I live in the Sweet Part of the City. I drive the freeway everyday. Sack taps slow me down. One sack tap brings everything to a grinding halt. Then I get to the office. I have reserved parking on P1. The spaces are small. I've been tapped twice. No note. No apology. But I have remote server access to real time digital cameras. When I find you, and I will, prepare for a different kind of sack tapping.
5.26.2010
5.25.2010
cheeseburger, no bun
that's what I was told at the deli today. initially befuddled, and before i could inquire, i was asked to select a secondary cheeseburger delivery platform bread-wise. my consternation was evidently apparent as a manager was quickly summoned to explain. conventional buns had been sold out, she said. there was a supply glitch. nobody's fault. just a sequence of unfortunate events.
i requested an accommodation. a discount, so to speak. my request was circumvented. i was presented with a cheeseburger on buttered, grilled sourdough. it looked tasty. it was. with fresh lettuce and tomato. i'll probably order it that way again. not soon. they must be punished for not being more clever.
i requested an accommodation. a discount, so to speak. my request was circumvented. i was presented with a cheeseburger on buttered, grilled sourdough. it looked tasty. it was. with fresh lettuce and tomato. i'll probably order it that way again. not soon. they must be punished for not being more clever.
5.24.2010
where does it go
5.23.2010
writer
You see him quite wrong, evidently, and would persuade me that he is a genial creature, full of sweetness and amenities and superior to his talents, but I fear he is harnessed to them. He is too consummate an artist to have a thread of nature left. He daunts me! I have not the key.
5.22.2010
amity
Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity caught stars in her arms
Hello hello kitty happy in in New York City Amity walking like a lucky charm
I'm a neon sign and I stay open all the time
So let's go, go go go
Amity Amity god don't make no junk but it's plain to see he still made me
He told me so
I'm good to go
I'm ready to go
'Cos you laugh and talk, and 'cos you make my world rock
I'm so, so so so
Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity good to go
Hello hello kitty happy in in New York City Amity walking like a lucky charm
I'm a neon sign and I stay open all the time
So let's go, go go go
Amity Amity god don't make no junk but it's plain to see he still made me
He told me so
I'm good to go
I'm ready to go
'Cos you laugh and talk, and 'cos you make my world rock
I'm so, so so so
Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity Amity good to go
5.21.2010
je ne sais pas
I don't know. Maybe her or better yet her. One's there, the other's here. Seems obvious doesn't it. It ain't. Not to me. Long distance, I have the friend of a lifetime. Up close, I have new uncertainty, intrigue. Both are challenging. Both require attention and thought. Maybe it's just a kissaway trail.
5.17.2010
charlotte zoolander
almost gone john
John is a painter by trade and lives in the basement of the house I am renting. He's a morose son of a bitch. Tall, thin and laconic. He mopes around, lamenting his lack of work, but he don't seem to try too hard to get any. Instead, he sits in the dark, "just thinkin' about things". That's what he told me. I figure him for an imminent suicide. Figure each time I go downstairs to the laundry room, I might find him hanging from the floor joists.
I ain't seen him around lately. Neither hide nor hair. Maybe he's on the lam. Maybe he's just gone or almost gone. Later John.
I ain't seen him around lately. Neither hide nor hair. Maybe he's on the lam. Maybe he's just gone or almost gone. Later John.
5.15.2010
dick peterdick
Dick Peterdick was a roper, bulldogger and bareback bronc rider hailin' out of Kyle, SD on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. He was also a meth cook and quick draw specialist. Some say he was a shape-shifter. It's too soon to tell. Dick's legacy ain't foretold and Dick ain't nowhere to be found.
Some say he became a three-legged dog. Others say he's a magpie. He was last seen in Hays, Kansas south of the rails down by the cottonwoods along the creek. Everyone knows he keeps his guns clean and his powder dry and sells methamphetamine to the suburban crowd in Kansas City. The toothless, Mountain Dew fueled dumpster divers. Dick's crank wasn't much better than cheap trucker speed, cut with strychnine to bring on a fever.
Dick rode the roughstock series. Couldn't afford the PRCA events. Slept in a Dave Ellis cowboy bedroll in the back of his '96 F-150.
