I saw a commercial for a tooth brush with a handle that one squeezes, causing the head to bend, making it easier to reach back teeth. I saw another commercial for a tooth brush that has criss-cross bristles, that will render one's teeth 30% cleaner. I don't actually remember the percentage, but you get the idea.
Martha Stewart had a guest on "Living" that had written 3 books about irons. I think it may be time to research the history of the tooth brush and do a book on that. Maybe something in a "coffee table" format.
Again, stay tuned for updates.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Interesting (to me anyway) phenomena.
Has anyone else noticed that, in the last 30 years or so, the tooth brush has been reinvented at least 50 times? Flexible handle. Bristles that are rounded, different lengths, or colored to show wear so you'll know when to replace them. Diamond shaped head. A bent handle, like a dental instrument. A stationary head with rotating bristles. And on and on. I know it's a ploy to sell brushes, but it annoys me. I mean, a tooth brush is just some bristles on a stick. My preference, as a practical, no nonsense guy (for the most part...), is a straight handled, rectangular headed, flat bristled brush - which, of course, I can't even find anymore.
I'll keep you updated.
I'll keep you updated.
Interesting (to me anyway) phenomena.
Sometimes, when a person buys a "lemon" from a car dealership, and can't get it fixed or can't get out of the deal, they will paint it up, bad-mouthing the dealer. This one guy I saw had a pick-up truck that was inscribed, "(NAME OF CAR LOT) SOLD ME THIS PIECE OF JUNK AND THEY WON'T FIX IT. THEY CAN KISS MY RUBY RED BUTT!" in big red letters.
Now, a ruby red butt is a really, really red butt. Do you think that he was sharing too much personal information about a weird physical condition or chances are that he just thought that sounded good, and while his neck might have been red, his butt was probably alabaster? Elsewhere, on the truck, it said, "GOD FORGIVE ME!" and "I FEEL ROBBED!"
It is an interesting way to get back at a dealer you feel has wronged you - especially if you drive the vehicle back and forth in front of his establishment or park it across the road.
God forgive me?
Now, a ruby red butt is a really, really red butt. Do you think that he was sharing too much personal information about a weird physical condition or chances are that he just thought that sounded good, and while his neck might have been red, his butt was probably alabaster? Elsewhere, on the truck, it said, "GOD FORGIVE ME!" and "I FEEL ROBBED!"
It is an interesting way to get back at a dealer you feel has wronged you - especially if you drive the vehicle back and forth in front of his establishment or park it across the road.
God forgive me?
I'm old. There, I said it.
I was young for a long time. Nothing much changed. Nothing seemed as if it were ever going to change. Then, one day, I woke up and I was old.
My hair turned grey and unruly. I had weird aches and pains. Spots began to develop on my skin. Cancerous? Who knows. I started thinking about all those long Saturdays laying in the sun at the beach. But, I won't die of cancer. I'll die from a heart attack.
Wrinkles. Red blotches on my face. And my eye sight! Everything is blurry to me now. When I get my driver's license renewed in September, I pray that I'll be able to read the signs. The renewal will be good for 8 years. I probably won't live that long, so I won't have to worry about the next one.
I don't feel the same. I'm someone else. It's so hard for me to adjust. I don't have the energy. I don't feel like doing the things I used to love to do. Sometimes, though, that's a good thing.
People have told me that I'm a good looking guy, but when I look in the mirror I see something hideous looking back at me.
And there's nothing I can do about it. So I try to remain well groomed...
I heard "Magic Carpet Ride" on the radio today and I couldn't, for the life of me, remember the name of Steppenwolf's lead singer. It simply would not come to me. I finally got John. But John what? (And I wasn't 100% sure about the John.) So, I went through the alphabet, "A,B,C..no..D...." When I got to K, it seemed right. Now, what starts with "K?" Eventually, it hit me: Kay!
This is the kind of thing that happens when you're old.
I'm old. But there's this 16 year old inside of me screaming "Let me out!!"
Sixteen. Jeez, that was 33 years ago...
My hair turned grey and unruly. I had weird aches and pains. Spots began to develop on my skin. Cancerous? Who knows. I started thinking about all those long Saturdays laying in the sun at the beach. But, I won't die of cancer. I'll die from a heart attack.
Wrinkles. Red blotches on my face. And my eye sight! Everything is blurry to me now. When I get my driver's license renewed in September, I pray that I'll be able to read the signs. The renewal will be good for 8 years. I probably won't live that long, so I won't have to worry about the next one.
I don't feel the same. I'm someone else. It's so hard for me to adjust. I don't have the energy. I don't feel like doing the things I used to love to do. Sometimes, though, that's a good thing.
People have told me that I'm a good looking guy, but when I look in the mirror I see something hideous looking back at me.
And there's nothing I can do about it. So I try to remain well groomed...
I heard "Magic Carpet Ride" on the radio today and I couldn't, for the life of me, remember the name of Steppenwolf's lead singer. It simply would not come to me. I finally got John. But John what? (And I wasn't 100% sure about the John.) So, I went through the alphabet, "A,B,C..no..D...." When I got to K, it seemed right. Now, what starts with "K?" Eventually, it hit me: Kay!
This is the kind of thing that happens when you're old.
I'm old. But there's this 16 year old inside of me screaming "Let me out!!"
