Roman Perth by Shane Jesse Christmass


                Waller Fairley tries to make a go of it in this peculiarly non-epic tale. Poor Waller is poor because he sort of drifts. Everything that occurs appears to be done out of a deep-seeded boredom with things. At work he avoids actual work. Right before he is supposed to leave he leaves early. The milk curdles outside while he sits inside, doing nothing and getting paid for it. In his daydreams he imagines a line of bikinis named after him. Yet nothing he does in reality corresponds to this goal. It is as if he simply wishes things to be that way and through wishing he will achieve all of his goals.

                Inside he knows there is something wrong. The doctor tells him. A plant dies in front of him. Waller expresses outrage at not being prescribed medication. Out of something closely approximating anger he shoplifts. Since he’s an idiot he shoplifts stupid things. Even in his fight for survival, to effectively feed, he is indifferent. The things he steals are terrible and taste terrible. Nothing for him is planned. What deserves his money appears to be drugs and alcohol. While he might be considered a malcontent he isn’t particularly angry at anything in particular. Rather he tries to transpose his hopes of reality onto reality. 

                Only those he communicates on a direct level understand it. A bus driver picks him up and brings in to the library. While waiting in a café he eats sugar cubes. His conversation with the waitress turns bad. The waitress has a vested interest or semi-vested interest in what Waller does. Unlike other people, she’s not hoping to sell him anything, diagnose him with anything, or have him do pointless menial labor. Rather she appears interested in him like a person. Her behavior towards him suggests that she might be trying to understand him or to want to reach out to him. 

                The conversation between the two of them hurts. For a lot of life is simply blankness. That’s part of life. That’s what makes so much of it so wonderful. In those instances where something is happening they are too often ignored. Waller gains an opportunity to make a friend or at least genuinely reach out to someone. Even with his previously mentioned sign making friend, it seems Waller uses that friendship to land a job, a job he does especially poorly. With the waitress he has nothing to gain and neither does she. In a way they are equals. How he leaves then gets into a whole level of sadness, where Waller is doomed to continue listening to radio broadcasts alone, hiding, and doing nothing.

Roman Perth by Shane Jesse Christmass

                Waller Fairley tries to make a go of it in this peculiarly non-epic tale. Poor Waller is poor because he sort of drifts. Everything that occurs appears to be done out of a deep-seeded boredom with things. At work he avoids actual work. Right before he is supposed to leave he leaves early. The milk curdles outside while he sits inside, doing nothing and getting paid for it. In his daydreams he imagines a line of bikinis named after him. Yet nothing he does in reality corresponds to this goal. It is as if he simply wishes things to be that way and through wishing he will achieve all of his goals.

                Inside he knows there is something wrong. The doctor tells him. A plant dies in front of him. Waller expresses outrage at not being prescribed medication. Out of something closely approximating anger he shoplifts. Since he’s an idiot he shoplifts stupid things. Even in his fight for survival, to effectively feed, he is indifferent. The things he steals are terrible and taste terrible. Nothing for him is planned. What deserves his money appears to be drugs and alcohol. While he might be considered a malcontent he isn’t particularly angry at anything in particular. Rather he tries to transpose his hopes of reality onto reality. 

                Only those he communicates on a direct level understand it. A bus driver picks him up and brings in to the library. While waiting in a café he eats sugar cubes. His conversation with the waitress turns bad. The waitress has a vested interest or semi-vested interest in what Waller does. Unlike other people, she’s not hoping to sell him anything, diagnose him with anything, or have him do pointless menial labor. Rather she appears interested in him like a person. Her behavior towards him suggests that she might be trying to understand him or to want to reach out to him. 

                The conversation between the two of them hurts. For a lot of life is simply blankness. That’s part of life. That’s what makes so much of it so wonderful. In those instances where something is happening they are too often ignored. Waller gains an opportunity to make a friend or at least genuinely reach out to someone. Even with his previously mentioned sign making friend, it seems Waller uses that friendship to land a job, a job he does especially poorly. With the waitress he has nothing to gain and neither does she. In a way they are equals. How he leaves then gets into a whole level of sadness, where Waller is doomed to continue listening to radio broadcasts alone, hiding, and doing nothing.

Computational Acid 125 by Shane Jesse Christmass


                Shane says hello to his boss. These are the symptoms anyone experiences from a computer on acid. What is a simple story becomes complex. It is as if the computer keeps tripping itself out, trying to figure out what is meaningful and what is meaningless. Unable to decipher either it simply lays out all the words and asks the reader to ‘figure it out’. Obviously the computer isn’t able to figure out a damned thing. If only the computer remained safe sober and alert. Yet the computer is on the floor foaming at the mouth understanding everything while understanding nothing. 

