Trapped

The room had soft, off-white padded walls. The floor was bland, with black and white checker tiles in a checkered pattern. It was more obvious than it should have been that this room had been used many times before. Not that the room looked worn, it actually look pristine, a sign that the padding and tiles had been recently replaced. In the corner of the room was a simple cot that no one could think would be comfortable. There were no windows except the one on the door, which was shatterproof. The door was steel and, like the walls, was covered with the same off-white padding on the inside of the room. There was a single flourescent light on the ceiling, surrounded by a wire mesh to keep anybody from shattering the bulb. Every few minutes, the bulb would flicker as if the power was about to go out. The walls weren't as thick as an observer would think they were and anybody unlucky enough to inhabit the cell would be able to hear the mumbles and screams of the occupants in the neighboring rooms.

Uncle Don

My uncle Don is the odd man out on my dad's side of the family. The other four kids turned out fairly normal. But Don went and married Dee. Don decided to move out to Idaho, basically in a cabin away from a lot of people. He raised his kids like dufus too. One of the them became a drug addict while three of the others walk around town trying to start trouble while showing people the pistols they have tucked in their belts. For whatever reason, Don doesn't seem to have a problem with any of this though, and Dee thinks it's actually quite adorable. She laughs and shrugs it off. On top of all this, Don would steal things from my grandparents when he would visit. He would also leave junk all over the house and leave a giant mess for his 70-80ish year old parents to clean up. Who does that?! Apparently, Don.

If every TV in the U.S. was focused on me...

I think I might tell people that there is something fundamentally wrong with society. If there wasn't something wrong, there wouldn't be as many crimes, homeless, or suicides that there are. Granted, some people are still going to be criminals, some people are still going to commit sucide, and some people are still going to end up homeless and on the street. But think about if all the companies and the government weren't always trying to benefit at other people's expense. Most of the time it's always the people with the money or the power that continue to get the money and power. The people who need the help don't get it, and the people who actually try to help them end up doing so at their own expense most of the time. This isn't a bad thing, and I'm not saying that people shouldn't try to help, I'm only saying that the giant corporations and the government big wigs need to do something. There is such a thing as having too much money and there are better things some of these companies could do with their earnings. I know a lot of people work hard for what they have, but it just seems a little strange with the high class people get things like tax cuts and the working class doesn't. Too many people at the top in the governement and in companies make decisions based on what's best for the company, not what's best for the people.

Yesterday story kernel

What's up with people? I mean really, people seem to be such assholes. I was working at the gas station yesterday and I can't believe the attitude some people have when they come in the store. Well, I can believe the attitude... It just sounds more dramatic if I say I can't. On Sunday's we're pretty much shut down for the meat locker part of the station, except for your general meat case stuff they made the day before, like burger, steaks, and what-not. Yesterday was Sunday and this lady comes in and says she's there to pick up her meat. Now, I KNOW that she was told we're closed on Sundays when she was called about it being ready. So I tell her. I say, "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait until tomorrow. None of the meat locker people work Sundays." I say this in my nicest possible voice but, admitidly, I may have sounded pretty damn uncaring, but still. So the lady literally freaks out and starts yelling and snapping at me. "I called here yesterday and THEY said I could come in today and pick up my meat!" I understand that they do sometimes tell people they will set aside the meat order so that we can get it when they're not there but there's no reason for this lady to spaz. All she had to do was calmly tell me about the person yesterday saying it was okay for her to pick the meat up. People just need to chill the hell out.

Music Lyrics Thing

I like the lyrics, "There is a lunatic who lives in the center of your mind. He's eating you and leaving this insanity behind." It's from the Electric Six song Night Vision. I suppose the main reason I like the lyrics is because I like songs where the lyrics don't necessarily make any sense. The lyrics might describe how I am sometimes because I can seem pretty random occassionally. I also think the first sentence of the lyrics has a nice sound to it and I like the word 'lunatic.'

Opposite Character

She was in her late twenties. Her name was Veronica No, and she stood about 5'3" and had almost no meat on her bones, not skeletal, just very thin. Veronica had very long hair, nearly white. That was something very common in her family.

Veronica appeared to be your typical business woman. She always seemed to be dressed like she had some meeting to go to. Her wardrobe consisted of pretty much stuffy business suits and the like.

Miss No of course had an agenda that very few knew about. See, she was a double agent for Russia. She'd currently been working in New York as a customer relations manager for a computer company. No one at her work suspect her of anything, why would they. In fact, most everyone enjoyed her company.

Setting: New York City, winter, present day. Veronica is at a party with some co-workers at a club and it's about midnight. There's an alleyway behind the club with some other agent waiting to talk to her. There is also a team of investigators across from the club watching her for suspicious activity.

Hair Stuff

When I was six or so I had the brilliant idea of getting 'cat scratches shaved on the sides of my head, complete with a big 'J' shaved into the back. Now, I thought this was the coolest thing ever and continued to do this most of the way through elementary school.

A bit later, for pretty much the last part of middle school and high school, my hair was pretty blah. I tried using gel and spiking it every once in a while but generally I was too lazy and just had a generic haircut and didn't try to do anything to it at all. I was your typical non-descript teenage dork.

My first year of college when I was eighteen going on nineteen I thought it would be cool if I let my hair grow out. In all reality though, it was probably because I didn't want to spend the money to get my hair cut. My hair ended up getting to about the length where it covered my eyes. Eventually, I reallized how much of an idiot I looked when my friend took some video of us hanging out.

