I've fulfilled my life-long dream today. As an admirer of the comic duo of magicians, Penn and Teller, I've always wondered what Teller, the silent one, sounded like.

Now I know. There is an interesting debate going on in the magical community (real fake magic, not the fake fake magic) about a museum revealing how Harry Houdini accomplished one of his tricks.

Teller has a bit to say about it.

He does not disappoint.

* * * * *

I have as yet been unable to reconcile my nocturnal habits with my 9-5 work schedule.

Today's lunch break found me snuggled happily in car, my snores providing back-up for the dull roar of the industrial-sized air conditioning unit.

Work was work. I admire the foresight of the higher-ups. They only require business-casual work clothing so that I can't hang myself with my tie. Of course, there's always my belt.

There was more fun mail, though. Someone's attorney wrote "As he left the bar, the plaintiff was struck in the face with an unknown object and momentarily lost conciseness," instead of "consciousness".

I could picture it...



[In the bar]

Friend: "Hey man, where are you heading off to?"

Plaintiff: "Out."

Friend: "What are you going outside for?"

Plaintiff: "Air."

Friend: "Do you want me to come with you?"

Plaintiff: "No."

Friend: "Oh, okay man."

[Plaintiff steps outside of bar. Assailant...assails him.]

[WHACK!]

Plaintiff: "Having just been struck in my facial area with an as-of-yet unidentified object, I find myself experiencing intense pain with accompanying visual phenomena, i.e., bright flashes of color, stars, and the like as my brain waves alter from beta to delta, bringing with it a disconcerting darkness."

[Plaintiff then passes out.]

* * * * *

I'm thinking of mailing stuff back to the various attorneys. Just little notes, like "Help, I'm being held prisoner in a mail room!"

See what happens.

Before I quit, I will.

I can just imagine some other poor bastard in a mail room across the country opening that letter. Then he'll tear it up, saying, "No way, if I can't escape, neither can this guy."

Some people just don't know how to be team players.

* * * * *

Chris H. and I were talking the other night. He said that he is audio-visual. Well, he didn't say audio-visual, he said some other word that escapes me at the moment. But I think audio-visual works just fine, because pretty much he sees sounds as colors.

I found it very interesting. I also felt cheated, since I only see static.

I've tried to explain it to some of my other friends before, with mixed success. I'm sure most people have seen when the television is on and there is nothing but black and white pixels dancing on the screen.

I see that all the time. Other images, such as the keyboard, and the computer screen I'm looking at right now are overlaid on this static background. I guess it's like projecting a movie onto a stucco wall. I can see just fine. The static is always there, though, even when I close my eyes.

I don't think I'm the only one who sees this way. I think a lot of people are probably used to it. Sight is sort of weird anyway.

Because from what I understand, we're not really seeing anything, in a way. Our eyes pick up different strengths and frequencies of light and then our brains decode that information to construct an image.

If you were to be blindfolded and then try to walk around while someone else shouts out where everything is, it would amount to much the same thing, wouldn't it?

I guess I'm saying that I always try to be aware that when I see something, it is still because of something that is telling me I'm seeing. This is a useful frame of mind for me because I have vivid hallucinations as I'm just waking up.

Heh, when I was living with Phill we shared a one-bedroom apartment. I woke up one night, look around for the clock to figure out what time it is, and I see Phill sleeping in his bed a few feet away. Phill had a large, striped comforter, and he was wrapped up in it with only his head and one arm sticking out.

But I didn't see a striped blanket. I saw Phill sleeping peacefully under a pile of legs. Human legs. Not bloody or anything, more like large doll's legs.

I stared for a few seconds. The image didn't change. I buried my face in my pillow and huddled under my own covers. "That's not real," I said into my pillow. I fell back asleep.

That wasn't uncommon. It still happens a few nights a week. I see ghost cats a lot. Dark figures crouched in the corners are also popular.

Fun stuff.

Stuff like that reminds me of when I was very little; afraid to traverse the dark hallway in the middle of the night to reach the bathroom because I was afraid of monsters. Then, I would pretend that I was a monster, too, and creep stealthily to my porcelain lair. No other monsters dared bother me, because I was much fiercer and scarier than any of them.

* * * *

I had better get some sleep. I'm going to audition for a play tomorrow. Macbeth. My old acting teacher has a theatre company, The Bright Angel Players, and she had asked me to audition at the end of last semester.

Even if I do get cast, (in a minor role, no doubt; I've never performed Shakespeare) I doubt I'll have the time. But hey, it's been four years since I've been in a play. I wonder what it would be like now.

I wonder if I'll just horribly embarrass myself?

Ha, well, there's only one way to find out.

*I must be out of it, I actually had to use the spell-checker. You win this round, grammar crutch.