9-26-11

Went to my favorite restaurant the other day.  The waiter gave the satan horns sign to some customers.  I decided not to eat there any more.  He is a fool any ways.  Too bad, I liked the food.  Guys are such idiots, I can say that because I am a guy.  There is no such thing as a free dinner though and I was hurting after that meal.  I have to start cooking for myself.

sore throat

Emma sees a square
lifting
up from despair
but the way is fraught
with tools
given
not bought
and flees the scene
for the mere.


Dream:  Hanging out with nice girl who throws herbs on me that I have no idea what they do.  Then this guy comes in picks up a table and starts rubbing it on his crotch demanding weed and booze.

I wake up and wonder what the hell that one meant.  I do have to say that I do tend to beat off a bit much and it has led to my distancing myself from the world.  I'm almost one month without smoking any bud.  But I did have some drinks the other day and now I have a sore throat.  It serves me right.  

Inspiration

"if eyes were make for seeing,
Then Beauty is its own excuse for being:"
                                                               Ralph Waldo Emerson
It is the light in your
eyes that is beautiful
your happiness is
mined as well
Wishing
The soft beauty of breath
The silent beauty of Death
Deferring.

9-16-11

I've got this rant in my head, but I could never repeat it word for word.  It doesn't make me feel any better.  I don't think that is what people want to hear.  But I have to write something, if not only to excercise my fingers, to train them to move obediently.  My demons have already had enough excercise.
I bought a t-shirt from some guy a long time ago.  It had a drawing of a skull.  The message underneath proclaimed 'Neanderthals are among us, even now'.  That is so true.  I might fit the bill, but my feet are too small.   And my heart is too big.
-Poem in Progress-
Heaven Help ME
For Being a Sentimental
Sap
Oozing
From the Trees
Like Sticky Tears
Trapping the Flies
Come for a Taste
Hardening over Time
To Golden Amber
Preserving
Placed on a Shelf
In the cellar
to gather dust
trapped
in a new home.

fool moon

You with your lunar cycle
Turning, sand into the world
Burning to glass, rushing
And Tumbling, Hurrying
With Hare, ever Resourceful
Yearning.

9-12-11

Depression is stasis.  I don't feel like working (in or out).  I feel like falling down the lonely left; loser that I am.  If I feel this way after a round, then I will go and do what I feel is my calling.
I gave a stripper a 20 and she got mad at me.  Perhaps she thought I wanted more than just to watch her dance.  She did not realize that money means little to me.  Perhaps I did want to get to know her.  I think she called herself 'Destiny'.  She worked out and had muscles.  I thought she was attractive
The world rolls over me with a steam roller flattening me out.  So cars can drive over me.  I am impotent.  My anger is an importance.  I steals in and possesses me, then leaves.  I am helpless.  I am no savior; I am nobody.
To be or not to be..........If I am nothing, it is no crime to take my leave of this place, where fuck is dirty but kill is OK.  will I stall further or else.  It is fear that keeps me here.

Teachers

Mrs. O'Connor read a story to the second grade class:  Tal- and his Adventures in Noom-Zar-Noom" by Paul Fenimore Cooper.  (I found it in a library even though it is long out-of-print).  She was a nice woman, quiet and soft spoken:  one of my favorite teachers.  Her husband was a science teacher, and we did neat things like grow alum crystals and one time he did a demonstration that got our attention.  Corn starch when it is sitting in a pile is not very flammable, but blow on that pile in a can (through a rubber tube) with a candle inside a well, a you can get quite a big ball of flame.
     The O'Connors ran a summer camp.  We would make pot-holders, weave baskets, pound copper into ash trays (which I still have).  They made a drink, which I loved, they called it Okies Punch (grape juice and ginger ale).  I was so lucky to have known them:   a wonderful couple of teachers.