For Karl: Bilja Goes Long!

Oh! Bilja just realizes titlement sound of the dirty. But no matter! Bilja had wonderful time, going to adoptive parental place of residing and playing of the Chucky Cheese footbal into water! Child-nephew throws and says American Football chants, and in Bilja goes! Was safely good with child-tube around waist! No drowning around the suburban water holdingness!
And sharky fin apparatus for hand was good, as shoots water! Watch out, little humans! I squirt aquaticness at your person!




Ah! Action shot of Bilja doing the Long-Going! Most unfortunate, the finger of welly-manicured American girl-sister in the picture view. But what is a Bilja to do? Cry? No... no cry for Bilja. Bilja cry only once, when Suity Man take Neishna away to southern country, and when this had happen, slap on the face. No more cry for Bilja.

Oh! Bilja wears American sock on feet for to be useful in the riddance of "algae".. or "algernon"... in the hole of swimming.
Looking good, no? Socks are luxury!

What the Hell?

Okay, so my friend, Laura, has been having pregnancy dreams lately. Fair enough.
My dreams? Fucked up, creepy ghosty ones.

I had one a couple nights ago from which I awoke crying.
I was on something like a cherry picker in the alley behind my parents' house in Oak Park, and my cousin, MaryKay, was with me and another presence unidentified. The sky above us looked like it was getting ready to storm heavily.
You know how sometimes when it's already overwhelmingly thunderstorm-y looking, and you can see lower whisps of dark cloud, like they aim at touching the earth? We had noticed a mass of that sort, and MaryKay, ever the smartass, said:
"There ya go: Mother Nature, showing off yet again with her penchant for dramatics and lighting..."
I only know there was another presence on this elevated platform with us, as I recall hearing another voice join in laughing at Mary's comment...

And then I'm looking down at MaryKay, standing below me in the alleyway, and the cloud has come down to her level.
It begins entering the center of her ribcage, and she's just frozen, looking down at it and gasping airlessly.
Now I'm down at her level, watching this dark thing taking its time, snaking slowly and evilly into her, and I want to help, but am afraid to make it aware of my presence, lest it turn on me. I felt so helpless and stupid...
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And then last night was like a horrible B-movie come to life.
I was helping a friend move into an apartment, which she said "had some quirks"...
There was a closet of some sort, like the big ones with trifolding, slatted doors, through which this hideous old zombie-devil lady kept sticking her head every time I walked past. She was corrosion, she was Death, and I even remember the smell.
Somehow a group of teenagers got into the apartment, and they were zombies... or something. I mean, they were all decaying, but their purpose wasn't to eat organs or brains or anything... it was more like they just wanted to share in the futility of keeping this planet going. They were retardedly perky about it, too:
"No, really! End of the World! Tomorrow!"
"Have you REALLY thought about why you want to live?"
"My uncle is dead, and he says it's just fine."

I find myself atop the building, looking for higher places to climb to get away from this, and a guy comes out on his fire escape, asking me if his father wants him to be there. I ask him where his father is, to which he says, "Oh. Dead."
I say, "It's a beautiful day. Let's see the sun rise", to which he replies, "so then he DOES", and climbs up with me.

And we wait, it seems, for the end of all things.
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Damn. So hard to describe the shit that goes on in the sleep-state. I know I haven't been watching too many scary flicks or anything like that. Perhaps I've been keeping up with the news too much? I DO know I am concerned with the health of family members as of late... and also I've got too much time on my hands.

Damn hands.

Alms for the Freakish? (A.K.A. Project Bilja)

Hallo! I am harmonically good refugee from... oh, let's say somewhere where we're all cute! Indeed, no?
Even with the face hairys! Isn't it?
I am skillfulness with the mouth-harp, which is so nicer than the accordion, as it nicely fits into my pocket.

..Or yours, if I barnacle myself unto you, for you promised me the King of Burgers, no? Because Bilja does not let go of the good deals, and today the good deals are the Whopper, the Fried Potato Fingerlets, and a Shake of The Chocolate Kind!!

...You are saying you don't remember this original agreement for to leave you alone and- how you say- to halt with the song that makes the children run with ears covered, and also to make the animals pee in protest? This is impossible! Like barnacle, I remain a part of you until I am rewarded for my fine harmonicing. Don't wince... Bilja has strong thighs and hands with suction-like action! Almost like Kermit-Frog! Yes! I am strong!

I will sing you songs of life on the Provost canal, where Bilja gave one half of leg for pork-rinds.
And also Bilja gave other rest of leg for bottle of water for to wash down the dried piggy treats.

Trust me, salty canal is no good for the drinking. In end, Bilja misses being almost 2 metres in height, but the riboflavin was much necessary.

So, my friend! Where is this King of which you are saying? We shall seek it together! And while we are seeking this fine place, I will perform for you my post-modernish harmonica piece, which I am happily to call "The Troll I Am That Off Your Back Will Not Happen"!