Sixteen. Jeez, that was 33 years ago...
Friday, March 26, 2010
My heart (update).
I went to Chapel Hill today for a check-up.
My cardiologist is beginning to grow on me a bit. Maybe he was just in a good mood because it's Spring. And it's a Friday. He's very British. He says things like, "I shan't be a moment." I've always been uptight and nervous when I have to visit, so I don't think I picked up on his (extremely) dry humour. Also, he's an incredibly busy man. Very direct. To the point - and understandably so.
In my line of work, no one's life is in my hands.
My EKG looked good, relatively speaking, and my ICD reading was much better than last time. I had fewer incidents of tachycardia. And the ones I had were less severe. So the new medication seems to be working.
My Cardiologist was happy and so was I. I have to go back in 6 months.
I saw a really cool tag on the three hour drive up. It said "ASK TELL." On the front of the truck was a Rainbow Flag tag.
I got lost, as usual, when I got in the Triangle area. I had to stop and ask directions. One Jamaican dude in a convenience store gave me some rambling instructions and another guy said, "You don't want to go that way..." He seemed the clearer of the two, so I followed his directions and they worked out - after I made a wrong turn and doubled back. I hate driving up there.
Anyway, I'm home (thank you Jeebus!) and planning to make a few changes. I've gained some weight over this long, dark, cold, wet winter and I've developed some bad habits. Imagine that...
Spring is a time for rebirth.
My cardiologist is beginning to grow on me a bit. Maybe he was just in a good mood because it's Spring. And it's a Friday. He's very British. He says things like, "I shan't be a moment." I've always been uptight and nervous when I have to visit, so I don't think I picked up on his (extremely) dry humour. Also, he's an incredibly busy man. Very direct. To the point - and understandably so.
In my line of work, no one's life is in my hands.
My EKG looked good, relatively speaking, and my ICD reading was much better than last time. I had fewer incidents of tachycardia. And the ones I had were less severe. So the new medication seems to be working.
My Cardiologist was happy and so was I. I have to go back in 6 months.
I saw a really cool tag on the three hour drive up. It said "ASK TELL." On the front of the truck was a Rainbow Flag tag.
I got lost, as usual, when I got in the Triangle area. I had to stop and ask directions. One Jamaican dude in a convenience store gave me some rambling instructions and another guy said, "You don't want to go that way..." He seemed the clearer of the two, so I followed his directions and they worked out - after I made a wrong turn and doubled back. I hate driving up there.
Anyway, I'm home (thank you Jeebus!) and planning to make a few changes. I've gained some weight over this long, dark, cold, wet winter and I've developed some bad habits. Imagine that...
Spring is a time for rebirth.
Monday, March 22, 2010
First apartment. First party.1978.
The lamp base had a large hole through its middle, with nothing in its immediate area that indicated a cause. It stood. Someone spilt beer on the ceiling (?!). The drain stopper from the kitchen sink lay under the stereo speaker in the living room. Throughout the house, silverware, beer and wine bottles and broken glass abounded.
The night before:
D'Arcy locked himself in his room and screamed that he was going to cut his wrists. While Eddie lay in the bathroom, throwing up, I kicked in D'Arcy's door and found him lying in bed. He drunkenly smiled at me. He had been hacking at his wrists with a disposable Bic safety razor. He survived.
At the height of wild abandon, a beer bottle throwing game began, leaving the living room wall looking like Swiss cheese. The poster being aimed at was unharmed.
"Shit!" Patricia cried.
"What's the matter?"
"I got glass in my ass!"
At some point, I smashed my hand through a window pane over the kitchen sink. "Jimmi!" I then smashed the second pane. "Damn, man!"
At the end of the evening, I made bologna gravy for D'Arcy.
Bologna gravy...
The night before:
D'Arcy locked himself in his room and screamed that he was going to cut his wrists. While Eddie lay in the bathroom, throwing up, I kicked in D'Arcy's door and found him lying in bed. He drunkenly smiled at me. He had been hacking at his wrists with a disposable Bic safety razor. He survived.
At the height of wild abandon, a beer bottle throwing game began, leaving the living room wall looking like Swiss cheese. The poster being aimed at was unharmed.
"Shit!" Patricia cried.
"What's the matter?"
"I got glass in my ass!"
At some point, I smashed my hand through a window pane over the kitchen sink. "Jimmi!" I then smashed the second pane. "Damn, man!"
At the end of the evening, I made bologna gravy for D'Arcy.
Bologna gravy...
Sunday, March 21, 2010
First apartment. 1978. Friday night.
Russell came by tonight. Eddie moved in. D'Arcy had another attack of hysteria over spiders in his room.
Me: (I'm drinking milk.) "You know, milk is kinda nasty, if you think about it." I elaborate a bit.
D'Arcy: "I'll tell you one thing, I'd rather suck a cow's titty than sleep in a room full of spiders!"
Me: (I'm drinking milk.) "You know, milk is kinda nasty, if you think about it." I elaborate a bit.
D'Arcy: "I'll tell you one thing, I'd rather suck a cow's titty than sleep in a room full of spiders!"
First apartment. 1978.
D'Arcy has just taken a shower in our shower without a shower curtain. Kim has been waiting to cook his breakfast. There is some small dispute over whether eggs and sausage should be cooked, or just eggs. D'Arcy insists that Kim cook sausage because she likes it and should eat with him.
