The goal of this “Shorts” page is to showcase anything written under 750 words. Some are funny, some are serious, some are both and some just sucks, but sucks in the kind of way that you’ll like.

8/24/2011
There is no point in asking if I am happy. If I am happy now and you ask me if I am, you have just brought awareness to my happiness, which means I’m aware that it is ephemeral and I wonder when its death will be. So, don’t ask me if I’m happy. If you want to be a friend, just take notice when I’m not.

Sometimes, when alone, I am even too much company for myself.

What’s scarier than mediocrity?

The goal is truth, not self-comfort.

If there is one thing we need, it’s that we must be more aggressive in our thinking.

‘I haven’t really thought about it’ is an all too much too common response.

Part of being human is wanting to know you mean something to someone.

If there is anything sacred in this world, none of us have ever seen or touched it.

If you never have a moment where you look around the room and think, “Everyone here is full of shit,” then you’re full of shit.

If you’re not going to bring it all to the table, don’t even bother picking it up.

6/13/2011
Every man’s wish, if he is a man, is to be Dirty Harry.

I think when you become a writer you involuntarily take a vow of poverty.

If there is anything sacred in this world, none of us have ever seen or touched it.

I can provide a sound argument for why Plato would hate Linkin Park.

5/14/2011
Want to prevent someone from breaking into your house? Forget the ADT sticker. Fly a black metal flag outside your front door.

5/12/2011
People fucking irritate me. If you’re a person, stop doing that.

5/7/2011
If you never have a moment where you look around the room and think, “Everyone here is full of shit,” then you’re full of shit.

4/30/2011
I don’t understand people who complain they don’t have a lot of friends. I know a lot of people; a ton, but I don’t have a lot of friends and I don’t complain about not having a lot of friends. I just find shit to do during the times I’m not sitting around talking about useless, menial, trivial gossip.

4/21/2011
Do you ever look at someone and think, “That person masturbates a lot?”

4/1/2011
If my IQ was as low as yours, I wouldn’t even leave the house.

Use them to build forts and ships
3/26/2011
Today I killed two cockroaches; both large enough to put on suits and apply for jobs as ordinary US citizens.

Humans Have a Misplaced Hierarchy
3/19/2011
If you think this a beautiful world
And everyone is nice, altruistic and holding good intentions
Get your head out of your ass
Step outside your tiny circle of friendship, false comfort and fear
And realize that people are no better than the other animals
Killing, shitting and trying to survive

Putting It In Perspective
3/19/2011
John Keats died when he was 25
In Italy for a more climatically friendly atmosphere for his tuberculosis
Critics say that at the point he was at
He was greater than Shakespeare, Chaucer and Milton
When they were at the same age
At 28, I have nothing to claim except
One published book
Followed by a strain of mediocrity

1/19/2011
There’s no good nights rest
With a broken heart in your chest

1/19/2011
Love is closer to hate than it is to love
Liking another human being is easy,
but love and hate are so strong
They’re almost mutual

Strangers
1/3/2011

There are strangers I know amazingly well
Strangers I’ve had coffee, drinks, conversations and sex with
Strangers that I no longer care about
Whatever good happens, or
Bad happens
I don’t care
Because they’re strangers now

12/31/2010

Counting your fingers
Making sure this Haiku is
The correct format

12/31/2010

Yes ice is priceless
When the freezer is ice-less
Cold drinks are things missed

(I just caught you counting your fingers)

12/29/2010
One question I will never have to ask someone is, “How was the funeral?”

I Hate Poetry
12/29/2010
As suggested by the title of this “poem,” I don’t particularly care for poetry and I hope this may explain why.

The babbling brook’s water washed over broken rocks
As the cool water worked its way downstream
Gliding geese flew south for winter in flocks
The shining sun broke through breaks in clouds to showcase its glimmering gleam
Upon the water that unfroze, cracks in ice like broken locks
The doe appeared gently, silently like a good night’s dream
Doe’s fawn approached cautiously behind so her mother she could mock
Unbeknownst to the tranquil team
Through the air traveled an arrow precise enough to slice cream (what?)
Violently, the arrow pierced the fawn’s stomach spewing blood, guts and viscera like a violent dream
Upon the cold, barren winter earth
The doe sprinted off in hopes of saving her own life despite the death of that of which she gave birth
The fat hunter laughed, picking up the carcass and already rotting corpse
Dragging it through the woods, wearing Wal-Mart camo, walking with brute force
A trail of blood, guts, viscera, intestinal fluid and other gross words to describe the insides of a dead animal left behind for the doe to follow

I’ve Felt Just Like You
12/29/2010

That emptiness you feel in your life? I felt it too. I carried that nothingness with me everywhere I went. It went to sleep with me at night, just as drunk as I was, then woke up with me and had breakfast with me. We were best friends. We did everything together, but our relationship was unhealthy. The emptiness was parasitic; it corrupted me.

Advertising and religion teach you that you have a hole inside you that needs to be filled (zing!), and of course, their product, their teaching is the one that can do it.

“Do you feel that emptiness? We have a product that will relieve it. Do you feel alone? We have a God who is right beside you, so you aren’t alone.”

It was hard to abandon the emptiness, the aloneness because I knew no product, no human, no god was there to do it for me. I felt too smart to fool myself into accepting any of that, but still felt like a fool because I couldn’t rid myself of it. The parasite was in me, chewing away on my organs, eating away at my hopes, taking away my life and I couldn’t do anything about it.