Now, I'm twenty three. For the better part of the last six months or so I've been dying my hair blue. At points I want to actually want to style it, spike it up or something, but I never seem to get around to it. I think I dye it mostly because I used to always want to but never could because of the jobs I had. Sometimes it get faded out though and my friends call me 'old man Jerry' because it starts to look almost grey in the right light, but being 'old man Jerry' is just the price I have to pay I guess for having awesome hair.

Strange Old Henry Winstock

Henry was a lonely man
A lonely man indeed

He only had his cats
And they only had him

Children told stories
Stories of Henry
Stories not meant to be heard

Deputy Eric should be grateful
Would be grateful
Had his memory not been snatched
On that faithful night

Henry saved Eric from that nasty wreck
The train mangled Eric's car
No one should have survived

But Henry saved Eric
Then made him forget

Caffine and Nicotine

G.F. comes down to the Corner
The Renner Corner Locker
Two or three times a day
Always alone

G.F. never buys the meat
Or the provisions
Just ciggarettes and cappochino
Depositing the goo under his nails

G.F. is always jabbering
Never to anyone though
Only to himself
Constant schizophrenic mumbles

G.F. looks like a Jim
But he's probably not
Scraggly-haired G.F.
He looks more like a "Greasy Fingernails" to me

List for Hidden Poems

Meat locker at work
Customers at work
Desk
Storage room
Drive to Sioux Falls

$100,000

I think I would have to make a movie if I had $100,00. That or try to start up some kind of show or something online. I definately think that if I did the movie though I could make a decent flick considering some of the stuff that gets made and actually sells and manages to turn a profit. Granted, I could probably use it to pay for my schooling and all, but why bother? I'm already getting by with paying for the classes so I might as well use the money to do something fun and possibly make some more money in the process.

Morning Racket (Morning Poem)

Buzzing
Critical and obnoxious
Eating away
at hazy eyes

Annoyed mumbles
Clambering lamps
Hammering away
at foggy mornings

Dead silences
Buttons pressed
Minutes pass
for quiet dreams

Snobbish Desc.

The convertable flew by with its top down and screached to a stop at the light. The woman driving wore large sunglasses and held her noise in the air.

Not finished...

Nerdy Desc.

He stood there, his face scrunched up, wearing large round glasses. The bridge on them was taped together, most likely due to a bully breaking them at school. He possessed a large nose that resembled a toucan's beak and his hair was scruffy like a Wookiee's and obviously unkempt. It didn't appear too much as though he cared what people thought of how he looked. The shirt he wore had several small images on the front: one for each 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, and 20 sided die. Stamped above the images was a phrase that simply stated, "Choose your weapon." He laughed, the kind of laugh you can only expect from a prepubescent nerd of someone like Urkle, and exclaimed, "I'm a level 20 wizard!"

Dance Dance Downstairs

Discord upstairs, dogs and doors.
Just want to doze, but I don't.
Now we Dance Dance downstairs.
He demands the dinning to desist.
The Dance Dance doesn't die.

The Age of Jerry

I think I would choose to be the age I am now(23) if I could choose any age, maybe one or two years older. I think 23-25ish is a pretty good age range because I've already skipped over the younger years where I didn't really know what was going on and was still stuck in my little shell so to speak. On top of that, with the early 20's age, I still have quite a bit of time left to do some of the things I'd like to do. Like actually travel somewhere at some point in my life. Granted right now I'm still taking classes and have a few years left, I don't think I'd want to miss that though. I think the classes are one of the last things keeping me sane at this point.

The only other age I could think of maybe wanting to be is like 200 or something(assuming I could remain in perfect health), just because I think it'd be kind of interesting to say you lived that long of time and all of the things that you would have witnessed over the years.

The Job...

I found my first job near the end of my sophomore year in high school, at the lovely Toys 'R' Us. I worked there for about two and a half years until I moved to Rapid City to attend college. Mostly, I thought the job was the best thing in the world. I thought the other people there were cool and we all had fun doing our jobs. It was all fine and dandy, until I realized how much I hated some of the customers.

Now, hate's a pretty strong word I'll admit, so I'll change that to 'strongly dispise.' Okay, so, most of the customers weren't really all that bad, but every day it seemed you'd get these people in the store that didn't appear to have a clue why they were actually there. And then there's these people that ask you a question about a product and when you tell them all your comprehensive knowledge about said product they just look at you like you have no idea what you're talking about. I really could ramble on about these people for hours, and I know that sounds bad, but you'd think at least some of these people would have more common sense than they do.

So, basically, working at Toys 'R' Us was great but definately not something I could put up with for a 'grown up' job.

My Name

My name is Jeremiah. A lot of people assume I'm named after Jeremiah from the Bible, but this isn't the case. My dad took the name from Jeremiah Johnson, the mountain man. Not many people seem to have heard of him though. I don't mind my name, it's just a little long. My friends in high school started calling me Jerry for short and it just sorta stuck with me. At some point, I was going to be named after the outlaw Jesse James; my dad's into history if you can't telll. This would have been awkward since my last name is Bond and there would probably be more James Bond references when people meet me than there already are with my name starting with a 'J.'

David is my middle name. My mom got that from my dad. I guess I was originally going to be called JD for short, but it just never fit. Because of this though, I have a habit of initially things JD instead of JB for some reason. So anyway, that's my name... Bond, Jerry Bond.