Kim and D'Arcy look through some Governor's School stuff and his photo album. Kim goes home to get something for D'Arcy, while he uses her advanced math notes.
I crawl out of bed and go to the bathroom. The floor is wet from the shower. Kim returns with some photos for a project D'Arcy is doing. They must have decided not to eat breakfast. I go back to bed.
"Do you know how to...a parabola...X squared...?
"You've been picking at that scab."
"No I haven't, Mommy!"
"I don't have any clean socks. I'll have to wear these on the floor. They're kinda hard on the bottom. See?"
"Hey man, we'll see you later."
"Alright."
We have slept here two nights and eaten one meal together.
Between 7:30 and 8:30 am.
Kim and D'Arcy look through some Governor's School stuff and his photo album. Kim goes home to get something for D'Arcy, while he uses her advanced math notes.
I crawl out of bed and go to the bathroom. The floor is wet from the shower. Kim returns with some photos for a project D'Arcy is doing. They must have decided not to eat breakfast. I go back to bed.
"Do you know how to...a parabola...X squared...?
"You've been picking at that scab."
"No I haven't, Mommy!"
"I don't have any clean socks. I'll have to wear these on the floor. They're kinda hard on the bottom. See?"
"Hey man, we'll see you later."
"Alright."
We have slept here two nights and eaten one meal together.
Between 7:30 and 8:30 am.
From "Theme Furor."
There are times when not enough
is too much.
And too much is
not enough.
And forever is more than a word -
or is it less than reality?
Or is it a thoughtless, numbing
consumption of daily routines?
Yet, being timeless zombies of a
inescapable sentence,
we find pleasure in the dull 9 to 5,
being under influence
of political views
or a telescopic re-cap
of a neighbor's wife whose
every look is drawn from "dreary,"
to a dedicated apostle
who only hopes to sell
a head, whose mirror image
is exactly what he sees.
Being only human has its benefits, I suppose
yet, life is artificial -
plastic, plastic, glass and steel.
Meaning all is nothing
and nothing, everything
and remembrance is a dirty word
scribbled on the sidewalk, frightening
widowed women with a fate worse than death.
With a fate worse than death.
With a fate worse than death.
With a fate...
is too much.
And too much is
not enough.
And forever is more than a word -
or is it less than reality?
Or is it a thoughtless, numbing
consumption of daily routines?
Yet, being timeless zombies of a
inescapable sentence,
we find pleasure in the dull 9 to 5,
being under influence
of political views
or a telescopic re-cap
of a neighbor's wife whose
every look is drawn from "dreary,"
to a dedicated apostle
who only hopes to sell
a head, whose mirror image
is exactly what he sees.
Being only human has its benefits, I suppose
yet, life is artificial -
plastic, plastic, glass and steel.
Meaning all is nothing
and nothing, everything
and remembrance is a dirty word
scribbled on the sidewalk, frightening
widowed women with a fate worse than death.
With a fate worse than death.
With a fate worse than death.
With a fate...
Tomorrow I Will Not Be Back. From "Peoms (sic)." (The early years)
Time will stand
Life will grow
All the others show.
Turbulent daybreak
Bring about change
Rearrange.
Flying wall flower
Lowering boom
BOOM
All the others too soon.
Bottom unknown
Life in a spoon
Retrospective amendment.
Life will grow
All the others show.
Turbulent daybreak
Bring about change
Rearrange.
Flying wall flower
Lowering boom
BOOM
All the others too soon.
Bottom unknown
Life in a spoon
Retrospective amendment.
All We Know. From "Theme Furor."
Steadfast indignation,
of an incredible force,
dominating entire city blocks,
impregnating the home land,
forwarding a message of profound meaning,
ending in a dazzling production of all we know,
contrived and child-like,
forever to be under our hearts
and closet-present in our minds.
of an incredible force,
dominating entire city blocks,
impregnating the home land,
forwarding a message of profound meaning,
ending in a dazzling production of all we know,
contrived and child-like,
forever to be under our hearts
and closet-present in our minds.
From "Theme Furor."
String along
Life forever
Boy-less bonfire
Axe-man street-walker
Built right lass
Evident rodent
Jet blossom
Be-bop red lips
Table-top dancer
Strung out head-man
Wandering construction
Average OM masses
Lonely leaf-toucher
Touching acid eye
Moving silently
Ending rock life
Bob under-going
Moss connecting
Key-hole essence
Portrayal paint-book
Ever-meaning Amen
Apathetic tender-holder
Strung along.
Life forever
Boy-less bonfire
Axe-man street-walker
Built right lass
Evident rodent
Jet blossom
Be-bop red lips
Table-top dancer
Strung out head-man
Wandering construction
Average OM masses
Lonely leaf-toucher
Touching acid eye
Moving silently
Ending rock life
Bob under-going
Moss connecting
Key-hole essence
Portrayal paint-book
Ever-meaning Amen
Apathetic tender-holder
Strung along.
From "Theme Furor."
A fox of true colours,
standing aloud, beside the Relentless Ink Stream,
in contrast to the grimy forest backdrop.
This is the real world.
And, as the lights go out -
a fox of no colour becomes as one with the Relentless Ink Stream, as it over-flows,
tearing down the grimy forest backdrop and cascading over the edges of the electric earth, until planet and void become inseparable.
