Rupert aka 'Bumpy Bugger' Bumpers R.I.P.

on a number of levels this graphic both works for me and offends me and if you got a minute i'll tell you whatfor.

graphic on the left has a perceived terrorperson with a white AK47 and ski mask fighting for their reason from behind a rubber baby buggy bumper shooting at graphic on the right where you have a perceived terrorperson with a black M16 and hard hat fighting for their reason from in front of a rubber baby buggy bumper shooting at the graphic on the left la la la ad nauseum...

this is an unfair justification to shoot at rubber baby buggy bumpers.

i GET IT already. painfully so.
and so do all the other rubber baby buggy bumpers.

to put a stop to it just wiggle your nose three times, click your heels together and you're there. see how easy that is now what's for supper?

i scream for ice cream.

yaaayyy!!!

ming's meow?

...a top drawer example of excellence and fastidiousness routinely fashioned and groomed to a fine cutting edge...

"Man this shit is the ming's meow."

tried to post this on urbandictionary.com and they decided i've done enough for one year. see zingpow for the skinny. don't know why they claim my email address is invalid when they sent the notice of publication to that address.
think the public needs to know just what the hell the ming's meow actually is because all blade managers know that a fine edge will cut with just a breath of air.

Little Cauliflower

baby's back dressed in black no longer intact and that's a fact. today she's home from the horsepistol with a sore gut, fuzzy thinking and bad breath. she's my baby girl.

anthropomorphised

with misplaced sadness and heavy heart the light of my day and the night of my dark will be presented for surgery posthaste in the morning

mope I will for my leetle Bon Bon

and

will not I rest till the deed is done



i said that...

grueling for naught

Go ahead stop okay enough now bite my shorts please we're even so go pick on somebody smaller than you somewhere else or better yet go pick on somebody bigger than you as usual and as usual get your brain handed to you on a bun see where that gets you so go ahead stop already okay?
I mean that's all I'm sayin just why is itit just won't stop? when these fucking tribal dissonances sanding out stains in the carpets...? over and over for the sake of it since it's part of the fabric of foreverwar and like it or not my god's better than your god so fuck you bang you're dead if you don't like it for the last twenty hundred something daftillion years or so like when Yellowstone blows her top after the National Geo Special last Tuesday and we're bathing in searing hot ash laden rain that closely resembles searing hot flash laden mud is that when? Huh? I don't know either but I'm keeping my flashlight loaded too just in case just in case and resign myself to reality once again.

there's always yesterday supposedly

well hell yeah it's the fucking new year and a big whoop goes up and happy as a pig in shit to be here again one never knows when that damn bell tolls just ask around thems that dont know so might as well be here for it am i right no?


on the other foot there's always days after yesterdays to sort this sort of thing out and if that dont work for you then you dont need my dog since she can fix most anything as well as take it apart right in front of you so she knows where my graycells grows and it's so tomorrow so she knows where not to look as if that's important today except what you need now is likely not what she has in mind in the mean time.

my dog is a good dog

clambering over the bodies

... so it goes, another holiday shot, shived and shoved, pushed aside, in a glide, diced, sliced and iced to make room for another as the band plays on bing bang bong.

the years are blurring like a reflection in the subway windows as it careens through the 42nd street station at 78 mph and i can't get on and i can't get off, just riding it out too tired to care in this winter of my discontent with no meaning as i age away and as usual... so it goes.

nippled & dyned to deaf

if it aint one thing it's another first it's hot then it's cold then it's hot. and then it's hot and then it's not and then it is. man this is taking it's toll this back and forth tittytatty bangbang because the yard already needs re-painting and the sky's burned out and needs a new one and my feet are old all the trees have all called in nude and headed to re-education camps & i'm sick and tired of being sick and tired of this heart of darkness morality play that keeps careening round and round my brainpan dodging clots while the dogs bay themselves to sleep without consideration for those of us emerging from the pool armed & ready and well shitfire that fucker needs a paint job too come to think of it better get on it.

hellifino this is expensive this always something never a dull laugh or cry oh well and ride the grey dog on out a here live to ride ride to live lucy i'm home moment but still...... what would be the point if you can't stand still long enough to find out?

