Thursday, February 23, 2006

Big Time Score

So I fuh-reaking SCORED big time with this latest gift that I hooked the Ash up with:

It was supposed to be a Valentine's day gift, but it showed up a week later than promised by the good robots at It made Ash happy as all getout, but now I've got "Heaven Isn't Too Far Away" and "Don't Know What You've Got Til It's Gone" (among others) stuck in my head, which I believe is the 3rd circle of my own personal hell. And you know something else? The chorus of the two aforementioned songs? SAME GODDAMN MELODY. There was one person writing ALL this shit, just pumping it out like so much sewage into so many endangered wetlands poisoning so much of the potable water supply resulting in just so much cancer.

I've already instructed Henry that he is not to like or enjoy any of these songs. Except maybe "Silent Lucidity." And that's a maybe.

Friday, February 17, 2006

The Acceptance Of A Very Minor Dare

by T. Amon Holmes
Nighttime. The Holmes and The Ash sit on the couch watching TV. The Holmes holds The Baby Henry.
THE ASH: Are you as excited about Brangelina as I am?
THE ASH: I dare you to ask that to people at work tomorrow.
The sun comes up. The Ash and The Baby Henry immediately go to sleep. The Holmes rises and enters an elevator, followed by several coworkers. The doors close and the group rides up in silence. Silence. Beautiful delicious virginal silence.
THE HOLMES: So are you guys as excited about Brangelina as I am?
Coworkers display everything from curiosity to surprise to horror. The elevator reaches its floor and the doors open. Everybody out. Whispers of "what did he say?" and "what's Brangelina" can be heard.
the end

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Tha Quail Killa

by T. A. Holmes
Two old men in hunting outfits stand behind a hedge, which faces towards a grassy green area. Happy music plays. One after another, a series of birds walk out onto the grassy area, and the men take turns blasting them with their big veiny shotguns. Each bird is as clueless as the one before it, each one going forth into the bright light of his or her birdshot filled fate with the blank stare of a Moonie. The pile of dead birds grows and grows.
After a short while, the space between birds begins to lengthen until ultimately no more birds are coming out. Which is not surprising, considering the massive pile of bird corpses now littering the stage. Some poor bastard is going to have to clean all that up after the show, and I sure as shit know it ain't gonna be me. But I digress. The happy music continues merrily along.

A bird limps in. The hunters blast it. More limping birds follow. More hobble in on crutches, followed by others in wheelchairs, and still more on crutches with missing legs. Some birds wear eyepatches, head bandages, or hooks where wings once flapped. One with no legs and one wing wheels himself in on a plank of wood with casters attached. Each of these is blasted in turn.

A crowd of little baby birds enter, full of energy and life, but not for long.

Several dozen eggs roll onstage. All are blasted to shit, splattering their yolks all over the heaping pile of lifeless feathery carcasses.

The happy music plays on. No more birds enter.

The hunters fire some crazy number of rounds into the pile of dead birds, but no more live targets appear.

The happy song ends.

HUNTER 1: Well, guess that's that.

HUNTER 2: Guess so.

HUNTER 1: Sure was fun.

HUNTER 2: Yep.

They fire a few more absent rounds into the dead bird pile.

HUNTER 1: Yep.

HUNTER 2: Yep. Well, guess let's head on back. I got a Vietnamese whore with my name on her waiting for me.

HUNTER1: It's just that...

HUNTER 2: You coming?

HUNTER 1: I just get so goddamned bored sometimes.

HUNTER 2: Bored? You're the most powerful goddamn man on the planet. You can do anything you want and can't nobody do shit to you!


HUNTER 2: So you coming?

Hunter 1 shoots Hunter 2 in the face. Hunter 2 falls down unconscious.

A voice comes on over the intercom.

VOICE: Sir, we've located some more birds if you'd like to continue shooting.

HUNTER 1: That sounds great.

The happy music starts again. More birds enter. Hunter 1 blasts each one in turn with a newfound sense of glee.

the end

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Carvings of Tenderness

I recently had to get a new wedding ring. No, I didn't lose my old one. Ya see, as of this writing, your friendly neighborhood Holmes is significantly lighter than he was when he and the Ash got married. And apparently, some of that weight came right out of me fingas. I woke up one morning and found that I could dial a phone without the aid of my specially crafted dialing wand, which was great, but I also found that my fingers were too small to keep my wedding ring captive any longer. And resizing was out because it had this design on it that jewelers weren't willing to fuck with.