                Terrorists come in deeper and deeper. Judging by the sheer use of repetition the lines feel urgent. The lines are some sort of whacked out alarm. Papers mention the terrorists coming in again and again. Despite Shane’s boss coming in the boss is unable to prevent anything. Hence it is between Shane and the crazy freedom hating terrorist. Every terrorist hates freedom that’s why they prefer anarchy ridden places where the rule of law is generally disobeyed. Freedom means a structured civilized government according to democracy. 

                Eventually the balance arrives. The boss arrives again. Constantly Shane says hi to his boss. His boss needs to stay there. If the boss leaves a terrorist could come in ruining everything. Pieces begin to balance themselves haphazardly. Symptoms begin to show themselves. Here the computer is trying to figure it all out yet Shane moves a little too quickly for the mere machine. Life moves faster off of the internet for now. That’s why Shane uses the paper. For a long while the computer is on the floor confused. Yes the computer would love to be on a table. If the computer is on the table the terrorists have won.

                Outside the floor waits to come inside. Floors are the fascists of the home. Dividing it into separate sections, honestly the floor controls too much. Every floor needs to mellow on out. Here Shane tries to control the floor, to figure it out.  Shane comes from the outside to come in. The boss is long gone. No boss can control the terrorist. Shane knows this now. What Shane does is use the paper for protection. Shane remembers the pen is mightier than the sword. Perhaps with his paper he can fashion some sort of paper sword, an equivalent to the pen. While it may not work it is the best he can do. 

                Computers on acid have never been recorded in the midst of their trip, at least not until now.

Computational Acid 125 by Shane Jesse Christmass

                Shane says hello to his boss. These are the symptoms anyone experiences from a computer on acid. What is a simple story becomes complex. It is as if the computer keeps tripping itself out, trying to figure out what is meaningful and what is meaningless. Unable to decipher either it simply lays out all the words and asks the reader to ‘figure it out’. Obviously the computer isn’t able to figure out a damned thing. If only the computer remained safe sober and alert. Yet the computer is on the floor foaming at the mouth understanding everything while understanding nothing. 

                Terrorists come in deeper and deeper. Judging by the sheer use of repetition the lines feel urgent. The lines are some sort of whacked out alarm. Papers mention the terrorists coming in again and again. Despite Shane’s boss coming in the boss is unable to prevent anything. Hence it is between Shane and the crazy freedom hating terrorist. Every terrorist hates freedom that’s why they prefer anarchy ridden places where the rule of law is generally disobeyed. Freedom means a structured civilized government according to democracy. 

                Eventually the balance arrives. The boss arrives again. Constantly Shane says hi to his boss. His boss needs to stay there. If the boss leaves a terrorist could come in ruining everything. Pieces begin to balance themselves haphazardly. Symptoms begin to show themselves. Here the computer is trying to figure it all out yet Shane moves a little too quickly for the mere machine. Life moves faster off of the internet for now. That’s why Shane uses the paper. For a long while the computer is on the floor confused. Yes the computer would love to be on a table. If the computer is on the table the terrorists have won.

                Outside the floor waits to come inside. Floors are the fascists of the home. Dividing it into separate sections, honestly the floor controls too much. Every floor needs to mellow on out. Here Shane tries to control the floor, to figure it out.  Shane comes from the outside to come in. The boss is long gone. No boss can control the terrorist. Shane knows this now. What Shane does is use the paper for protection. Shane remembers the pen is mightier than the sword. Perhaps with his paper he can fashion some sort of paper sword, an equivalent to the pen. While it may not work it is the best he can do. 

                Computers on acid have never been recorded in the midst of their trip, at least not until now.



666 Should Become The Sea by Shane Jesse Christmass


                666 should become the sea. Once Greek mythology ended the only logical place for Satan is the sea. Sure there’s the center of the world, the molten lava core. That’s boring. People expect that. What they don’t expect is Satan beneath the waves. Humanity thinks they have conquered the sea. Satan lets humanity think that. Meanwhile Satan is undercurrent waiting and plotting his ascension into Heaven. All that stands between the forces of Satan and Heaven is the Earth. 