'splain that.

from the subliminal to the subdural

this time of year disturbs me like a spike in sun spots and other solar activity that fucks with the tidal basins in my head disturbs me. i tell an old friend how i hate christmas and laugh. he says you do not and laughs. i chuckle back and say oh yes i do. then we change the subject and the elevator music plays on and the crowd is nice meanwhile the troops are not home yet godammit and now everybody in the world knows how to throw a grenade at the president and the next guy coming in is an african american born on the islands and shoots hoops and is under glass and covered from every manhole and rooftop and three piece suit in towns everywhere and i catch a whiff of the christmas tree lots as i drive by and remember the good old days and how i hate christmas now because they're charging 150+ bucks for that damn 4 foot farm raised fir and they stick it in sugar water for 3 weeks and sit around and ooh and aah it to death and drag it to the dump after the new year ambushed your sorry ass again as per usual and begins the slow crawl through january and fuck here we go.
shit.
i cant hardly wait for next summer so i can look forward to next winter and think about those christmas trees that remind me of my youth when we couldnt wait for next christmas during next summer. bah!
i hate christmas. no really.

oogedy-boogedy

so i'm kinda like a Wednesday opening on my busy shedyule this week will have mines call ya'lls and make it so eh? hot spicey noodles for lunch sound fartingly good what's not to like? and will leave room for fried greased supper-aramabamadingdong for balance mere hours later oooh baby oooh...


re:
best thing about people like Hank Giroux is that you can read their stuff, ponder their stuff and ignore their stuff without fear of an eraser being thrown at your nodding off forehead knocking out your stuff or miss anything else new for that matter in the comfort of your own home at the same time and stuff.

...alas learning critical thinking is a choice sadly enough like a career flinging shit.

however ol' stick as you know, me thunks crit think skills are essential to staying above the fray which is where the clearer visions are unless of course ok is good enough which is whatever feels good but the biological awareness of an uppity selfdom is still a serious focal point and leg up in understanding the point of it all anyway without being utterly ridiculous and mired in mind-numbing soul-sucking haircut boredom and just ok know what i mean?


watch more history channel or else.


bwoohahahaz

2 to 4 bits worth

Just what this country needs; a good war and a 5 cent cigar.

ha! thesesillyassholes...put everybody to work for the military-industrial complex making munitions for a better mummers world and a soup kithchen for the homies and their friends my friends, the muzzle of a gun is the only way to run a railroad because we're not here to introduce the local flora and fauna to the joy and freedom of democracy people, we're here to enforce the democracy people and if that means state sponsored terrorism in the name of democracy my friends then bygoodgod almighty come on down, we'll just do it and never mind the founding fathers and some vision of Camelot with a side of beef in every pot posing for a Norman Rockwell painting under some carpet bombs from 30,000 feet and never warned about.




this calls for another brigade strength phalanx of suicide for effect, Mr. Gridley, you may fire when ready.

damn the mosquitoes, full speed to dead.

catch 'em next time.

meanwhile--- slinc er slim and life's too short and we're all fucked anyway so might as well roll over and go back to sleep.

the alarm goes off soon enough.

away all boats...

Well today think is the day I arrived screaming pink with stink under hot lights and Mozart banging on the 88's in the background some many moons ago.

So far this life has been fun. No point in complaining because it's all been said before so it's pointless to be unhappy. I get depressed maybe since the world really is so very fucked up but I got this life and that's what counts in the final analysis.

Life after death? meh, don't buy it. Dead is dead and the longer I stay out of the ohbee's the better I like it because Bob happens and that includes the hospitals because there aint nobody in there except fucking sick people who are for the most part dying and who needs that? WTF! I mean... how can you rest in peace if there's some heavenly choir singing all the time and jumping up and down on the bed and stuff? I mean really... Repose is repose and it's under the daisies da tra la la.

