today i write a song. predictable and clever. it's supposed to be kind of a jack johnson song...
ink blot, buckshot,
i'm drinking, it's five o' clock
and i don't really know where i've been.
bloodshot,
forget-me-not,
i can't hold on to what i've got,
i only know that i've sinned.
it's just too much trouble to tie up the loose ends,
too much time to make friends,
too many chances to miss out,
and start all over again.
don't forget where you're going,
don't forget where you've been.
lay it on the roadside to rest, my friend,
and start all over again.
there's thinking,
and drinking,
what the hell was she thinking?
a machine and not a man?
too late
to get straight
i want to win, but it's just too late,
i guess i'll just do what i can.
clever rhymes and poetry won't save you from yourself,
one of these days you've got to get going...
it's just too much trouble to think about,
too much time too spend.
too many problems within without,
start all over again.
that's it. thinking style circa 1979. quadratic rhyme. simple. ambling yet manageable. all the things that you think about and those that you don't. stupid brain.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
of great men and magical moments: dory boats.
my dad invented "dory boats". i think the "wild rumpus" was a collaborative effort between him and my mom...
dory boats goes like this. you're little, and it's time for bed. death sentence on the day. right?
well, once in awhile, not that often, my dad would say, "let's play dory boats!" we would all go upstairs to the bunk-beds, me and him and eric, my brother, gathering up "paddles" and gear on the way.
the bed was a dory boat, and we were hearty fishermen crashing our way out through the shore-break at pacific city. the seas were always rough. my dad would urgently instruct us to paddle this way or that to avoid rocks and general peril. commands were shouted to an able crew.
only once in awhile... not that often. that's what made it so fun. it was special.
like the "wild rumpus", where everybody just goes nuts in the living room. jump around and scream and dance, anything you want to. everybody. me and my mom and dad and eric. dancing around and acting silly in a modest little living room in 1968.
the world looked alot different then. all you needed was a sound boat and a good heart. love was implied.
my parents are great people. together and as individuals, they have proven themselves to be downright magical. i don't know what i would do without them.
i guess build a dory boat.
that's all for now.
dory boats goes like this. you're little, and it's time for bed. death sentence on the day. right?
well, once in awhile, not that often, my dad would say, "let's play dory boats!" we would all go upstairs to the bunk-beds, me and him and eric, my brother, gathering up "paddles" and gear on the way.
the bed was a dory boat, and we were hearty fishermen crashing our way out through the shore-break at pacific city. the seas were always rough. my dad would urgently instruct us to paddle this way or that to avoid rocks and general peril. commands were shouted to an able crew.
only once in awhile... not that often. that's what made it so fun. it was special.
like the "wild rumpus", where everybody just goes nuts in the living room. jump around and scream and dance, anything you want to. everybody. me and my mom and dad and eric. dancing around and acting silly in a modest little living room in 1968.
the world looked alot different then. all you needed was a sound boat and a good heart. love was implied.
my parents are great people. together and as individuals, they have proven themselves to be downright magical. i don't know what i would do without them.
i guess build a dory boat.
that's all for now.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
create.
that's what the button said, and i agree.
create, fix, build, make something.
that's what i've got to say.
do whatever you want.
r.
create, fix, build, make something.
that's what i've got to say.
do whatever you want.
r.
clerk / cuustomer. re
she was there and so was i. a business deal.
share ideas?
only under the shroud of perceived darkness. when we're alone. company policy.
etiquette, i suppose.
delicate and frail gestures, deliberate nonetheless.
did i say that?
to theresa from richard.
share ideas?
only under the shroud of perceived darkness. when we're alone. company policy.
etiquette, i suppose.
delicate and frail gestures, deliberate nonetheless.
did i say that?
to theresa from richard.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
it's happening again.
good news, reader, i'm back on track. it's happening again.
turns out, the plaid pantry has confidence and well-being on sale for $3.88 a six pack. bargain at twice the price, don't you say?
in some ways, i regret my previous entry. maybe a little too dark. i feel like i've got some time now, a few amendments...
life gives you candies while it's pulling your teeth. man, heading down to the coast with rory, all systems "go." having enough money. drunk early. your best friend answering her phone. an open ride. kissing soft and welcoming lips. saying "i'll see you soon", and meaning it. did i say an open ride? overcoming a looming obstacle. man, that movie must have been romantic.
twentythousand cigarettes. one, two, three. nobody knows...
tomorrow, i'll kick their teeth in again.
