Colin Nissan

It’s no coincidence I’m a Gemini. The cosmic twins inside me, so restless and impish, craving such disparate adventures, never feel content making omelets at just one place. Living with this duality helps me to understand those struggling with split personalities, although I don’t have the luxury of taking medication like they do because either way I’ll still have jobs at two different omelet places.

“On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me, two turtle doves. Wow, she’s really into the avian theme this year. Um, thank you? I guess I’ll just put them in the kitchen with the partridge and the pear tree, which suddenly seems a lot bigger than it did yesterday.”

“I was resting quite comfortably upon the divan inside the very chamber where I perished a century earlier, when a weary male traveler checked in, placed his valise down and took to ravenously pleasuring himself, two, perhaps two-and-a-half times, before polishing off a red tube of snack crisps and succumbing to immediate slumber. A ghoulish spectacle that inspired me to regurgitate a bit in my dead mouth.”
                                        — The ghost of Ezra Willis, Buxton Inn, Granville, OH

It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers.

The host has not yet arrived, please continue to hold, your conference will begin momentarily. The sound of a beep will signal the host’s arrival. That same beep will act as a Pavlovian trigger catapulting your mind through the succession of terrible decisions that led you to this place, this job, this cubicle, that haircut, those pants.

“I’m like the three-headed dog guarding the gates of Hades, except instead of Hades, it’s Diapers.com, and instead of a dog, I’m a dyslexic computer program with a messed up vocabulary and every goddamned funhouse font in the book.”

“Beware of muses who promise unrealistic timelines for your projects or who wear wizard clothes. When honing in on a promising new muse, also be on the lookout for other writers attempting to swoop in and muse-block you.”

“Dublin moans ‘neath the merciless weight of noontide hunger, a gnawing in the bellies of man, a thirst burning in their barren gullets, while I, alone, must navigate the further indignity of an ill-scheduled 1 PM meeting, looming before me like the trained bow of Artemis.”

“You know what that certificate on the wall means? Not the one that says MAYOR OF LARYNXTOWN, the other one, from the college. It means that I can flush your earwax with one hand tied behind my back. That I can radiate your thyroid with a blindfold on. That I can double-honk your deviated septum before you have time to hop up on the examination table. Don’t fucking test me. You will get double-honked.”

“You’ve made a very wise decision in choosing our all-inclusive resort, a secluded tropical oasis where luxury meets opulence, opulence meets extravagance, extravagance meets excessiveness, excessiveness meets recklessness, recklessness meets madness and madness meets a passing wave of shame.”

“Remember, this isn’t just about reaching into your closets, it’s about reaching into your hearts and finding me something that will go with these new burgundy linen pants, because so far I’m completely striking out. I know what you’re thinking: If I’ve got money for new burgundy linen pants, why can’t I get my own coat? Because I didn’t buy these pants, I acquired them during the Pant Drive I held last month.”

“You’ve probably noticed that I’m not alone on the horse. There’s a female nymph on either side of me. Are we searching for a mossy knoll to enjoy a mythological three-way? I don’t know the answer to that but I imagine it’s a possibility judging by the way they’re looking at me.”

“You want to see what thirty-five minutes of elliptical machine a month can do to a man’s body? You’re about to. You want to cradle me in your capable arms and tell me everything’s going to be okay? That can also be arranged.”