That is, until I realized I knew it wasn’t forever. I saw that emptiness as an opportunity. That emptiness was something to fill and once I filled it, it didn’t exist anymore. It was my responsibility to fill it with myself and not to expect any product, human or religion to do it for me. I filled it with ambition.

I still feel the emptiness, but now our relationship is much healthier. We went to counseling and now we mutually respect each other. I still carry it with me and hopefully you will too. I formed a strong, unbreakable bond with it and now I don’t want to let it go. I know the aloneness is what I need to go far. I see the emptiness as an opportunity, not a loss or absence of anything.

The Pool in St. Lucia
12/28/2010

When I was ten years old, I was in a swimming pool in St. Lucia. I was wading in the pool, close to the deep end when I looked to my left and another kid, about my age, pedaled his hands along the wall until he reached me. He was chubby, pale and had short hair. He asked me if I “had to poop.”

“No,” I told him.

“Neither do I,” he said to me, looking me in my eyes.

We were ten years old. The awkwardness that overcame me was greater than the volume of the pool water. I swam away, deeper into the deep end.

Don’t Get Cocky Just Because You Have No Feet
12/28/2010

A cute quote is:

“I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.”

This is cute, but tell it to a homeless person with no shoes in the winter and see what he or she has to say. I can only imagine considering my feet are cold with holey socks on inside my house.

Comparing a person’s bad situation to someone else’s even worse situation does not discount and disqualify the initial person’s bad situation.

My Name is Alexander Priceworthy
10/??/2010

My name is Alexander Priceworthy.

I am a model of perfection. I am in prime physical condition. I am astoundingly intelligent, astutely precise in all of my decisions and choices, large and small. I have no flaws.

The Paradox of Omnipotence states that God could not create something that he subsequently could not control. Take for example a rock that God creates that is so heavy that even he cannot lift it. He wouldn’t be omnipotent if he could not lift that rock, right? I am that rock.

I do not know what imperfection is until I see it in other people.

When people see me, a wave of envy overtakes them – actually, it is more like a tsunami of bitter envy that collapses over them and quickly consumes them.

When I meet people, I immediately present them with a verbal resume of my numerous qualifications, accomplishments, awards and experience. People need to know who I am. People need to know what I have done. People know I am an achiever and have done many great things that they have never done and will never do. When people who earn less money than me speak to me, I don’t look them in the eyes. I look far off in the distance, pretending to hear what they say. If I make eye contact with them, they will get the impression that we are on the same level and I would not want them to make that misjudgment.

When I look in the mirror I know there is a God and that God was created in my image. My smooth black hair, my blue eyes, my chiseled chest and the many valleys created by my abs are testament to my perfection.

“Alexander,” I say to myself, “you are fucking good looking. Why aren’t you married by now?”

Then I laugh and remind myself, “Because you can fuck anything you want!”

You may scoff at this, but I only laugh at jokes from people in positions of authority or women I want to fuck. Usually, their jokes are pretty bad, but if you want to advance in the world, professionally or sexually, you need to kiss a little ass. That’s just the way the world works. You have to take one for the team and I am the whole team. Friendships are merely easily broken contracts that exist for the sole purpose of personal advancement. It’s really nothing to scoff at though. I will not apologize for it. If you do not agree, you just don’t understand the truth in the world.

People say I am a braggart and full of myself, and while that is true, I tell them that modesty is for people who have nothing to brag about.

My bleached white teeth set an impressive contrast compared to my tan skin. My dark, straight hair is neatly parted, smooth and well-defined. My laugh is boisterous and proud, confident and confirming. Because of my busy schedule, I only get to the gym four days a week. In order to supplement my workout, I take steroids that I illegally purchase from some asshole at the gym. I have pec, calf and buttock implants. Tuesday afternoons I get my nails done.

Today, I fucked a married woman in her home while her husband was working. She was telling me beforehand that she was unhappy in her marriage and her husband did not treat her well. I knew that was a lie and she just wanted what I had, but what do I care? Any woman I could choose to be my wife would treat me like a king and I would still find a reason to have to be at the office late. Human beings have needs. The idea of monogamy is a comforting idea that little girls like to dream up. That is not reality.

When I was done I left.

“Alexander,” she said, laying on the bed underneath the 750 thread count sheets. Her doughy eyes looked deeply into mine (she looked so innocent and naïve) “What does this all mean?”

“What does all what mean,” I asked her, knowing full well what she meant.

“Us – what do we mean?”

“What do you want to leave your husband for me?”

“Well, I’m in love with you.”

This was the first time she ever told me such a thing. I was repulsed. I almost thought it was cute that way she was looking up at me, wearing her tight shorts and spaghetti-strapped tank top, her voluminous yet not fat ass expressing the tightness of her shorts and her perky, round breasts fully outlined in the tightness of her shirt. But when she told me she was in love with me, I lost all respect for her. She was no longer attractive. I had been fucking her for a close to a month now, much longer than I fuck most women, but that phrase was a surefire way to end it.

Love is a word used to for advancement. The emotion is not there. It is not real. It is not tangible. The phrase “I love you” is as binding as a handshake on Wall Street. She did not know what she was talking about.

I kissed her on the cheek and walked out.

I feel nothing. I have no emotion. People are a means to an end. If you think that people must also use me, you are right, but I let people use me only while I am using them in the process.

I am Alexander Priceworthy. I always win. Why are you still here?