End of story.

Happy Birthday to Myself and I...

and God loves Me too

The day of Turkely's Trepridation

One of the better t-days in recent years being only me and the wifey, the moms and the little evil doggie present for the usual bird, cranberries, yams and beat down spuds replete with gravy, greenbean almondine, bread of corned innards and chased by punkin pie, chilled water and tea. It was a short and sweet event geared toward minimal aggravation with maximum results and it worked and set a new benchmark for the next several encounters.

The moms has forgotten my wife of 29 years and most everything else in the last 10. My stress levels are more manageable due to her declining cognitive abilities because I'm getting used to it now that it's measurable and tangible like the sun going down or the moon going by or the river running dry. My wife provides a lot of interference for me as we advance into the haze for she has the soft touch of an angel and smooths it all out while I watch mi madre auger in and as she augers she thinks my wife is some nice young lady that just hangs around with me and the dog which is, as long as I don't have to further explain anything again, fine with me, never mind the grandchildren and the great one on the way.

a grinding flash

...and so it goes and goes and goes... a fine day to contemplate navels and practice dogspeak. Bonster is 6 months and draws a crowd everywhere she shows. if I could bottle puppycute I would be rich.

but money aint everything and although it helps it's the devil's work to disdain the finer things that money can't buy for a life of toil toil bubble and boil. one may gain feduciary advantage by striving for wealth but one will also lose the soul in the process and hence any chance of being happy. I think happy trumps monied everytime.

To my working class relatives: I have no use for your misery or your sorryass attitude.

obtuse indolence

this occurred to me last night during the counting of votes and it kept me up too late...

today however dawned in a superb sort of way somehow no different than any other day in it's typical unfolding but there was a lightness of mood while mired in the traffic because after all we're in this together and McPalin can go away now and we can get on with it.

so i dare not speculate on the outcome of this knife fight raging across our living rooms. i can only say i'm glad these 2 candy dates got every body's attention deficit disorder's attention and they all went voting and brought guns to the knife fight but will it restore my faith in these idiots we call 'mericans to do the right fucking thing for a change and go about taking the Constitution back or will everybody continue to continue... doin de doot dee doo?

only the shadows know...

but that's what they want see. resistance is futile. who was it said "If they can get you to ask the wrong questions then they don't have to give you the right answers."? that's how they control us you know. them. them guys. thems. misinformation and chaos wrapped inside a smooth outer layer of chaos and misinformation thems. you know, those guys that run it. the machine. the ones akilling us. the thems dammit! i hope like hell nobody burns down the hood somewhere tonight dancing to the Riots. omyfuckingawd r u kidn me? it could happen because of them. again. dammit man!

by the way, it was one mark twain said that about the future, i merely quoted him sorry but nevertheless, a fine observation with a straight face eh? we will indeed spend the rest of our lives there. the one about questions and answers was written by pynchon and observed by one of his characters in a novel of some repute so don't shoot me, i'm just the conduit in this whore house. yow! bring me a little lyre. dada boom. check's in the mail. ha. i don't even know your wife. wooo wooo

so this duck walks into a bar right and asks if they serve grapes. bartender says no and the duck says do you serve ducks. bartender says no get out of here. duck leaves but comes back a little while later and hops up to the bar and asks if they serve grapes. bartender looks up and says no. do you serve ducks says the duck. no says the bartender get out of here. i told you, we don't serve grapes and we don't serve ducks. duck leaves. sometime later duck walks into the bar, hops up to the counter and asks if they serve duck. bartender says yeah, what'll you have? duck says duck sandwich. bartender says with mayo? duck says no, with grapes. bartender says says no we don't serve ducks get outa here. duck says but all i wanted was a grape. this went on for a time and then a horse walked in and ordered a beer. he was nuzzling the foam a few minutes later when the duck hopped up on the bar ahead of the bartender and says to the horse so what's with the long face? horse says they don't serve grapes and the duck says yeah i know, they don't serve ducks either.

