not quite sure. Perhaps you put them up before you even knew this place."

"That's just silly, Alex. I would never choose such crazy colors. Why would I need a shelf to be so exuberant? It's just a shelf! Besides, I do not have the tools."

She is more than right on that part. Even if she does have the tools, God knows she will not be able to install those shelves by herself. Someone else must have been here after all.

"Well, whoever it was was not very handy. See how your belongings tilt?" I point out.

"The way they stand is the least of my worries. How will I know where anything is anymore?!" she pouts, crossing her arms and glaring at the shelves as if a scoff will somehow scare them off the walls and out of her once lifeless room.

"How did you know where anything was before now?!"

"Everything was in its right place: the floor. 'Where is your this? Where is your that?' Easy, right on the floor! I don't know where anything is anymore!"

I know she isn't angry, just sad. She does not whirl about or attack the shelves in any physical form. She is merely standing in the middle of her room, pouting, waiting for the mirthful shelves to remove their mirthful selves out of her murky hell.

"This place was a mess," I calmly tell her, "a clutter of shuffled papers, candy wrappers, and names you have long forgotten. Your room is far colder than the rest of this house. Your window is not to blame. It may be February still, but it is warmer outside than where we are standing. Well, at least it was, but now I am comfortable. I feel full. I think these shelves are the difference. I think these shelves are here to help."

"I never wished for help!" she snaps, finally on the verge of breaking. "I only wish for things that I know can happen. I cannot be helped, Alex, let alone by a shelf!"

"That is not the point of a wish," I counter, holding her by the shoulders and pulling her close. "A wish is allowed to be selfish, impossible even! A wish should be a miracle."

"What would you know, Alex?! You never wish for anything anymore! You mean to tell me these shelves are miraculous?! That is stupid, Alex. Stupid!"

After pushing me away, she runs to the shelves and knocks her belongings back onto the floor. A shiver crawls up my spine and tears my limbs. I quiver to be warm and to be full again.

to be continued...

- Alexander McCurdy

Thursday, February 26, 2009

"The Alex Show" Episode 1, part II

Allow me to set the scene. It would seem apparent that I am apparent by now, but we all know that would be another silly fabrication of hers. In reality she is tuning in right now. You are, too. It is almost impossible not to. After all, your own life is influenced and dishonest. You can purchase smiles and other physical garments to cover your impurity, but no matter how vigorously you scrub, you will never rid of that invisible coat of dirt. You will always be able to smell it. Don't get me wrong, dressing up is fun and all, but to pretend is to work, and I know you are tired. It is pleasant to sit back and just watch sometimes, so pop some corn, order a pizza, and sprawl out on your mattress. Let us begin.


This is how I always start. I need your attention, so put it on a shelf with a cheaply priced sticker. I cannot afford to buy all of you, so flip the switch if Peter Griffin is more of an interest. Oh, I almost forgot my disclaimer.

DISCLAIMER: The several differences between what you are viewing now and the concept film they created back in 1998 are simple:
  • there are only two cameras, one for each of my eyes
  • there are only two mics, located in each of my ears
  • my name is Alex (pretty common, I know. I am aiming to get my middle name in the title, as well)
  • I have been fully aware of this show's existence since I was four (1993)
  • there is no door. the world is my boundary, but I plan on breaking even that
  • I know that everyone is an actor. It's what people do
Now let us begin.


"I feel like I am wearing a helmet!" she screams.

to be continued...

- Alexander McCurdy

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

"The Alex Show" Episode 1, part I

The only time she extracts her mind is when she sleeps. In a dream, she walks into her house - never a home, never her own - and mechanically creeps up the stairs. She doesn't think of slipping, falling, breaking, spilling, or how to clean up the mess if she were to make one - intentionally or not. She merely wishes not to be heard, bothered, or distracted. Stealth as can be, she heads to the unlocked room she calls her own and drops her belongings. All of her possessions are the same. They have a place, they have a time, they have a shape, they have a name... but they are rarely recognized or condoled at all. Much like her mind, the walls that surround her are bleak. There is no decoration. She sees no point. She'll just have to tear it all down soon enough. What's the use in cleaning something if it's just going to get dirty again? she wonders. She still makes her bed every morning.

