you think i'm weird now? check this out (three)

an excerpt from the notebooks of andrew and hakeem
somewhere around paragraphs 3-4 of page 33
i wrote this ca. 1995


Finally, with a snarl of determination, the chicken flung himself to his feet, only to slip in the bothersome gravy and land flat on his back.

'chirrrrp...chirrrp....' he sounded the ancient call dating back to the days of the roman anarchy [?] (chirp was the universal display of anger for chickens everywhere in the days of old, it became a requirement after augustus caesar was shot in the head with a stray bullet from a small handheld musket [?]) and then righted himself. what he saw before him was what seemed to be a much older, dirtier, and less healthy rendition of bruce lee but with eyes sealed shut.

the old man felt, rather than saw, a spark of intelligence kindle in the beast. again he introduced himself, 'i am bruce lee and you are a chicken named goliath. this is my humble abode. would you like something to eat and some clothes?' the beast nodded. the old man did a triple-axle mid-air somersault and a roundhouse-flip-kick and was back in a flash. the man offerred the chicken a small head of cabbage dipped in gravy, a package of instant hormell chili capsules, and a gravy-coated robin suit.

'cooo...cooooo...' came the chicken's icy response....

[to be continued...and i apologize for the nonsensical parenthetical comments. i was in junior high, give me a break...]


andrew david 'why can't the dudes on the dock move a bit to the south and enjoy the sunset?' puerto vallarta, mexico.

you think i'm weird now? check this out (two)

an excerpt from the notebooks of andrew and hakeem
somewhere around page 33
paragraph 2
written by andrew
ca. 1995

"So you have come to the land of the living, my dear friend?" came the slow halting prattle of the old man. After waiting for three minutes and getting no response from the chicken (who lay engulfed in gravy) the old man correctly assumed that the gravy had dulled the chicken's senses or that he was just real dumb (in both cases he was right).

"I pulled your corpse out of the bushes near the post office. You see, I thought you twould make a decent meal, when I realized you were still living. Though trained in the martial arts, I could never kill a fellow human being, let alone a chicken. What is your name?"

Again no response; the chicken hadn't yet noticed the man. He was trying his hardest to think of a way out of the gravy but to no avail.

"Well, young bird, I shall call you Big Bird....no, no....I respected Big Bird until he retired, but he became a [strange indecipherable insult] and went around eating people for sport....no, I shall call you Goliath. Goliath, I am Bruce Lee...."



andrew david "american girls and a young boy they never met" mismaloya, mexico.

you think i'm weird now? check this out.

an excerpt from the notebooks of andrew and hakeem
somewhere around page 33
paragraph 1
written by andrew
ca. 1995

When he awoke, the chicken was dazed and confused. He lay face-down in a large pile of gravy. Although he (or she) was so disconcerted that he couldn't remember his name, he knew for a fact that he did NOT like gravy. In fact, he could even recall the time when he was a young chick and a farmer had fed him gravy 'cause he needed to be a "nice chunky chicken so we all' can have leftovers after Thanksgiving and for the days ta' come" and when at the first bite he had spewed all over the nearest cow (it actually was a piece of cardboard painted as a cow; the farmer sold tickets to come and see the "talkin', three legged, cow wit' a tattoo of a naked farmer on his purty' little rump," and the cow didn't really talk, the farmer hid his wife behind it, and she answered the curious sight-see-ers questions). He could tell the gravy was old by its milky texture and its aroma of poached trout. After all the miserable years he spent on that farm eating that appalling gravy (what could he do? the farmer had held a knife to his neck. and once the chicken had exceecded the farmer's height, the farmer had pointed a shotgun at his belly. besides, the nastiness was only temporary; he, the chicken, had always regurgitated it soon afterward on some unsuspecting victim, usually the farmer's wife) the chicken had become, unwillingly, a connoisseur of gravy. He could tell with ease that this gravy was past its expiration date, probably homemade, and laced with heroin.

Though he had instantly come to this conclusion, which would have taken experts weeks to discover, his mind was still working slow (some would say his mind was always slow). In fact it took him five minutes to decide to try to get his face out of the disgusting stuff and another five to decide how. When he finally raised his head, now wrinkled due to a long period of exposure to the gravy, he found himself in a dumpster.

The dumpster was basically empty except for the four inch thick layer of gravy he was laying in and a few cabbage heads here and there. In one corner of the cavernous dumpster came a dim light which was partially blocked by the back of what appeared to be an old man. The seven and a half foot chicken tried to right himself but it seemed the gravy had weakened his monumental strength.

At the sudden move, the figure did a 2,700 degree turn (about seven 360s and a 180) in the air and came to face the chicken....




andrew david 'six pictures of a sunset' puerto vallarta, mexico.
these pictures might have had a chance if i had a tripod. in the first picture, i was hoping for a spectactular reflection in the sand. oh, well. otherwise, they're typical sunset photos. i can't even think of a photoshop technique to salvage them.