So now I've got this nifty new ring that the Ash picked out for me. It's much simpler in design, but I'm finding that I like it better than the old one. Maybe it's just the fact that it fits, and I can suddenly point at things without fear of my ring flying off in the direction of my finger.

Ash happened to mention in passing that the jeweler offered to engrave it for her, but she didn't go for it because she couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't outrageously corny. I think pretty much anything sounds outrageously corny when it's carved into a hard substance like metal or marble. Corny or else really profound. Perhaps both. Anyway, what follows here is my dramatic textual interpretation of exactly how the transaction would have gone down had Ash gone on and had them do the engraving.

Until The End of Eternity, Which is by Definition Eternal and Therefore Neverending, So Forever

by T. Amon Holmes

A jewelry store. Paula, a 40-something lady who favors silver and turquoise, is wrapping up the sale of a man's matrimonial band to Ash.

PAULA: And would you like to get it engraved?

ASHLEY: Engraved you say?

PAULA: That's where they cut letters into the ring to spell out a special message of love and sweetness.

ASHLEY: Is that what it is?

PAULA: Uh-huh. A special message for all eternity. And it's free.

ASHLEY: Free engraving?

PAULA: Done while you wait.

ASHLEY: Free engraving done while I wait. Quite an establishment you're running here Paula.

PAULA: So you'll do it?

ASHLEY: Sure. Why not?

PAULA: Wonderful! Here, write down on this card what you would like it to say. Be sure to check your spelling.

Ash commences to writing, taking her time, periodically stopping to think, scratch something out, then write some more. Paula goes about rearranging the odd animal statues on the shelves into pleasing scenes, imagining to herself the conversations to be had between the young beagle and the bald eagle or the fox and the buffalo.

ASHLEY: Can I have another one?

PAULA: Another what?


PAULA: What's wrong with that one?

ASHLEY: I wrote all over it.

PAULA: Well, I'm not really supposed to do this, but....okay. (makes sure nobody is looking and slips Ashley another card) But that's the last one. No more after that.


PAULA: Don't write anything down until you're sure what you want to say.


Paula goes back to arranging her animals. Ash thinks for a moment, then begins writing, not stopping or scratching anything out, writing continuously for a long time until she's done. She inspects her work, quite pleased.

ASHLEY: Allrighty Miss Paula. Here you go.

PAULA: Well let's see here. (Takes the card and reads. Shows surprise, then shock, then becomes aghast). Oh dear me. Oh dear ooooohhh dear.

ASHLEY: Are you okay?

PAULA: Oh dear. Ooooh dear me, no. No no no. We can't, oh no. We can't do this.

ASHLEY: What's the matter?

PAULA: (Pulls herself together) Mrs. Holmes, I'm afraid that we simply cannot engrave this particular message in its current form onto your husband's ring. (Hands card back to Ashley).

ASHLEY: Why not?

PAULA: Well it, uh, clearly there are certain, uh...

ASHLEY: What's the problem?

PAULA: Surely I don't have to spell it out for you?

ASHLEY: (looks at her card again) I don't get it. This is what I want engraved on my husband's ring.

PAULA: Well, you can't.

ASHLEY: Why not?

PAULA: Why do you think?

ASHLEY: I don't know! You won't tell me!

PAULA: Well it's pretty obvious, don't you think?

ASHLEY: (reads her card out loud) "From the dawn of existence until the end of eternity, in this life and beyond, whither we meet at the gates of Heaven or in the black fires of Hell, thou art mine always, from the core of thine soul to the tip of thine cock." So?

PAULA: (Increasingly upset) So?

ASHLEY: So? What's the goddamn problem?

PAULA: I have to tell you?


PAULA: It's too long!


ASHLEY: Oh. Okay. Well how about just "Your cock is mine?"

PAULA: Perfect!

the end

Friday, February 03, 2006

Another one of these meme thingies

Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

for those of you who are on here, don't feel any pressure to do it, do it only if you feel like it. You're only getting picked because you have blogs. and I'm curious about you.