No topper. If it rained, he moved under the truck.
You can only live like this for so long. One day, the chills build and the drugs kill the liver. Dick Peterdick saw it coming. But, by the time it passed, Dick was down. Broken heart, broken spirit. Dick died.
Some say he became a three-legged dog. Others say he's a magpie. He was last seen in Hays, Kansas south of the rails down by the cottonwoods along the creek. Everyone knows he keeps his guns clean and his powder dry and sells methamphetamine to the suburban crowd in Kansas City. The toothless, Mountain Dew fueled dumpster divers. Dick's crank wasn't much better than cheap trucker speed, cut with strychnine to bring on a fever.
Dick rode the roughstock series. Couldn't afford the PRCA events. Slept in a Dave Ellis cowboy bedroll in the back of his '96 F-150.
No topper. If it rained, he moved under the truck.
You can only live like this for so long. One day, the chills build and the drugs kill the liver. Dick Peterdick saw it coming. But, by the time it passed, Dick was down. Broken heart, broken spirit. Dick died.
5.10.2010
cleveland onionpockets
Cleveland Onionpockets lives in Morongo Valley, California just north of Palm Springs. His yard ain't got no grass. His home is a hollow metal cylinder laid on it's side. He don't got windows or heat or air. It smells pretty bad in there what with his staph infection and all.
Cleveland raises spiders. Big spiders. He skins them, tans the hides and makes fur jackets for Barbi Dolls. He sells these in Quartzite across the border in Arizona at the flea market. He rides his old Schwinn 3-speed bicycle over there once every three months. After he tops the valley it's an easy ride. Spider skins are light.
The jackets sell for $40 apiece and Cleveland usually sells out whatever he's brought along. Money in pocket and a song in his heart Cleveland tools back down one hill into the valley and up the other into the mountains hosting the grand city of Morongo Valley. He buys a carton of straight Pall Malls and a case of Keystone Light beer. He sits outside his cylinder in a purloined patio chair and roasts a potato over a cardboard fueled fire. The streetlight overhead lights up his piece of the world.
Cleveland used to ride bulls on the southern Cali circuit, pining for the PRCA NFR in Vegas. But, dang if he didn't get thrown hard against the steel of the chute, smashing his elbow and injuring his brain. The doctor said, Cleveland, your brain is broken. You ain't the same.
He felt the same, except for the elbow, but forgot where he lived and just wandered off, winding up in Morongo. He had followed a spider through the Mojave and was struck by lightening next to a Joshua Tree. He didn't eat and he didn't have any water, but he was never tired, hungry or thirsty. He had no money and had worn through the soles in his shoes. He was taunted by the Trickster, Iktomi, but he did not yield.
Forty days later, Cleveland emerged from the Mojave and came upon what was to become his home. The cylinder. It was built to divert flood water but was large enough diameter-wise for him to stand up in. He inspected it and gave it a nudge. And another. It groaned and rolled. It kept on rolling, rolling right across Paradise Lane and coming to a stop in a weed-choked vacant lot. His broken brain told him he was home.
He was. And he's still there, raising spiders under the streetlight.
Cleveland raises spiders. Big spiders. He skins them, tans the hides and makes fur jackets for Barbi Dolls. He sells these in Quartzite across the border in Arizona at the flea market. He rides his old Schwinn 3-speed bicycle over there once every three months. After he tops the valley it's an easy ride. Spider skins are light.
The jackets sell for $40 apiece and Cleveland usually sells out whatever he's brought along. Money in pocket and a song in his heart Cleveland tools back down one hill into the valley and up the other into the mountains hosting the grand city of Morongo Valley. He buys a carton of straight Pall Malls and a case of Keystone Light beer. He sits outside his cylinder in a purloined patio chair and roasts a potato over a cardboard fueled fire. The streetlight overhead lights up his piece of the world.
Cleveland used to ride bulls on the southern Cali circuit, pining for the PRCA NFR in Vegas. But, dang if he didn't get thrown hard against the steel of the chute, smashing his elbow and injuring his brain. The doctor said, Cleveland, your brain is broken. You ain't the same.