And, in the morning - a fox of two tails - one midnight, one noon-day sun - stands atop the skyscraper junk heap and peers out over his domain. He is a kindly king and all love him.
His friend and advisor is the eagle of four wisdoms. He relates to the earthly masses. He oversees the reconstruction of the forest backdrop and has it painted "grimy" so as not to confuse the masses by proclaiming that we live in an antiseptic world.
He feeds upon the mice that feed upon the skyscraper junk heap.
One of his wisdoms tells him that for some to live, others must die. For some to reign, others must slave.
A universal truth is inscribed upon two beer cans and, under his direction, they are tossed into the air.
One remains. The other falls into the Relentless Ink Stream and, with the setting up of the grimy forest backdrop, the process begins anew.
A fox of true colours.
He stands aloud.
And all who see him chant "deja vu" and believe it.
standing aloud, beside the Relentless Ink Stream,
in contrast to the grimy forest backdrop.
This is the real world.
And, as the lights go out -
a fox of no colour becomes as one with the Relentless Ink Stream, as it over-flows,
tearing down the grimy forest backdrop and cascading over the edges of the electric earth, until planet and void become inseparable.
And, in the morning - a fox of two tails - one midnight, one noon-day sun - stands atop the skyscraper junk heap and peers out over his domain. He is a kindly king and all love him.
His friend and advisor is the eagle of four wisdoms. He relates to the earthly masses. He oversees the reconstruction of the forest backdrop and has it painted "grimy" so as not to confuse the masses by proclaiming that we live in an antiseptic world.
He feeds upon the mice that feed upon the skyscraper junk heap.
One of his wisdoms tells him that for some to live, others must die. For some to reign, others must slave.
A universal truth is inscribed upon two beer cans and, under his direction, they are tossed into the air.
One remains. The other falls into the Relentless Ink Stream and, with the setting up of the grimy forest backdrop, the process begins anew.
A fox of true colours.
He stands aloud.
And all who see him chant "deja vu" and believe it.
Night Traveling. From "Theme Furor."
Tall in the shadow
Trip-monger fool-hard
Time light lights
Feel forth ringing
Low-flung modernizer
Beyond gifted
Digging up-write
Morning bottle-snatcher
Evening doom-digger
Forever forth-with
Meaning "bum-doodle"
Tomorrow's time-man
Feeling good-right
Weird dark mountain
Capt. Frightbird
Being under-bound
Promoting sell-darkness
Meaning nothing.
Trip-monger fool-hard
Time light lights
Feel forth ringing
Low-flung modernizer
Beyond gifted
Digging up-write
Morning bottle-snatcher
Evening doom-digger
Forever forth-with
Meaning "bum-doodle"
Tomorrow's time-man
Feeling good-right
Weird dark mountain
Capt. Frightbird
Being under-bound
Promoting sell-darkness
Meaning nothing.
From "Theme Furor."
Uneasy meaning
sliding a continuous fortress
unnerving
battle under grey wind
blown grey, grey, grey.
Mention of sickly embattlements
untold nightly starless.
Daily sun-hider
hidden forever
forever
and ending
and going
tomorrow 'til
noon-time temptation
knocked down lover
meaning "scamper."
For lover, all whitened
all greenish, blackened partner
under greenish ruler, for excellence of expression.
Of not worthwhile.
Of bitter-sweet.
Then skimming top-bottom
forever and under
a man.
sliding a continuous fortress
unnerving
battle under grey wind
blown grey, grey, grey.
Mention of sickly embattlements
untold nightly starless.
Daily sun-hider
hidden forever
forever
and ending
and going
tomorrow 'til
noon-time temptation
knocked down lover
meaning "scamper."
For lover, all whitened
all greenish, blackened partner
under greenish ruler, for excellence of expression.
Of not worthwhile.
Of bitter-sweet.
Then skimming top-bottom
forever and under
a man.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The What.
"You know quite well, deep within you, that there is only a single magic, a single power, a single salvation...and that is called loving."
Herman Hesse
"All you need is love."
Lennon and McCartney
Herman Hesse
"All you need is love."
Lennon and McCartney
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
1979?
"...I love you."
Silence and holding.
"Did you have an orgasm?" She climbs on top of me, kissing me wildly, caressing me. It means "oh, yes!" She has a hard time expressing herself verbally, when emotions are involved - but I insist.
"Did you?"
"Of course. Why do you have to ask?"
"Well, because some girls...well, I want you to feel good, too. I care about you."
I feel like I use that phrase too much. It's just that she thinks "love" is too heavy for us right now, so I substitute "care" in normal conversation and only use "love" spontaneously.
"You'll have to let me lie flat." She's been having a problem with her back for, I guess, over a week, now. She thinks it's got something to do with some medication she's been prescribed. A side effect.
"Are you on the pill?"
"Yeah."
"I hope I didn't make you mad or anything."
"No, it's just - it's just that you never bothered to ask before. Now's a great time to ask. What if I had said no?"
"I did make you mad. I'm really sorry - really I am. I know that was rotten of me. But, if you had said "no", I would have suggested that we begin taking precautionary measures."
"This is the only form of birth control, besides abstinence, that I'll use."
"Condoms are 99% safe."
"Yeah, but I don't like them."
