Tuesday, March 20, 2012
There's No Team in Swim
The city shape shifts into little more than random strings of white mismatched Christmas lights,
thrown down to Earth in frustration.
And we are all that has meaning. We are the only thing with purpose.
The calculated meeting of half-grins and full hearts.
In the distance, the horizon is red and grey like blood in dirty rain.
The quickening pulse of a cut vein,
injecting its contents into water.
Bleeding out because we know no other way.
Somewhere, people are swimming on their backs, peering skyward, and allowing eye muscles
to dystrophy into a gaze made of sea-battered glass.
But we, oh no, we never relax. Every movement is moved by the unspoken.
Translating, with limbs and eyebrows and toes curled in our shoes, the words that fail our mouths.
We paddle hard,
but it does nothing to clear the blushing iron from where we swim.
No lapse of time can dilute the red.
The blood swirls and churns and screams of beauty and haunts us with thin brushstrokes of dark things.
Sharks would circle if only they could find a way in.
We're our own predators.
I restrain myself and
you tell truths that don't quite fit the definition.
This elliptical death isn't seasonal.
Our end is a well of eternal plasma,
rising, blooming in waters suddenly disturbed.
I haven't slept in days,
How many times will we gladly slice ourselves open before bleeding to death?
Have we already?
(2012 Copyright @CEchert)
Thursday, October 6, 2011
For Apple Cinnamon Cupcakes
1/2 c. butter
1 3/4 c. sugar
4 c. shredded apples, loosely packed
2 1/4 c. flour
2 tsp. baking soda
2 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
Preheat oven to 350.
Sift and whisk together flour, baking soda, salt, nutmeg and cinnamon. Set aside. Cream butter and sugar in mixer. Mix in eggs and vanilla. Add shredded apples and mix on low. Add the flour mixture until just combined.
Fill 24 cupcake liners halfway with batter. Bake for 18 minutes or until tops are spongy and browned.
Meanwhile, make your Honey Cream Cheese Icing:
2 packages cream cheese, softened
1/3 c. honey (I use whipped cinnamon-flavored honey that has a denser texture, but you can add a dash or two of cinnamon to regular)
1 tsp vanilla
1 c. powdered sugar (can add more or less depending on desired sweetness/density.)
Mix cream cheese, honey and vanilla. Add powdered sugar until combined. Place in refrigerator for at least an hour to set.
By now the cupcakes should be out of the oven and set to cool. Time to make the dulcede leche!
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1 tsp sea salt
First, increase the oven temp to 425. In a glass pie pan, empty the contents of the condensed milk and sprinkle evenly with the sea salt. Place the pie pan in a larger pan and fill the larger pan with hot water to immerse only the bottom half of the pie pan. Cover the pie pan tightly with foil. Place in the oven for about an hour, replacing any evaporated water in the larger pan as needed. The milk should have taken on a brown, caramel-like consistency. Stir the dulce de leche and allow to cool before transferring to a pastry bag with a piping tip.
Now it's time to assemble. Cut small holes in the tops of cupcakes. Pipe the dulce de leche inside. Frost with the cream cheese icing and feel free to decorate with any additional dulce de leche (as I did.)
Savor the Fall goodness and enjoy the deliciosity.
Monday, August 2, 2010
"The baby's hair claims to look real but once you get the baby you will see that it looks like someone took some glue to the head. It also does not look like a real baby."
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Below is an excerpt from the short story I wrote for Zombie St. Pete under the name Chonny Sanchez. It's titled Tiaras and Cold Feet. Some of you have been asking where you can find the book (which sold out at the release)--ZSP is taking pre-orders for the second printing if you write an email to email@example.com. Enjoy!
...Kathy and Max took their seats. The lights went dim and the MC danced out onto the stage, wearing a tuxedo covered completely in silver sequins as he belted out the pageant’s theme song, looking like a musical string of Christmas lights with a dying battery. Behind him was an enormous backdrop bearing the pageant name in silver cursive, with a row of flamingos wearing high heels embroidered across the bottom.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s bring out our first contestant in this year’s Junior Pretty Flamingo competition, Jessica Brown! Jessica describes her perfect day as coloring with crayons!”
Let the games begin, Kathy thought. She watched the first five girls come and go without cause for concern, listening to the MC announce each of them from the stage, the exclamation points punctuating his voice.
“Contestant Number Six. Chrissy Karp. Chrissy describes her perfect day as adopting a homeless puppy!”
Upon hearing her name, Chrissy emerged perfectly poised, like some dwarfed pinup in her doll-sized polka dot bikini. She continued without a beat, stopping to pose and flash a smile that was flawless, thanks to a porcelain flipper that covered her recently lost baby teeth. Kathy’s heart dropped past her knees. Even she had to admit that Chrissy was breathtaking.
So enamored with Chrissy’s swimsuit presentation Kathy almost overlooked her own daughter climbing up the side of the stage. The first thing she noticed was the child’s skin. Was it the spotlights casting that grayish blue shade on it? Then she saw Brandibelle’s mouth was blood red.
When will she learn to stay out of the makeup kit? Kathy fumed to herself.
Max put his head in his hands, mentally throwing in the towel on any hopes of a JPF crown for Brandibelle.
Parents began to shout.
“What is that kid doing on stage?”
“Someone get her down!”
“I think she’s bleeding. Where’s her mother?”
Everything happened so quickly. Kathy got up from her seat. In that same instant Chrissy did a quarter turn to face Brandibelle who, now standing behind her, bit into the soft flesh just below Chrissy’s collarbone. Brandibelle turned her head almost mechanically, ripping an Oreo sized chunk out of the baby smooth skin. The wound sprayed blood like molten lava, hot and red, across Brandibelle’s cheeks as she began to chew the sinewy hunk of meat. Some of the audience members gasped. Nearly all the others turned to each other in disbelief. Kathy sat back down.
“Who approved such a disgusting routine?” a particularly straight-laced mother asked. “It’s totally inappropriate.”
“I believe it’s the work of that Max Starr guy. I’ve heard he’s a real genius.”
The woman to the other side of the two turned at the mention of his name. “Do you think this is what the judges are looking for? Something different?”
Max was in too much shock to correct them.
As Brandibelle worked her way to Chrissy’s abdomen, the MC dropped the mic, suddenly looking very ill. In a few uncoordinated motions, Brandibelle bit into her waist, peeling the skin down from Chrissy’s ribcage to her bellybutton like a half-wrapped birthday gift. A jack-in the-box of intestines and organs popped out onto the wooden stage floor. The MC’s color was changing by the moment, a cobalt blue flush washing up over him. Brandibelle crammed two fistfuls of ropy guts into her mouth, the blood like a fresh coat of lipstick as she eyed the MC, hungrily. The suspension of disbelief had gotten the best of the audience who remained oblivious to the severity of the situation.
Finally, a father, Chrissy Karp’s in fact, spoke out. “Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on here? I didn’t dish out three grand in fees to watch a B horror movie.”...
Monday, February 22, 2010
Cinematic Moment: What happens to the youtubers?