"guess i'm gonna give up", says purdy. that's fucking lame. i'm changing the song...
love, mostly, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
turns out, the plaid pantry has confidence and well-being on sale for $3.88 a six pack. bargain at twice the price, don't you say?
in some ways, i regret my previous entry. maybe a little too dark. i feel like i've got some time now, a few amendments...
life gives you candies while it's pulling your teeth. man, heading down to the coast with rory, all systems "go." having enough money. drunk early. your best friend answering her phone. an open ride. kissing soft and welcoming lips. saying "i'll see you soon", and meaning it. did i say an open ride? overcoming a looming obstacle. man, that movie must have been romantic.
twentythousand cigarettes. one, two, three. nobody knows...
tomorrow, i'll kick their teeth in again.
"guess i'm gonna give up", says purdy. that's fucking lame. i'm changing the song...
love, mostly, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
"new year's day"
resolutions are for people that are about to be very disappointed in themselves. new year's parties are for people to drink like beginners and make out with people they wouldn't normally. many will vomit. it's a fucking insult. i've got some time in here. i'm a local.
anyway, i got a few days off for this ass-hole holiday, and for that i am grateful. it's 7:40 am, and i've been up for a hundred years. this is my last day off, so i've got to make it good. can't vacuum or listen to music yet, but i've had a shower and done my day's shopping. toilet paper, sodium bombs, and beer. i've got tools, and i intend to use them. i feel pretty legitimate.
i am currently obsessed with the idea of guerrilla art. it tickles me. the chance to surprise strangers with an artifact that may delight or horrify them. and the equal bonus, hopefully, of gaining silent, anonymous noteriety. contradiction of terms, you say? balderdash! it can happen, as long as i don't brag too much. my accomplice is of the highest integrity. we intend to have some fun. nobody gets hurt. brilliant!
can't say much more on that topic, lest i piss in my own boot. (yeah, i just made that up...).
bez, i recently gave you that name, you know who you are. i hope that you are doing especially well, and i hope you like my ideas.
same goes for you, red (new one!), thanks for the pizza! i can't believe i ate the whole thing. hell, i'll be talking to you in about 45 minutes. weave me some lovely thoughts.
inevitability comes to mind, we are a predictable people. assholes drink too much on new year's eve and tell secrets that should never be told. i grow another 10 minutes older. real pain can't be recalled accurately. and, wouldn't you know? even the tax-man is on my ass.
i'll deal with this, and you deal with that. everyone is redeemable. and i'm fucking cold and tired.
rrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwggggggggg.
anyway, i got a few days off for this ass-hole holiday, and for that i am grateful. it's 7:40 am, and i've been up for a hundred years. this is my last day off, so i've got to make it good. can't vacuum or listen to music yet, but i've had a shower and done my day's shopping. toilet paper, sodium bombs, and beer. i've got tools, and i intend to use them. i feel pretty legitimate.
i am currently obsessed with the idea of guerrilla art. it tickles me. the chance to surprise strangers with an artifact that may delight or horrify them. and the equal bonus, hopefully, of gaining silent, anonymous noteriety. contradiction of terms, you say? balderdash! it can happen, as long as i don't brag too much. my accomplice is of the highest integrity. we intend to have some fun. nobody gets hurt. brilliant!
can't say much more on that topic, lest i piss in my own boot. (yeah, i just made that up...).
bez, i recently gave you that name, you know who you are. i hope that you are doing especially well, and i hope you like my ideas.
same goes for you, red (new one!), thanks for the pizza! i can't believe i ate the whole thing. hell, i'll be talking to you in about 45 minutes. weave me some lovely thoughts.
inevitability comes to mind, we are a predictable people. assholes drink too much on new year's eve and tell secrets that should never be told. i grow another 10 minutes older. real pain can't be recalled accurately. and, wouldn't you know? even the tax-man is on my ass.
i'll deal with this, and you deal with that. everyone is redeemable. and i'm fucking cold and tired.
rrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwggggggggg.
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