With an optional sigh, she takes out her laptop and lays herself down. Looking passed the screen toward nothing at all, she habitually checks her e-mail. Regardless of what there is to read, her expression does not change, nor does her heart. Her to-do list is done for the day. Now she can finally live a little. Unfortunately for her, to live is to die - not eternally, but for a good eight hours or so. She closes her eyes to analyze their insides. In practically no time at all, she ventures into an alluring yet dangerous world. A dream within a dream.

This is where I come into the picture.

to be continued...

- Alexander McCurdy

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

i can teach you how to fly...

the road turns into a keepsake of your life at bloom. the tables have turned, because we picked them up and spun them around the room. exit at the sound of my call, because nothing ever happens when you fall. no, nothing ever happens at all.

the lines are passing faster and fading into a ceaseless stripe. day and night, day and night the divide that once parted us was not the steady type. you can jump from here, it won't change my mind, because nothing ever happens in the sky. no, nothing ever happens when you die.

i can teach you how to fly
i can teach you how to fly
i can teach you how to fly
at least i'll try

- Alexander McCurdy

Saturday, February 21, 2009

bunnies taste yummy when my tummy feels funny

i am biting the jaws of hell. they taste better than they smell.
i am a rehearsed raindrop. i fall without knowing where i will land, but i know how i will spill. i know i will mean everything to the sand, something to a flower, and nothing to the pavement.
i am the dull end of the knife. i am the release you want and the pain you wish to avoid.
i am the edge of a bowl. i cannot cradle the contents, but with your lips, you will drink from me.
i am the skin of a snake. i appear cold and coarse, but with one touch, you will feel my warmth.
i am the reflection in a wishing well. i smile from below, knowing that i am your most exigent desire, but you will have to jump, you will have to sink to reach me.

- Alexander McCurdy

Friday, February 20, 2009

i am so fuckin humble!

i like how people brag about their modesty. do you think Jesus only "sacrificed" himself to show off his awesome humility skills?

i like how people admit to being liars in hopes that it will make them appear more honest than people who state that they do not lie. if a man admits to killing another man, does that make him more innocent than a murderer who denies it?

i also like gummy bears. Haribo is always a good choice, but these are my favorite.

- Alex

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Elegantly Falling From Grace

scratch scratch scratch scratch SCRATCH away that silver lining of rotten skin. It sold your win, it holds you in, and molds you into a sculpted sot of do's and do not's. You are marked for one dollar, so easily bought. Now thirsty for more, THIRSTY FOR MORE, you explore the world of half empty shots. You slowly unravel and disconnect the dots, untying the knots you freely forgot. Once the wax scrapes that paper, you cannot erase the space where you placed it or the blue on your face. If you don't like the chase, then try to replace the paper all together with a heartier lace. Attempt to trace the outline of your silicone vase before your once beating chest is forever unchaste

... elegantly falling from grace.

- Alexander McCurdy

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

lame ranch

I love the taste of "Cool Ranch" Doritos, but what ever happened to "Cooler Ranch" Doritos?! Did advertising wake up one morning and say, "Hey, I have a really cool layout for the new Doritos bags. Unfortunately, it is so fuckin cool, that we had to take some of the "er" away from Cooler Ranch."
Personally, I don't care if the bag looks cool or not. I want the taste to be cool. Now every time I eat "Cool Ranch" Doritos, I feel cheated, because I KNOW there are cooler chips somewhere out there! Even worse, all this time no one stopped to think, "Holy shit balls! Where are the "Coolest Ranch" Doritos?!"
Am I not cool enough to have the coolest? Well, fuck you, Doritos! I'm so fuckin cool that I'm going to make my own chips with a zesty ranch flavor. I'll call them, "Frigid Ranch." No! Even better yet, "Glacial Ranch" triangle chips. Eat that, suckas!


