Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) Classic issue #141 (published July 3, 2003): "Deconstructing the construction workers."

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Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) Classic issue #141 (published July 3, 2003)

Deconstructing the construction workers.

Giant Squid: Notes From The Giant Squid: A Tour of the Lab (part 1)

by the Giant Squid . . .

The Lab Proper:

The lab itself takes up the entirety of the 74th (i.e. topmost) floor of the majestic Renaissance Center in Detroit, Michigan. This amounts to something upwards of 15,000 square feet of relatively open space, punctuated by the occasional concrete column (the building having a reinforced concrete superstructure) with standard eight foot ceilings throughout. The perimeter wall is entirely composed of floor-to-ceiling windows and, frankly, the view in the lab would be of sweeping majesty, were it not haphazardly cordoned off with sliding curtains, cubicle walls and highly-suspect extruded-steel/dry-wall construction, much of it either initially installed or since maintained by Rob. Owing to the height of the building, there is a distinct sway to the lab during high winds.

The Aquarium:

The squid's aquarium seems to take up roughly one-quarter of the floor space of our floor of the Ren Cen, although it is difficulty to exactly reckon this, owing to the curved front of the tank. This arced wall, running several hundred feet, curves out from the outer perimeter on the eastern side of the building. I am fairly convinced the tank pierces the floor, going down into the 73rd floor, although this is also fairly difficult to determine, owing to the strong refraction of the immense, curved volume of water. It could go several floors deeper. I am told that there is access to the interior of the tank from the roof, but am confused as to how this could be managed with a pressurized salt-water tank of this size. In any case, I have yet to find a stairway allowing roof access and don't have a pass-key for the freight elevator (which smells like an escaping cocker spaniel, by-the-way).

"You know, if you're here, like, at six in the morning, it's totally awesome when the sun rises, and Lord Archeteuthis is there, and the light is coming in over Windsor and the River and through the pollution and then the windows and then all the little bits of floaty gunk in the tank, all around him. It's totally fucking awesome. It's like— like—"

This is Rob, the janitor, who I shudder to reflect, has something of a crush on me, despite our disparate ages. Also, he appears to believe that the giant squid— who is nonetheless a magnificent and curious specimen of his kind— is some manner of space-alien royalty.

"It just fucking rules."

. . .

Fiction: Inch Lak Flinch by Jerry VilhottiNo matter how old she would become nor how deformed her body would get enhanced with a large waist, the father would see her as the fourteen year old girl - whose looks rivaled actresses strutting themselves across silver screen above upturned heads trying to escape the realities of the Great Depression - he had fondled cleanly, as if she were still the six year old squirming on his lap reaching for real and imaginary objects, the fifteen year old that made actresses look like her baby sister he had touched un-cleanly which his wife saw calling him an animal - a visitor of sheep's pens touching the asses of animals - and finally the sixteen year old who had become "the knockout" of the whole The Bronx being pursed by men of all ages; charging the old ones twenty five cents a peek. . . .

Poetry: Birch Bark Creel by Marcy JarvisMy one, true find.

I didn't appreciate you enough

at the time. . . .

Rant: Wacky Iraqi Pinochle by Alan C. BairdAs a culture, America has become extremely adept at distilling international conflict into collectible items, widely touted via spam e-mail. For example, everybody realized our latest war had the potential to be far more entertaining than Vietnam when one Central Command briefing featured Brigadier General Vincent Brooks, holding up a sample of what is now known as "The Iraqi Deck of Death" and explaining that each playing card depicted a character on the Army's Most Wanted list. . . .