pie r squared

So here it is, fall falling and the late light hitting just about right along with air temperature that would fatten anybody if they could bottle it and bonnydog and me just getting it here in one spot taking it in like moon beams on a rainy night only it aint raining and it aint dark and bonny don't care about it anyway 'cuz she's my Leetle Bon Bon and don't eat pie nope and the rest of the story is my idiot nephew is just that and his parents are like a double shot of stupido and the whole motherfucker has consumed my shorts.

Mel's Rule

... imparts that delicate smokey flavor and texture found only in the charred remains of grass-eaters in from the all day de-worming project and brought to you by thoughtful smokers thereof and by smokers I refer to the masters of the smoke arts and drip pan handlers guild who know a thing or two about burned flesh.

... love is a many splintered thing

Please have fun in spite of yourself, now of course. Still working on it myself and figure if one works 40 years and retires @ 57 years of age then one has only had fun for around 17 years counting nights and weekends.
So the goal now is to have more fun fun than fun work fun even if the fun fun part is boring and under funded. ha...!

Never found a fun job zakly except the summer of '67 when working on the Lakeway marina was a 17 year old's wet dream. Or maybe liberty somewhere in some exotic swamp away from the ship a few years later. Whatever. I forget. Everything else has been scything under the sun. Gimme a ship and a star to steer by or barring that, a non-crisis weekend in the shade while the steaks are browning on the barbi, Miles is on the box and everything's right in the world all the live long day. Right?

Mels Rule baeebuuh!!!

... but then there are events beyond me: a young family member with a chip on his head decided to defy conventional wisdom and used up his luck when he wrecked 5 cars and knocked up his teenage bitch slut person. El Kid owes money for the next 100 years and the child aint even been born. He's really a bigger idiot than his parents will admit and he's only 21 going on 0. Meanwhile he admits sirehood for the time being of said bastard child stepping up and admitting publicly that he fucked his girl friend in front of his parents.
I'm screaming for a timeout and it aint even my fucking problem, even a little bit except there will be another death in the family soon enough and calling for pat-tests to make sure who's going to pay for this paint job is the only thing to do.

Ike clination like yo

the guys over at FEMA slay me. the coast is beat to shit, people's done down in the dumps over dis. yo!
local storm help is spread pretty thin what with the motherfucking war and all using up the help @. yo!
and away we go mumbling into the next room content in the shades of day while all the while at bay.
yo!

in leu of monsters...

...Bonster got her growed up shots the other day and her tag and everthing so now she's 4 months into the growed dog's life. she seems to enjoy being a dog so far as far as a dog can be observed to be enjoying itself in the general clatter and hubbub of your mind and doesn't seem to harbour any regrets for past crimes and/or high times but she is a child dog still and being a dog, being what it is, is what you get for being a dog. in most cases not a bad deal but you never know around here unless you're my dog. meanwhile these motherfucking politics are killing me like watching fucking paint dry what the hell is it with some people putting noony noony boo boo's in charge of the ice cream?

i know one damn thing motherfucker and i aint sayin that just because i can but i aint because i can.

got it?

anyway-

going to dallas in a couple of days to mingle with n-laws over the week end watch football eat drink meet mary tomorrow we die for about 2 hours max, i'm the youngest retiree in the bunch yes i'm liking it fine thank you, nodding off between the penalty flags...

casual tuesday

god here we go again. the moms is flaming out. gnat turds perhaps in the synapse causing a misdeed of electrons and disrupting the normal course of free association in the elderly brain by cluttering it with the hubris of daily whim. there is no cure. old age is terminal and all I can do is provide support from the bench which includes stuff I care not to mention like the ice floe north of the Bering Straits along with the frightful weather that accompanies said colder currents.

bonster monster is keeping us well lubed and cubed. her sparkling performances take us furthur. the game is afoot and they aint got nothing on her.

then play on...