He felt the same, except for the elbow, but forgot where he lived and just wandered off, winding up in Morongo. He had followed a spider through the Mojave and was struck by lightening next to a Joshua Tree. He didn't eat and he didn't have any water, but he was never tired, hungry or thirsty. He had no money and had worn through the soles in his shoes. He was taunted by the Trickster, Iktomi, but he did not yield.
Forty days later, Cleveland emerged from the Mojave and came upon what was to become his home. The cylinder. It was built to divert flood water but was large enough diameter-wise for him to stand up in. He inspected it and gave it a nudge. And another. It groaned and rolled. It kept on rolling, rolling right across Paradise Lane and coming to a stop in a weed-choked vacant lot. His broken brain told him he was home.
He was. And he's still there, raising spiders under the streetlight.
a fond farewell
I see you're leaving me and taking up with the enemy
The cold comfort of the in between
A little less than a human being
A little less than a happy high
A little less than a suicide
The only things that you really tried
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
The cold comfort of the in between
A little less than a human being
A little less than a happy high
A little less than a suicide
The only things that you really tried
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
pretty (ugly before)
Sunshine been keeping me up for days
There is no nighttime, it's only a passing phase
And I feel pretty, pretty enough for you
I felt so ugly before
I didn't know what to do
Sometimes is all I feel up to now
But it's not worth it to you, 'cos you gotta get high somehow
Is it destruction that you're required to feel?
Like somebody wants you, someone that's more for real?
Sunshine been keeping me up for days
There is no nighttime, only a passing phase
And I'll feel pretty another hour or two
I felt so ugly before
I didn't know what to do
I felt so ugly before
I didn't know what to do
I felt so ugly before
I didn't know what to do
Ugly before
There is no nighttime, it's only a passing phase
And I feel pretty, pretty enough for you
I felt so ugly before
I didn't know what to do
Sometimes is all I feel up to now
But it's not worth it to you, 'cos you gotta get high somehow
Is it destruction that you're required to feel?
Like somebody wants you, someone that's more for real?
Sunshine been keeping me up for days
There is no nighttime, only a passing phase
And I'll feel pretty another hour or two
I felt so ugly before
I didn't know what to do
I felt so ugly before
I didn't know what to do
I felt so ugly before
I didn't know what to do
Ugly before
5.01.2010
some time
It can take some time. Sometime. Like waiting for the pizza guy or the laundry cycle. Or making a new friend. Adopting a cat. Growing a cactus. Filling a swimming pool. Buying new shoes. Sweeping the patio. Downloading anything.
But if you listen you'll hear the world's energy. Sometime time turned into whenever. Whenever turned into now. Welcome to right now. Where are you?
But if you listen you'll hear the world's energy. Sometime time turned into whenever. Whenever turned into now. Welcome to right now. Where are you?
4.30.2010
owl city
I work a lot of late nights. It's three freeway interchanges to get home then up the avenue next to the light rail. Past the 24 hour Burger King on 46th, the 24 hour McDonalds on 42nd, the light rail stops to my left. People dart from there across Hiawatha in front of me like nocturnal rodents. Dodging traffic. Risking it.
It was raining last night so I had the fog lights on and next thing I know I've come to a complete stop, staring at two human beings (presumably not rodentia), wearing garbage bags over their clothing. Staring back at me. Like poor kid Halloween ghosts in plastic sheets.
It seems like time stops, I hear a screech of tires, look left and watch an Escalade get smacked by the train. It bursts into flames. I look back at the road in front of me and the garbage-bag people have become owls. They fly away. Sometimes I can't sleep for days in Owl City.
It was raining last night so I had the fog lights on and next thing I know I've come to a complete stop, staring at two human beings (presumably not rodentia), wearing garbage bags over their clothing. Staring back at me. Like poor kid Halloween ghosts in plastic sheets.
It seems like time stops, I hear a screech of tires, look left and watch an Escalade get smacked by the train. It bursts into flames. I look back at the road in front of me and the garbage-bag people have become owls. They fly away. Sometimes I can't sleep for days in Owl City.