"Yeah, I don't either. Look, you've got to see a doctor about your back."
"It's like I keep saying: I can't get an appointment. And besides, I'm afraid he'll take me off the pill - and I really don't want that."
"Why?"
"You know why. I don't want to get pregnant. And I'd never even consider an abortion. It goes against my religion."
"What would you do if you got pregnant?"
'You'd never know about it. I'd move away and raise the baby as best I could. I wouldn't tell anyone. Not even my parents. They'd kill me."
"Listen, one reason I didn't ask about the pill until now is, well, I sort of took it for granted that you were on it. You know, because you're in nursing school and all."
'Yeah, I'm not stupid, but it's dangerous to take things for granted."
"I guess... Listen, I'm gonna buy you some cream for your back. You never know, it might help."
"OK."
Silence and holding.
"Did you have an orgasm?" She climbs on top of me, kissing me wildly, caressing me. It means "oh, yes!" She has a hard time expressing herself verbally, when emotions are involved - but I insist.
"Did you?"
"Of course. Why do you have to ask?"
"Well, because some girls...well, I want you to feel good, too. I care about you."
I feel like I use that phrase too much. It's just that she thinks "love" is too heavy for us right now, so I substitute "care" in normal conversation and only use "love" spontaneously.
"You'll have to let me lie flat." She's been having a problem with her back for, I guess, over a week, now. She thinks it's got something to do with some medication she's been prescribed. A side effect.
"Are you on the pill?"
"Yeah."
"I hope I didn't make you mad or anything."
"No, it's just - it's just that you never bothered to ask before. Now's a great time to ask. What if I had said no?"
"I did make you mad. I'm really sorry - really I am. I know that was rotten of me. But, if you had said "no", I would have suggested that we begin taking precautionary measures."
"This is the only form of birth control, besides abstinence, that I'll use."
"Condoms are 99% safe."
"Yeah, but I don't like them."
"Yeah, I don't either. Look, you've got to see a doctor about your back."
"It's like I keep saying: I can't get an appointment. And besides, I'm afraid he'll take me off the pill - and I really don't want that."
"Why?"
"You know why. I don't want to get pregnant. And I'd never even consider an abortion. It goes against my religion."
"What would you do if you got pregnant?"
'You'd never know about it. I'd move away and raise the baby as best I could. I wouldn't tell anyone. Not even my parents. They'd kill me."
"Listen, one reason I didn't ask about the pill until now is, well, I sort of took it for granted that you were on it. You know, because you're in nursing school and all."
'Yeah, I'm not stupid, but it's dangerous to take things for granted."
"I guess... Listen, I'm gonna buy you some cream for your back. You never know, it might help."
"OK."
Monday, March 15, 2010
Razor Cliffs
Far beyond the limits of mere mortal vision,
from any earthly point where man could firmly plant his feet,
lie the Razor Cliffs.
from any earthly point where man could firmly plant his feet,
lie the Razor Cliffs.
From "Peoms (sic)." (The early years.)
Running backward.
Running forward.
Running.
Sitting among the cool green of the forest -
doing nothing.
Running forward.
Running.
Sitting among the cool green of the forest -
doing nothing.
From "Peoms (sic)." (The early years.)
Thunder bloom.
Rain life.
Cool existence.
Pond water evening.
Rain life.
Cool existence.
Pond water evening.
From "Peoms (sic)." (The early years.)
Turn around.
Short air breathing.
Time breathless.
Light unseeing.
Ringing songstress.
Leading while-maker.
Rose unbending.
Lifted part-time.
Leaning under.
Part round lightening.
Endless day-keeper.
Greenish briarwood.
Arrow distortion.
Baked handle shining.
Carpet dimension.
Chrome love hunter.
Short air breathing.
Time breathless.
Light unseeing.
Ringing songstress.
Leading while-maker.
Rose unbending.
Lifted part-time.
Leaning under.
Part round lightening.
Endless day-keeper.
Greenish briarwood.
Arrow distortion.
Baked handle shining.
Carpet dimension.
Chrome love hunter.
From "Peoms (sic)." (The early years.)
Much
tomorrow
day
when
slide
tree
butler
butter
winter
turkey
ape
Monday
fling
zip
robber
zen
time
dream
land
fantasy
ring
green
lamp
tip
however
trunk
leg
trip
cart
car
mobile
person
wing
dog
Persian
Atlantis
more
most
horse-race
time-keeper
clock
buster
horn
apple
cult
yellow
white
wring
grass
apricot
story
billion
agriculture
machinery
D'Arcy
friend
seen
tapestry
cigarettes
filter
wine
holocaust
bomb
expenditure
lithograph
folks
home
kid
crystal ball
bike
willow
cry
sea
genesis.
tomorrow
day
when
slide
tree
butler
butter
winter
turkey
ape
Monday
fling
zip
robber
zen
time
dream
land
fantasy
ring
green
lamp
tip
however
trunk
leg
trip
cart
car
mobile
person
wing
dog
Persian
Atlantis
more
most
horse-race
time-keeper
clock
buster
horn
apple
cult
yellow
white
wring
grass
apricot
story
billion
agriculture
machinery
D'Arcy
friend
seen
tapestry
cigarettes
filter
wine
holocaust
bomb
expenditure
lithograph
folks
home
kid
crystal ball
bike
willow
cry
sea
genesis.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Tuesday August 22, 1978 (approximately 10:30 pm) Binghamton, N.Y.