Miss Bonny Blue Jean of the BonnyBonnyBooBaaBay

The Bonster Monster is the news and that aint much but she's fine and getting on like a glove. At 3.6 months her deductive powers astound and confound and are proving to be formidable. She's my baby girl doggie oh yes she is and will not let me forget it no my leetle bon bon, my leetle cauliflower.

Windowpane Theology

...and so it goes. Fucking pouring down rain with me and the pup warming a stump in the shade. Gotta play the laylow game today to minimize potty breaks. No training today nopes. Just me and the Bonster on a Tuesday sittin around here doing our best at nothin better to do. With the wife at work, there's no CNN creeping me out from across the room. Best way I know to get depressed is listen to CNN all day. Best way to stay out of that is leave the TV off. Hello?? Today I got all my news from the weather radar on the NWS web site. Much more refreshing than politics and warfare and changes faster than any fucking pointy head politician can conjure for us or promise us in televised debates with other pointy head political big spenders who promise to eat your babies and shit pure fucking gold in return. Warfare is always the cheap way to your heart. The expense comes later when you realize how had you were but then oops, you're broke and it's too fucking late. Oh dear god. Cry me a river but what the fuck were you thinking sending a generation off to die? And for what again?
I highly recommend keeping an eye on the weather because it influences you. Yes you. And it always will.

re:

i sally ferth

steel rims in sand

""...nothing surprises me..." lamented Cusecio squinting into the late afternoon sun as the wagon wheels of his stencil, redlining it downhill in a merry bliss shedding all detractors and their tractors alike, shook to beat the band I dare say and because really nothing ever surprised him even a little bit, even after the war and all because he was so surprised to be alive you know he just remained surprised. Like a baby duck every day he did and his wife always noticed how surprised he was every morning. He got out of bed everyday in the morning because he was so
surprised.
It was as foreign a concept I could imagine being so surprised and not being so surprised in/at the same time and space especially in the morning. Cusecio was an odd duck, a queer bird. Especially in the morning. Was considered by many to be quite shell-shocked and for him far as he was concerned that was nothing new and his gravity was matched. As a result this this whatever, zoning, or whatever, redlining downhill stencilfixer was fixing to become the surprise and he didn't even know it. The fix was in the mix."

...but I digress...

New pup Bonny is a heartbreaker. She's doing well and promises to be just as difficult as we thought she'd be. She's kinda like a teenager on four legs. More like a lot like a teenager on four legs.

puppy hell in a basket

today is the first full day around here for the new house mate: a 10 week old cow dog that flew in yesterday from out of state. she's kept me up most of the night with congestion, loose stool and general lack of sleepiness or remorse to which all i can do in response is sigh and say to myself i told you so. to the vet the first thing this morning when they open for her shots and maybe some antibiotics to clear up her chest, another day resting then to boot camp.
so far she shows a lot of good sense and great temperament and when housebreaking is done, maybe i'll get some rest.

aawww!

ya know I sit here and I wonder but I don't give a shit because I don't feel a thing and I wonder if talking to my silly self would help but I don't think so I'm drinking, beer to be exact, and I don't remember being here except for the meow part then I remember the bow wow part and it reminds me of the you know what part and then it's the no shit part. who should I believe?