                Swordfish are absurd. Yet Satan will need swordfish in order to defeat the guardians of heaven. By helping the little fishes out of hooks and nets the swordfish will pledge their allegiance to the head of the living undead. Myths are beneath the sea, ship-wrecks. These are controlled by Satan. Ship-wrecks are practice throws for Satan. They are the ‘pilots’ for what is to come, to bubble up to the surface. Froth economies exist under the sea. Obviously there needs to be an economy. Satan has introduced drugs to the ocean dwellers and they have to pay for it somehow. 

                Liars and scum-fucks are Satan’s previous roommates. Even by the prince of darkness’s standards his college roommates sucked. Before Satan moved to the sea he lived in a college dormitory studying organic chemistry. Night after night Satan would wake up to the sound of his roommate masturbating. Satan pretended he didn’t hear it. Satan would go back to sleep. What annoyed Satan the most was his roommate used up all Satan’s tissue boxes for this purpose. Hence while Satan hopes to bring everlasting pain and darkness to the Earth, he’ll be a little better than Mike his roommate. 

                Various cuisines exist underwater. These are drug cuisines. YUPPIES know them as ‘Fridays’. Others stay far away. Sea creatures need these powerful substances. Every drug brings a shark closer to his lunch. Habit-forming vices are important for animals that constantly need to be moving. With cocaine the shark is assured they will live a long and prosperous life of eating small children, crummy sea creatures and other scum. 

                Toilet lines form in the underwater kingdom. Satan changes the sea from a ‘Little Mermaid’ to a ‘Studio 54’ template. Yes Satan loves glamour. Gaudiness of the sea is a big draw for Satan and his underwater fiends. Every hell fiend longs to get transferred out of hell to the sea assignment. Promotions decide who will get the corner sea office, to see further than any man has or any man will. There’s a whole other world down there off limits to the boring surface dwellers. 

                By the end it is obvious hell has won over this dark place. Satan reigns supreme from under the sea, singing with crustaceans and stuff. Satan’s pretty big into Disney so it is an apt place. Shane Jesse Christmass’s piece overwhelms with horrific detail after horrific detail. Stay out of the water. Hang out on the beach instead.

666 Should Become The Sea by Shane Jesse Christmass

                666 should become the sea. Once Greek mythology ended the only logical place for Satan is the sea. Sure there’s the center of the world, the molten lava core. That’s boring. People expect that. What they don’t expect is Satan beneath the waves. Humanity thinks they have conquered the sea. Satan lets humanity think that. Meanwhile Satan is undercurrent waiting and plotting his ascension into Heaven. All that stands between the forces of Satan and Heaven is the Earth. 

                Swordfish are absurd. Yet Satan will need swordfish in order to defeat the guardians of heaven. By helping the little fishes out of hooks and nets the swordfish will pledge their allegiance to the head of the living undead. Myths are beneath the sea, ship-wrecks. These are controlled by Satan. Ship-wrecks are practice throws for Satan. They are the ‘pilots’ for what is to come, to bubble up to the surface. Froth economies exist under the sea. Obviously there needs to be an economy. Satan has introduced drugs to the ocean dwellers and they have to pay for it somehow. 

                Liars and scum-fucks are Satan’s previous roommates. Even by the prince of darkness’s standards his college roommates sucked. Before Satan moved to the sea he lived in a college dormitory studying organic chemistry. Night after night Satan would wake up to the sound of his roommate masturbating. Satan pretended he didn’t hear it. Satan would go back to sleep. What annoyed Satan the most was his roommate used up all Satan’s tissue boxes for this purpose. Hence while Satan hopes to bring everlasting pain and darkness to the Earth, he’ll be a little better than Mike his roommate. 

                Various cuisines exist underwater. These are drug cuisines. YUPPIES know them as ‘Fridays’. Others stay far away. Sea creatures need these powerful substances. Every drug brings a shark closer to his lunch. Habit-forming vices are important for animals that constantly need to be moving. With cocaine the shark is assured they will live a long and prosperous life of eating small children, crummy sea creatures and other scum. 

                Toilet lines form in the underwater kingdom. Satan changes the sea from a ‘Little Mermaid’ to a ‘Studio 54’ template. Yes Satan loves glamour. Gaudiness of the sea is a big draw for Satan and his underwater fiends. Every hell fiend longs to get transferred out of hell to the sea assignment. Promotions decide who will get the corner sea office, to see further than any man has or any man will. There’s a whole other world down there off limits to the boring surface dwellers. 

                By the end it is obvious hell has won over this dark place. Satan reigns supreme from under the sea, singing with crustaceans and stuff. Satan’s pretty big into Disney so it is an apt place. Shane Jesse Christmass’s piece overwhelms with horrific detail after horrific detail. Stay out of the water. Hang out on the beach instead.