The bus is bumping and I can hardly write. I am also high, and therefore can hardly write. D'Arcy just finished off all of the provisions - only about 3 hours into a 25 hour trip.
One of the packages his grandmother made was cookies wrapped in a plastic bag in a cardboard box, which (interruption: D'Arcy just proposed that I write about French people riding elephants down the streets of London on Halloween in 1803 - with everyone screaming something to the effect of Napoleon Bonaparte being an asshole, selling Louisiana to Thomas Jefferson...) was taped and in a bag which was taped and tied. It nearly blew his mind. He was also high.
(Another interruption? No, he's not ready. "Not on the right plane" as Russell would say.)
D'Arcy's grandmother made these huge cookies that looked like huge biscuits. She gave us each a cheese sandwich. When she asked us what we wanted on our sandwiches, D'Arcy told her he wanted mayonnaise and I wanted mustard. I don't like mustard on cheese, so I figured he knew that I didn't want a sandwich, so he ordered one of each, for himself. That way his grandmother wouldn't worry about me starving. When he mentioned in the bus station about us munching down on the bus, I told him that I didn't want a sandwich. "You don't want a sandwich?" he asked. I told him again that I didn't want a sandwich. "Well, why did you get mustard, then? I don't like mustard. That means a whole sandwich is going to be wasted." He ate his sandwich. Later, still hungry (he's always hungry) he decided to try to eat the mustard sandwich. Well, upon inspection, he discovers that it's the mayo sandwich and he had already eaten the mustard one without even noticing. I said "See, both sandwiches were intended for you."
Our first bus driver said, over the PA, after we had been on the road for a while, "How about you gentlemen put away that pot or get off the bus." Now, at that point, we weren't high. There was one guy in the back with us who was high. He was a Cornell student. Scored 1400 on his SATs and was a linebacker on the football team. The driver repeated his warning several times, so D'Arcy, who had been smoking some foreign cigarettes - Sher Bidis - took the pack up to him and said that maybe this is what he had been smelling. He came back to his seat and we each fired up a Sher Bidi.
The driver repeated his announcement.
We got off at Binghamton and smoked a joint on the street corner with the guy from Cornell. When we transferred to the second bus, the new driver said to us, "You're not the guys that have been smoking pot, are you?"
"No sir!"
As the bus was pulling out, the driver said,"No smoking of pipes, cigars or POT, in the restricted seats." A roar of unbelieving laughter erupted among us three. Our notoriety had proceeded us.
One of the packages his grandmother made was cookies wrapped in a plastic bag in a cardboard box, which (interruption: D'Arcy just proposed that I write about French people riding elephants down the streets of London on Halloween in 1803 - with everyone screaming something to the effect of Napoleon Bonaparte being an asshole, selling Louisiana to Thomas Jefferson...) was taped and in a bag which was taped and tied. It nearly blew his mind. He was also high.
(Another interruption? No, he's not ready. "Not on the right plane" as Russell would say.)
D'Arcy's grandmother made these huge cookies that looked like huge biscuits. She gave us each a cheese sandwich. When she asked us what we wanted on our sandwiches, D'Arcy told her he wanted mayonnaise and I wanted mustard. I don't like mustard on cheese, so I figured he knew that I didn't want a sandwich, so he ordered one of each, for himself. That way his grandmother wouldn't worry about me starving. When he mentioned in the bus station about us munching down on the bus, I told him that I didn't want a sandwich. "You don't want a sandwich?" he asked. I told him again that I didn't want a sandwich. "Well, why did you get mustard, then? I don't like mustard. That means a whole sandwich is going to be wasted." He ate his sandwich. Later, still hungry (he's always hungry) he decided to try to eat the mustard sandwich. Well, upon inspection, he discovers that it's the mayo sandwich and he had already eaten the mustard one without even noticing. I said "See, both sandwiches were intended for you."
Our first bus driver said, over the PA, after we had been on the road for a while, "How about you gentlemen put away that pot or get off the bus." Now, at that point, we weren't high. There was one guy in the back with us who was high. He was a Cornell student. Scored 1400 on his SATs and was a linebacker on the football team. The driver repeated his warning several times, so D'Arcy, who had been smoking some foreign cigarettes - Sher Bidis - took the pack up to him and said that maybe this is what he had been smelling. He came back to his seat and we each fired up a Sher Bidi.
The driver repeated his announcement.
We got off at Binghamton and smoked a joint on the street corner with the guy from Cornell. When we transferred to the second bus, the new driver said to us, "You're not the guys that have been smoking pot, are you?"
"No sir!"
As the bus was pulling out, the driver said,"No smoking of pipes, cigars or POT, in the restricted seats." A roar of unbelieving laughter erupted among us three. Our notoriety had proceeded us.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Potential code names (women).
Sister Obdulla X
Sister Ray
Mad Donna
Polka Dot
Lady Day
Little Miss Dangerous
Magenta
The Real Roxanne
Sister Midnight
Buick Mackane
Penny Lane
Miss Moneypenny
Holly Goodnight
Wicked Wanda
Sister Ray
Mad Donna
Polka Dot
Lady Day
Little Miss Dangerous
Magenta
The Real Roxanne
Sister Midnight
Buick Mackane
Penny Lane
Miss Moneypenny
Holly Goodnight
Wicked Wanda
Potential code names (men).