...but be that as it may, it still can be the end of the world without us knowing it or for all I care
and in the mean time I'm going like, aaww shucks, what a beautiful baby.

pick a number, get in line, take a seat. get ready...

more from the retirement front

oh yes. the u o' t union is very rich dribbledribbledribble a tarjai but i tend to stay in my car these days so trolling the campus is out unless i park and walk 40 blocks trying to look innocent which in my advanced stage of decay, i shant do since my wife works on campus and the cops know me. small world.

mondays aren't so bad anymore. by the way. they tend to zippy right on by and leave me feeling utterly refreshed mostly. i recently went inside the HRC @ UT to look up a novel writer person i like had some papers there in the archive. i remembered how to act in a research library. it was inspiring.

been following the Peloponnesian War with more than a passing interest here lately. o my fucking gawd can Thucydides deliver a point or what?
rest of the time i'm blending in with the scenery. just buried our 3rd dog and already looking for a new pup. need new tires truck's almost paid for traffic sucks and gas is killing us but wtf, it cant eat us so right now the Riley, Life Of is ok if anybody asks. might get a chance here to buy wolf lady's property next door which would be like scoring a touchdown and winning the superbowl in the last second on national tv and getting laid on the fantail at the same time. awesome.
epic of wolf lady is long story.

we're trying not to get out much for obvious reasons so home grown deep in the heart of hanging out around the house is about the only game awake. parental issues on both sides have proven to be attention mongers. so far no need to get second job. having enough distraction right now for busy worth's. hope the wife can retire soon too then we can really save money.

whatever they tell you about retirement, dont believe a fucking thing they tell you and dont ask me because you wouldnt believe me anyway but if you did ask i would say yeps to you and to the uninitiated who insist on proof there is life after work. there is.
trust me...

bwwwhhhaahhaaahhhaaaaa

skegma hai

this retirement thing is alright but my working for a living friends have forgotten all about me being wrapped up in their so called careers and all and they just fucking forgot about me about as much i them so there and frankly francis surely that's okay because after all i'm retired so fuck it. right francis? a ship to drive would be the way to go friends or not then i could go skiing on a salmon too but...

not todaa oh mortal 1 bcuz 2dae is knot there dai as well

i care not what i think for today you saw pigs fly. oh yes you did.

so im thinking about surfing and personalized custom shoes for sleeping. but most of the time not. most of the time is away so thats fine for shoes. mostly.

texacajun gumboil

Have you heard oh noo, but bet it's good for you too like the side of melted butter on hot pepper cornbread part not to mention the wow factor of dining in faux posh Houston digs at the Big Ass Mall with a simple air of laid back arrogance as opposed to say, Dallas with it's britelitebigcitious elegance and conspiracy theorists lurking in every one-eyed sedan on the street after dark suggesting once again that mega-metro trends will probably be the death of us all if the food or the snipers don't kill us first.

hell bound

if we had listened to them in 1971 we might not be where we are now. if we hadn't let them lie to us as to why we are fighting this time around too, we might not be where we are now. if j.f.k. hadn't been killed, we might not be where we are now. if nixon hadn't been elected, we might not be where we are now. if bush hadn't been re-elected, we might not be where we are now. if enough people had said no, we wouldn't be where we are now.

Winter Soldier: America Must Hear These Vets' Stories

suck x suckfest

Lo these many days I've waited for the crowded streets to despair and disgorge their crawling multitudes in an out of townerly direction. My table is never clean and the waitress always surly. I would have tipped her if she had brought me all my change from that 10 spot but the 50 cents she kept cost her a dollar. I left the waiting list unattended for I care not, the atmosphere poisoned by second rate art. fucking austin...
The voices are insincere and overly loud, pointless to a fault. The music is dramatic and raw and utterly devoid of meaning, the bands being full of themselves upon their stage of irrelevancy and me anxious for them to leave and take their doting fawning fellatio devotees with them. Pierce your labia elsewhere please and hey you, yeah you, get the fuck out of my way before I cold cock your boyfriend.
This town really sucks.

oh woe...

well evidently your pulse has gone the way of wayward youth since there's to be no way of getting a rise out of you short of setting your hair on fire and even then at your advanced age you probably wouldn't twitch what with not having a pulse and all. you see. on the other foot, you might be in perpetual swoon due to the accelerated pulse now positively puling through your pinhead. for that i can understand but the other, the not moving, waking up on the right side of the dirt is preferable and in fact encouraged. all knitting aside, woe behark you? moy beane prhaps or worst kiawkle to smoot. no way hose be. lot much to see time on and on. no news here, pretty much steady edifice. the moms is going down in flames keeping me busy picking up the pieces. glad i have the time now to deal with it. other than that, all over? the more things change, the more they stay the same: you never call, write or take me to lunch and it's always too noisy around here.

living in a yellow can o beans

"Flying" from Magical Mystery Tour might have been a good choice as an accompaniment to the restless wind inside a letter box.

