I Are Scientist

If you still haven't listened to any We Are Scientists yet, you are dead to me. End communication!

Scene One (ver. 0.1)

"Whereupon the Hero is introduced" would have been the subtitle of this scene, if I believed in using subtitles. Needless to say, consider him introduced. His name is unimportant, and truth be told his name is unkown. I know of him only because he lives in the apartment at the end of the hall that my brother's ex-roomate lives on. From what we can tell, he lives alone, but I've heard neighbors complain about a lot of foot traffic at odd hours in the night. During the day he works for a local repair shoppe, Midwest County Collision. He sometimes spends his weekends out of town, I heard he has family in California. At night he probably sleeps, but you never know for sure. He could deal drugs to the local hippies and college students, or he could run a gangland operation marketing cheap diamonds obtained by knocking over wedding ring stores. But probably he sleeps.
This leaves you, the reader, with a lot of missing details about our hero. But before you question what right I have to tell this story, before you call me a fool or a liar, know that I met him once. My mobile's electric supply had been known to spark during refueling, causing fatal explosions in several cases. So I was walking into Midwest County Collision to get an estimate on the replacement costs, along with my buddy, Ian. Ian had the same make and model mobile as I. As I opened the stained-glass front door for Ian, an athletic, but pale, man exited via my hospitality. His crew-cut hair and ridigly square sunglasses clashed with the cheesy violet jumpsuit he was wearing. Normally I would not have taken note, but immediately I recognized The Hero as he nodded to me and lit a cigarette. Ian pulled a cig out for himself and told me to go on in; he'd catch up when he finished. So I went on in to the nicely controlled atmosphere of the shoppe and let the door close behind me. Thus ends the encounter. Needless to say, that is all you really need to know about The Hero for now, because this story really isn't about him. And no, it's not about me, either. The events I'm about to relate to you center around Ian, though a hero he is not.

Alright, Poem Time:

The Dope
I wait for a train
that runs on time.
It feeds the pain
that builds inside.

I need something
to be my guide.
Just tie this rope,
so I stop and choke.

It's that fucker, Hope,
that causes my dismay.
I wish he'd stop parading
on my rainy fucking day.

-by Pirate Jimmy


I actually wrote this in January of this year, but decided to wait until now to post it. I'm really proud of the rhyme scheme, which a 3-line pattern, different from the 4-line flow of the poem. Hopefully it gives you, the reader, an uneasy feeling, and makes it seem something is out of alignment somehow; it should make you uncomfortable. And mostly I'm proud of the last 4 lines, how they play on the phrase "stop trying to rain on my parade."

Wit and Vigor

I just thought the title of this post would be a cool title. Possibly a book title, the title of a society intent on ensuring humanity does not succumb to "virtual-reality narcissism", or maybe just the title of a piratevilletown post. Either way, it's a cool word combination.