2000 Man
Back Door Man
Jet Boy
21st Century Boy
Bogus
Rude Boy
Metal Guru
Telegram Sam
Problem Child
Wild Child
Thing Fish
Ziggy Stardust
Wicked Lester
Iron Man
Rebel Rebel
Redneck Buddha
Blank Frank
Mannish Boy
Bilbo Baggins
Jean Genie
Private Idaho
Hollow Man
Mistah Kurtz
Dr. No
Wilbur Wilcox
Izzy Izborn
Rabbit Fighter
Mad Hatter
Mock Turtle
Cheshire Cat
Blue Turk
Riff Raff
Back Door Man
Jet Boy
21st Century Boy
Bogus
Rude Boy
Metal Guru
Telegram Sam
Problem Child
Wild Child
Thing Fish
Ziggy Stardust
Wicked Lester
Iron Man
Rebel Rebel
Redneck Buddha
Blank Frank
Mannish Boy
Bilbo Baggins
Jean Genie
Private Idaho
Hollow Man
Mistah Kurtz
Dr. No
Wilbur Wilcox
Izzy Izborn
Rabbit Fighter
Mad Hatter
Mock Turtle
Cheshire Cat
Blue Turk
Riff Raff
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The old guy I work with.
The old guy I work with asked the young guy I work with why he was "dragging in" one morning. Then he said, "That thing will suck the marrer rat out yer back bone." Followed by, "You'll turn that plate over and it'll be lookin' you rat in the face."
Me and the young dude just looked at each other as if to say WTF?
WTF, indeed.
I never know what he's talking about. Today, he was telling a long, rambling story about his misspent youth. About how when he went to school, instead going to class, he "farred the baller" all day.
I finally figured out that he was saying "fired the boiler."
One day he was talking about someone named Maholley. "Who?" I asked. He replied, "Maholley! Maholley! The president! Maholley!"
He thinks the president's name is Maholley.
He thinks Ms. Winfrey's name is Opal. Of course, that's better than getting Maholley from Obama.
He's really annoying, but picking on him is like shooting fish in a barrel.
I'll conclude this with one of his favorite expressions: "It's like throwin' money up a wild hog's ass and hollerin' sooey!"
Me and the young dude just looked at each other as if to say WTF?
WTF, indeed.
I never know what he's talking about. Today, he was telling a long, rambling story about his misspent youth. About how when he went to school, instead going to class, he "farred the baller" all day.
I finally figured out that he was saying "fired the boiler."
One day he was talking about someone named Maholley. "Who?" I asked. He replied, "Maholley! Maholley! The president! Maholley!"
He thinks the president's name is Maholley.
He thinks Ms. Winfrey's name is Opal. Of course, that's better than getting Maholley from Obama.
He's really annoying, but picking on him is like shooting fish in a barrel.
I'll conclude this with one of his favorite expressions: "It's like throwin' money up a wild hog's ass and hollerin' sooey!"
Monday, March 8, 2010
Jarod Reactor
...and so, Jarod Reactor slipped silently into his big city, techno-colored thrill-seeker's apartment and, dropping to his hands and knees, proceeded to crawl across the mirror sheen of his cold, hard tile. When he reached the plush, white carpet, by the picture window of night, he lay flat on his back/on his back/on his back and made love to the only being who understood him (at least sexually): himself.
His mind had mutinied years ago, so it came as no surprise/as no shock/no revulsion/no celebration. The rhythm was there - the big drums. Pounding. Pounding. I am the one Jarod Reactor. I am the one.
She had been an alien. A small alien. Perhaps large. He had sucked her into his body and never looked back.
MOTION.
Days and awesome nights plunging mouth first into death and sex. He pulled on his star pants and spit in his hand.
Bathing now in his opiate, Jarod Reactor shut down. The world began the strenuous task of turning without him.
When two worlds nearly collide, life is on your side. Side step. Sleep with a big hat on. Leap about in a green space and wrestle grace from those who would hoard it.
Reactor! Shipwright of the happening, hard-bodied dream-spinners - slamming head-long into the gleaming spires of reckoning. A devil that never was. A task master divine. New age prophet - and yet, not.
MOTION.
Mock-heroic gestures, implying insight and action.
She speaks in his gut and he holds his hands over his ears and twists and silently screams.
MOTION.
He is chrome-plated and twice as hard as steel. His car has no wheels. He drives it by feel. He doesn't stop for long - this particular Reactor.
Crystal blue eyes stare down at him. In his mirrors are thousands - perhaps millions - of reflections.
Lightning quick and thunder thick - he grinds.
MOTION.
(Sugar sweet and so complete.)
And then Jarod Reactor - topsy-turvy, spiritually disintegrated and reprocessed - marched in a rectangular pattern - over and over - gradually losing the sharp angles until it was an oval path - stopping only when his entire being screamed for him to do so.
The room immediately filled with thickness and death's breath. He had expected as much.
Then he: dropped down, turned around, looked to the roof-tops and prayed a modern prayer. He felt singed and complete - jump-started and "neat." He was movement until there was no movement. Electric and fluid. Space-age Druid.
MOTION.