NASA Launching Beatles Tune Into Space

if you have to ask

you probably can't afford it.
another campaign year grinding me to a nub in the dust of the iraqimolcajeti. i'm so numb, my ears are ringing and now the motherfucker, this bastard, this... comes clean and talks about how he use to drink too much and how his faith has pulled him through and it was only a few lies to get his way and only 4000 dead on our side so far and not to mention the fact the world hates him but jesus loves him cuz he told him so and addiction is bad bad bad and god's on his side and america is god's team and we have to watch over your shoulder america to be sure cause we have to know and lizard skin don't itch trust us even though it's been 7 years. if i was an immigrant i would leave on the next tramp steamer.
not listening to it doesn't make it any less true george. go ahead turn it off. change the channel. it's all hate tv, it's all a distraction from your pious sobriety eh? george. you dumb fuck.

plowshares into laptops

the rest of the story...

Frontline Blogger Covers War in Iraq With a Soldier’s Eyes - New York Times

just the facts

just what this country needs; just another dirty little war and just another 5 cent cigar

Michael Yon Online Magazine

fuck me to tears

...this is just the kind of shit that's leading the decline of civilization and good taste as we know it.

Spears' manager says singer has mental issues Entertainment People Reuters

gauge is stuck on zero

ah winter... another january cold snap set in. temperature just above freezing, dogs in and wife at work. whoa baaeebuh...
quiet day to the extreme. no phones, no neighbors. just a distant freight train to remind me there are others on the planet.
half way through 'war & peace' and countless cups of coffee. chocolate is running low however. maybe next week will i go forth to replenish same. gotta hand it to tolstoy. he sure knows how to describe wealthy tsarist era russian society with all the attendant angst and neurosis. the broken hearts and dreams and teenage sex. the women are beautiful, the men are dashing, everybody speaks french and belongs to the english club. it's a non-stop party and napoleon is just around the corner with his troops ready to take on the russian winter. what's not to like?

incident in the strait

whole thing kinda reminds me of the day they pulled the same stunt in the Tonkin Gulf and went wah wah wah all the way home. Lyndon says let there be no mistake and pow! look where that got us. glad somebody was really awake on that hormuz watch and was having a slow news day. one of those letter home deals that begin with "Guess what I did at work today dear. I almost shot a ski boat that was yelling at me on the radio. But wait, there's more. Captain comes on the bitchbox says stand fast. Don't want some Incident harking back 40 odd years of bad judgment nope. Calls over to the Royal Texaco Princess on an outbound slant and yep they heard it too in fact they hear it all the time Navy just some joker sitting on a hill with a pair of binocs watchin the traffic and steppin on you. relax the GQ already... and boats sez aye soir secure all hands smoking lamp is lit now sweepers sweepers, man yer brooms...
boy what a day. later."

either that or all the mail will be heavily censored like ours was and we will never hear the rest of the story unless paul harvey gets a hold of it or we make it up as we go which ever comes first.

http://www.truthout.org/docs_2006/011208C.shtml

it's just real estate kid

well shit here we are again another new year and i wasn't through with the last one. where's all this time going?
we got a runaway war, dangerous men in office, dangerous men running for office and dangerous people that will vote for them no matter what the fuck i do running dangerously amok. brinksmanship all around. god playing favorites of all things. what i want to know is is when's all this shit gonna stop? i bet it's a good bet sunday school's rules take over cause that's what they want. we are not here to introduce you to democracy, we're here to enforce it. that's the godly american way and god bless america and all ships at sea thank you very much.