4.29.2010
emerson on friendship
1. We have a great deal more kindness than is ever spoken. Barring all the selfishness that chills like east winds the world, the whole human family is bathed with an element of love like a fine ether. How many persons we meet in houses, whom we scarcely speak to, whom yet we honor, and who honor us! How many we see in the street, or sit with in church, whom, though silently, we warmly rejoice to be with! Read the language of these wandering eyebeams. The heart knoweth.
2. The effect of the indulgence of this human affection is a certain cordial exhilaration. In poetry, and in common speech, the emotions of benevolence and complacency which are felt toward others, are likened to the material effects of fire; so swift, or much more swift, more active, more cheering are these fine inward irradiations. From the highest degree of passionate love, to the lowest degree of good will, they make the sweetness of life.
2. The effect of the indulgence of this human affection is a certain cordial exhilaration. In poetry, and in common speech, the emotions of benevolence and complacency which are felt toward others, are likened to the material effects of fire; so swift, or much more swift, more active, more cheering are these fine inward irradiations. From the highest degree of passionate love, to the lowest degree of good will, they make the sweetness of life.
4.28.2010
the lightkeeper
A night without ships. Foghorns called into walled cloud, and you still alive, drawn to the light as if it were a fire kept by monks, darkness once crusted with stars, but now death-dark as you sail inward.Through wild gorse and sea wrack, through heather and torn wool
you ran, pulling me by the hand, so I might see this for once in my life:
the spin and spin of light, the whirring of it, light in search of the lost,
there since the era of fire, era of candles and hollow-wick lamps,
whale oil and solid wick, colza and lard, kerosene and carbide,
the signal fires lighted on this perilous coast in the Tower of Hook.
You say to me stay awake, be like the lensmaker who died with his
lungs full of glass, be the yew in blossom when bees swarm, be
their amber cathedral and even the ghosts of Cistercians will be kind to you.
In a certain light as after rain, in pearled clouds or the water beyond,
seen or sensed water, sea or lake, you would stop still and gaze out
for a long time. Also when fireflies opened and closed in the pines,
and a star appeared, our only heaven. You taught me to live like this.
That after death it would be as it was before we were born. Nothing
to be afraid. Nothing but happiness as unbearable as the dread
from which it comes. Go toward the light always, be without ships.
by Carolyn Forché, a fantastic writer of poetry, to be published May 3, 2010.
you ran, pulling me by the hand, so I might see this for once in my life:
the spin and spin of light, the whirring of it, light in search of the lost,
there since the era of fire, era of candles and hollow-wick lamps,
whale oil and solid wick, colza and lard, kerosene and carbide,
the signal fires lighted on this perilous coast in the Tower of Hook.
You say to me stay awake, be like the lensmaker who died with his
lungs full of glass, be the yew in blossom when bees swarm, be
their amber cathedral and even the ghosts of Cistercians will be kind to you.
In a certain light as after rain, in pearled clouds or the water beyond,
seen or sensed water, sea or lake, you would stop still and gaze out
for a long time. Also when fireflies opened and closed in the pines,
and a star appeared, our only heaven. You taught me to live like this.
That after death it would be as it was before we were born. Nothing
to be afraid. Nothing but happiness as unbearable as the dread
from which it comes. Go toward the light always, be without ships.
by Carolyn Forché, a fantastic writer of poetry, to be published May 3, 2010.