Sunday, February 15, 2009

the lack there of tonsil is open for a third time

I swear, I can be such a twelve year old girl at times, that I should learn to play the flute.

- afm

Saturday, February 14, 2009

As Tall As Lionesses

The average life span of a lion is less than that of a domestic house cat. What is the point in ruling the jungle for a mere eight to fourteen years? What do lions hope to accomplish in such a short amount of time? Royalty is overrated. Personally, I would resign as king and spend more time learning to tap dance or master paddle pong.
Anyways, I'm thinking about lions, because I find them appropriate on a day like today.
Female lions are the hunters, so in this case I have only dated lionesses. I'm not complaining in the least. Everyone likes being preyed upon from time to time. I just want to want something (anything) bad enough to pursue the chase again. Don't get me wrong, I eat plenty of fast food, but there are times that I do miss dining out.

- Alex

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Frosted Flakers

I strongly dislike it when people flake. The only good flakes are the frosted kind. They're great with three to four r's. I wonder if Tony the Tiger's full name is Anthony the Tiger. If so, do you think we call him by his nickname so he sounds more kid friendly? Then again, why is he naked? That's a little too friendly. I wouldn't let my kids play soccer with a naked tiger. In fact, I wouldn't let my kids play with any tiger (unless there was a tiger sponsored by Raisin Bran Crunch and he could hook a brother up. I fuckin love Raisin Bran Crunch)! Maybe Tony the Tiger only goes by Anthony when he is in board meetings. If that were the case, I would imagine him to be in suit and tie attire, so why does he rid of the suit part when he coaches children? Not very professional. Maybe he only goes by Tony the Tiger for alliteration purposes. Who knows? The point is, I hate flakers.

- Alex

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Beware of the Bear

A bear cleans his teeth
With barbwire claws -
Sharp unlike his wit -
Till each pointed blade
Sparkles in the shade.
He shifts to his feet -
Or in this case, paws -
Of banana splits
For his masquerade:
A grisly parade.

A peculiar way
For a bear to wade.

- Alex McCurdy

Saturday, February 7, 2009

shake, wake, break

The protagonist is familiar, but not himself. He hopelessly watches as the supporting role - his true self - makes destructive decisions. He knows that once he ventures back to the conscious world, his dynasty will be collapsing to its ruin. He cannot hold up these walls alone.

The protagonist decides to escape by any means necessary. The road less traveled is the easy way out after all.

- Alex McCurdy

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Life Obsessions and a Vile Exception (revisited)

Your body is nothing short
Of a bloodless cadaver
Tarnished from the blackened lungs
Of a serpent's twisted tongue.

Ankles meet your hands and knees,
Bound together and diseased
By prying fiends, perverted probes
Who clothed you in a leafless robe.

Barter off your pallid skin.
Let the mongers lure you in.
Sell it off, you filthy whore.
Surely you were never pure.

- Alexander McCurdy

to be continued...

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

"I'd burn alive to keep you warm..."

I have not been this torn about a band change since Anthony Green left Saosin. I fear what comes next. One original member. They should change their name. Regardless of the future, nothing can erase how heavily their past has influenced me not only as a musician, but as a person.

"so raise our glasses one more time.
may the best man overdose on pride."

-The Bled

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Are S Dee Es D

I reside in a restful forest, but it rains relentlessly. The water shifts to the center of shaken scales. I can detain them in my hands, and the driblets will not dribble through. I can drain every drop from every drink and still feel dry. I can be stuck in a storm, sheltered under the sweeping sequence of trees, and still feel stripped. Saturation is sealed in my destiny, but as docile as the determined downfall may be, I still feel deserted in a desert.

- Alexander McCurdy