Pressure, pressure everywhere. His thumbs were red. It made no sense. Somewhere, women cried unceasingly. Sleek and graphic, his life slipped by.
This sticky reality slapped him with no real force. No obvious purpose. No notable effect.
He had conversed with a friend. He swam the bloody waters of "living" and dragged himself upon the lifeless shore.
Jarod looked through the bones to see the horizon. Some tiny voice inside of him screamed "LIFE" at the top of its pitifully small lungs.
"Yes!" he thought.
"Yes!" he said.
Reactor lived in a place that wasn't his home. There were tiny points of light, everywhere, over head. You take them for granted. One takes everything for granted.
Get real! Stop and look and listen to a world more fantastic than imaginable. Awe inspiring? It'd better be.
Strip, flip, stack the bricks and lift up. And up. Design and create. Don't let it defeat you. Twirling around under a big, white, hot sun, until you fall in a dizzy heap. "Yes!" he said.
We climbed that ladder for its "yes."
Say "yes" to "yes."
Yes.
His mind had mutinied years ago, so it came as no surprise/as no shock/no revulsion/no celebration. The rhythm was there - the big drums. Pounding. Pounding. I am the one Jarod Reactor. I am the one.
She had been an alien. A small alien. Perhaps large. He had sucked her into his body and never looked back.
MOTION.
Days and awesome nights plunging mouth first into death and sex. He pulled on his star pants and spit in his hand.
Bathing now in his opiate, Jarod Reactor shut down. The world began the strenuous task of turning without him.
When two worlds nearly collide, life is on your side. Side step. Sleep with a big hat on. Leap about in a green space and wrestle grace from those who would hoard it.
Reactor! Shipwright of the happening, hard-bodied dream-spinners - slamming head-long into the gleaming spires of reckoning. A devil that never was. A task master divine. New age prophet - and yet, not.
MOTION.
Mock-heroic gestures, implying insight and action.
She speaks in his gut and he holds his hands over his ears and twists and silently screams.
MOTION.
He is chrome-plated and twice as hard as steel. His car has no wheels. He drives it by feel. He doesn't stop for long - this particular Reactor.
Crystal blue eyes stare down at him. In his mirrors are thousands - perhaps millions - of reflections.
Lightning quick and thunder thick - he grinds.
MOTION.
(Sugar sweet and so complete.)
And then Jarod Reactor - topsy-turvy, spiritually disintegrated and reprocessed - marched in a rectangular pattern - over and over - gradually losing the sharp angles until it was an oval path - stopping only when his entire being screamed for him to do so.
The room immediately filled with thickness and death's breath. He had expected as much.
Then he: dropped down, turned around, looked to the roof-tops and prayed a modern prayer. He felt singed and complete - jump-started and "neat." He was movement until there was no movement. Electric and fluid. Space-age Druid.
MOTION.
Pressure, pressure everywhere. His thumbs were red. It made no sense. Somewhere, women cried unceasingly. Sleek and graphic, his life slipped by.
This sticky reality slapped him with no real force. No obvious purpose. No notable effect.
He had conversed with a friend. He swam the bloody waters of "living" and dragged himself upon the lifeless shore.
Jarod looked through the bones to see the horizon. Some tiny voice inside of him screamed "LIFE" at the top of its pitifully small lungs.
"Yes!" he thought.
"Yes!" he said.
Reactor lived in a place that wasn't his home. There were tiny points of light, everywhere, over head. You take them for granted. One takes everything for granted.
Get real! Stop and look and listen to a world more fantastic than imaginable. Awe inspiring? It'd better be.
Strip, flip, stack the bricks and lift up. And up. Design and create. Don't let it defeat you. Twirling around under a big, white, hot sun, until you fall in a dizzy heap. "Yes!" he said.
We climbed that ladder for its "yes."
Say "yes" to "yes."
Yes.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Dream June 2003.
I had a dream, once, that I was looking out of a window at night and the sky was filled(!) with UFOs. It was like an enormous invasion, but they were silently drifting along and they were covered in twinkling white lights.
As they disappeared into the horizon, I was still standing there, in awe, looking out into the night. At that point I heard someone playing a harmonica, in the otherwise still darkness. It got louder and louder and then I saw them. There were two clowns walking through my yard. One was sort of average in size, while the second one was bigger and taller. The big tall one was playing the harmonica.
My ex-wife B. was in the bedroom with me. I'm often still married to her in my dreams. She came to the window to see who was there. I closed and locked it and told her to get down and be quiet. Those clowns were evil.
As we sat silently on the floor in the darkness, the bedroom door creaked open a bit and a small gremlin-like creature peered through the crack and said, in a high-pitched, gravelly voice, "Open the door!"
I woke up.
As they disappeared into the horizon, I was still standing there, in awe, looking out into the night. At that point I heard someone playing a harmonica, in the otherwise still darkness. It got louder and louder and then I saw them. There were two clowns walking through my yard. One was sort of average in size, while the second one was bigger and taller. The big tall one was playing the harmonica.
My ex-wife B. was in the bedroom with me. I'm often still married to her in my dreams. She came to the window to see who was there. I closed and locked it and told her to get down and be quiet. Those clowns were evil.
As we sat silently on the floor in the darkness, the bedroom door creaked open a bit and a small gremlin-like creature peered through the crack and said, in a high-pitched, gravelly voice, "Open the door!"
I woke up.
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