4.25.2010
split myself
the man laid his hat on the table
hung his coat up on the wall
sat down to dinner
said as soon as I am able
I'll say something nice to you all
then he took a deck from his pocket
spread em so I saw em all
then he turned his back to me
shuffled em and drew me
the card that said I never would fall
oh mary lou won't you tell me what to do
I got a dollar on the corner
and a lazer in my shoe
if I don't get an answer
gonna split myself in two
he spun till a ton was glistening
turned to me and gave me a smile
he said I'm leaving now
but I want what you owe me
I'll be back in a little while
that was the last time I saw him
hope I never see him again
I know it sounds funny
but I owe him some money
and I really don't want him for a friend
oh mary lou won't you tell me what to do
I got a dollar on the corner
and a lazer in my shoe
if I don't get an answer
gonna split myself in two
thanks to kirk kirkwood, tempe AZ's finest
hung his coat up on the wall
sat down to dinner
said as soon as I am able
I'll say something nice to you all
then he took a deck from his pocket
spread em so I saw em all
then he turned his back to me
shuffled em and drew me
the card that said I never would fall
oh mary lou won't you tell me what to do
I got a dollar on the corner
and a lazer in my shoe
if I don't get an answer
gonna split myself in two
he spun till a ton was glistening
turned to me and gave me a smile
he said I'm leaving now
but I want what you owe me
I'll be back in a little while
that was the last time I saw him
hope I never see him again
I know it sounds funny
but I owe him some money
and I really don't want him for a friend
oh mary lou won't you tell me what to do
I got a dollar on the corner
and a lazer in my shoe
if I don't get an answer
gonna split myself in two
thanks to kirk kirkwood, tempe AZ's finest
air hockey tournament
tomorrow! at the sons of norway norwegian center for norgies. three pool-table sized air hockey tables. no beer, but cabbage and ham shanks are available for a nominal donation to the norway norwegion sisters of the norwegians. the dreaded triple N society or NNsN in popular norwegion lingo.
anyway: starts at 7, round robin single elimination, personal paddles only after inspection (you dirty finnish bastards!). cabbage at 6:30, games at 7. do not even try to bring beer. it's a norwegion event, bring vodka dumbass. and your english pop mixtape.
anyway: starts at 7, round robin single elimination, personal paddles only after inspection (you dirty finnish bastards!). cabbage at 6:30, games at 7. do not even try to bring beer. it's a norwegion event, bring vodka dumbass. and your english pop mixtape.
resident dave
MSP3.
Resident Dave is moving out at the end of the month with his dog Scoobie. Scoobie is the cooler of the two. Scoobie doesn't corner you and talk utter nonsense like Dave does. And while Scoobie can be an offensive sniffer, he responds to commands. Dave not so much.
But I have found that Dave responds to direction. Like "Hey Dave, sweep the patio and pick up those twigs, we'll build a fire." He'll go right at it. He'll say, "Yeah, yeah, right, I need to do that." I just sit and watch, smiling. Wondering what makes a dude like that tick. If someone said that to me, I'd chuckle and say "for real, dude?" And if dude said "yeah, clean the patio", I'd say "[expletive deleted], and if it isn't too much to ask, bring me a beer, your wife clearly doesn't understand how to." But, that's just me. I can be abrasive but I've always figured folks appreciate a straight-shooter.
For example: I spotted the cross-eyed baby with the birthmark of Florida on it's forehead (they fixed the eye, but last I heard the map covered the entire SE US); I warned my roommate that his new mustache was a little too "Freddie Mercury" (he shaved it off same day); and my favorite, when I told Curt Warner, "yep, you can jump and ride a porcupine but you might regret it." He jumped it anyway. (He regretted it.)
Resident Dave is moving out at the end of the month with his dog Scoobie. Scoobie is the cooler of the two. Scoobie doesn't corner you and talk utter nonsense like Dave does. And while Scoobie can be an offensive sniffer, he responds to commands. Dave not so much.
But I have found that Dave responds to direction. Like "Hey Dave, sweep the patio and pick up those twigs, we'll build a fire." He'll go right at it. He'll say, "Yeah, yeah, right, I need to do that." I just sit and watch, smiling. Wondering what makes a dude like that tick. If someone said that to me, I'd chuckle and say "for real, dude?" And if dude said "yeah, clean the patio", I'd say "[expletive deleted], and if it isn't too much to ask, bring me a beer, your wife clearly doesn't understand how to." But, that's just me. I can be abrasive but I've always figured folks appreciate a straight-shooter.
For example: I spotted the cross-eyed baby with the birthmark of Florida on it's forehead (they fixed the eye, but last I heard the map covered the entire SE US); I warned my roommate that his new mustache was a little too "Freddie Mercury" (he shaved it off same day); and my favorite, when I told Curt Warner, "yep, you can jump and ride a porcupine but you might regret it." He jumped it anyway. (He regretted it.)
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