1. Shelly
2. Zydeco Fish
3. KTS
4. Julie
5. Travis

Then you get to select five people to pass the love on to so they can do this meme, like so:

(well damn, it becomes abundantly clear that I don't know enough people with blogs who also check mine, but here's a try)
1. Bill
2. Le
3. Erin
4. The Yellowtape Construction dude
5. Shannon from No Shame

What were you doing 10 years ago?
February of 96 saw the young Holmes in his third year at the University of Texas. I had just turned 20 and was pursuing a degree in theater, albeit somewhat aimlessly with little in the way of a goal in mind. I only knew, or felt rather, that theater was the only subject that would keep me motivated to go to classes. I think it was around this time that I started thinking that I might want to write plays. Perhaps if I had it to do over again, with the knowledge that I have now, I would have gone after somethign different, but maybe not. Maybe I would have been less aimless about my studies. Also, I was still a virgin and pissed off about it.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
One year ago, my most recent play, "I Am Alpha" was getting ready to hit the stage at Arts on Real. I was doing sound design for it, which I had never done before, but really wanted to learn…and I think I did a mighty fine job, thanks to my friend Jonathan and his kickass home studio, the makers of SoundForge, and all the free .wav files available out there. Though it came off great, Alpha was plagued by a variety of technical issues that we were working through during the entire run of the show, most of which centered around an inconsistently behaving light board that our brave board op Anna fought valiantly to tame. It was also during the run of Alpha that me and the Ash found out we were gonna be parents...I'll never forget it. I came down from the tech booth during intermission one night, and she was around the corner waiting for me with a big smile. When I hugged her, she whispered it in my ear. That was a great night.

Five snacks you enjoy
1) Wasabi peas
2) Cereal with yogurt
3) Apples
4) Bananas, with or without peanut butter
5) Bagels with cream cheese

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
1) "How I Could Just Kill a Man" - Cypress Hill
2) "Fucking Hostile" - Pantera
3) "The Gambler" - Kenny Rogers…so maybe I don't know all the words to this song, but I probably know more than you do, and plus it gives me the opportunity to tell you about this thing that happened the other night. Me and the Ash were at home chillin' and the TV was on, and this commercial for a Kenny Rogers greatest hits CD came on. Who the hell's still buying CD's off the TeeVee these days? But I realized to my alarm that I could sing along to every single one of the songs that this commercial played! Every single one of them! From "The Gambler" to "Coward of the County" to "Islands in the Stream", I could sing em all. I know I grew up hearing these songs all the time, but it still freaked my shit out. It's about as close to speaking in tongues as I ever care to come.
4) "Flea Fly" - not sure of the author of this little ditty, but it's known primarily only to ex summer camp counselors such as myself and anyone who has ever done a play with me. If you've experienced it, then you know its power.
5) Pretty much anything by Rage Against the Machine, to which I should add that, as much fun as it is to scream "FUCK YOU I WON'T DO WHATCHA TELL ME" repeatedly at maximum volume, I find it even more satisfying to create vocal approximations of Tom Morello's guitar solos, which I will also gladly do for any Rage song, much to the annoyance of anyone who is trapped in a vehicle with me at the time.

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1) Quit my day job - who with a day job wouldn't.
2) Travel the world
3) Write more. Write a LOT more
4) Contribute generously to charitable causes of choice
5) Make sure that not only Henry, but plenty of other kids, have all the educational opportunities I can possibly provide them.

Five things you like doing:
1) Writing
2) Playing with my kiddo
3) Talking shit, preferably over glasses of wine
4) Laughing my ass off
5) Catching a glimpse of the big picture

Five things you would never wear again:
1) Tee-shirts for metal bands. Except wait, I still have a Deftones tee-shirt I wear sometimes. But they're nu-metal, right?
2) Hypercolor
3) Mousse, as in, in my hair
4) A cokenail - I'm kidding!
5) Turtlenecks - in style or out, I've always hated these things and I always will

Five favorite toys: Not really much of a toy guy, but here goes:
1) Our new computer
2) My kid's fingerpuppets that he finds so entertaining. We've got a frog, a panda bear, a duck, a parrot, a moose, and several others. The panda and the frog seem to be his faves.
3) Little Red Riding Hood action figure cuz she's 6 inches of plastic sexiness
4) Digital Camera, because I can get my kid to smile and stuff, but as soon as he sees the camera, he gets the freaked out" what the shit is that?!" look on his face. Which is why most pictures of him look like this:

5) Baby Monitor cuz I can make noises near the transmitter and hear Ash laugh in the other room where the receiver is. That's just great stuff.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Someone's actually reading this shit

Holy crow, the Holmes got his first shout out from the folks over at Yellow Tape Construction Company. Oddly enough, it appears that I come across as a "she", at least to these folks. Be sure to check out the other Austin theater blogs on Yellow Tape's site, cuz from what I can tell they've all got something cool to offer.