i hit this plateau recently and i'm seeing real good, my skin fits and i'm okay with the old days because that's what they are.
i'm grateful i don't have a child in the war. it will never end this madness, this open to endless interpretation and conjecture this war, this stupid war. stealing a generation for downpayment. a government bought and paid for by the powerful and they know who they are fucking us.

but shit, it's a new year, maybe it will hold steady for a few months.

horsi unchained

"thought you might find this interesting if you hadn't seen it already coinul. a sad state of affairs but what are you going to do, re-up?

http://www.truthout.org/docs_2006/121707A.shtml

as an aside, my beef with the horses next door and the pigs that owns them continues and judging from law enforcement's response there's nothing much i can do 'cept stamp my foot and hold my breath. can't squeeze water out of the shower tile as they say whoever they is. the crazy woman aint got a pot to piss in so it's kind of a rock and a hard place kind of a deal. everything points to owner responsibility to fence in horses from the standpoint of the law as presented in the book but enforcing that appears to be the bone d'contendaire de jour as there doesn't seem to be a challenge to the oftsaid "free range county" excuse for not doing anything that resembles work w/o the merit badges for busting a giant meth lab or something to make it worthwhile so nothing gets done until a pickup full of teenagers plow into a 2200 lb pregnant mare on the road in a dark curve on a saturday night and break something. then it's "the owner must have moved officer, haven't heard or seen anything over there for a month" story that makes it to tv after 3 of the kids are taken off life-support and die. i digress...
to me it would be prohibitively expensive to fence that property for stock in the first place and not worth the aggravation in the second place and further more if one don't know what the hell one's doing when it comes to livestock and tries to raise them by proxy then one should be shot for being stupid.
you know, you think, "move to the country and get away from it all", yeah get a little privacy, peace and quiet, the good will towards men routine kicks in and what happens, the stuff i'm trying to hide from follows me out here and squats next door like randy quaid in that silly ass christmas movie.
ooh this just in, the owner wants to meet me at the breaches in the fence so she can fix them. looks like it's going to be fence pliers at 3 paces in the morning.

...to be continued..."

but wait there's more, read on. if you must.

"shellsden@hotmail.com

Spoke to Shelly tonight. She said to call her (before 9 in the evening, email her, go see her this weekend and show her where along your fence line the horses are getting out. She will fix. If you know anybody that wants to buy the horses (the momma and her baby anyway), she is willing to sell them. Don't know the price. This is what she said. Above is her email.

I did tell her again, how upset we all were and about all the damage her horses have caused here and at your place. I also called and left another message for Tommy Cooper today. I will be calling him and leaving messages every single day I see these horses on our property from today forward. I also told Shelly I would have no problem getting him to come out and pick them up if we get them penned up again.

They were eating out of my feeders today and knocked several down and caused even more damage.

Don't know if this will do any good, but I tried. Chris is going to call her again when he gets home."

two more installments from the ongoing horse opera. mine to my lawyer friend and one from my sister n law to me. progress is slow out here and so it goes... uphill both ways in the snow barefoot.

a horse by any other color

i shot a horse in the yard last night. hit that mare so hard the projectile ricocheted into the side of the house thwack! made her colt jump mama mia what was that...
mare did the "omigod somebody shot me" routine and disappeared ass last into the dark. she's a dark horse. she's still out there tonight freezing mad.

this wristrocket is wicked bad.

i'll be waiting...

scopings the drape

meh
i'm so fucking tired of this shit. i like being retired and i don't want to go back to some job. for what? self-gratification? nah. still gonna die with or without. i quit smoking but i'm still gonna die. i quit drinking but i'm still gonna die. i drive safe, got married, eat well and i'm still dying yet. no matter what happens it's always the same. i'm still gonna die.
that's why i aint in no big fucking hurry to get in a big fucking hurry to get to nofuckingwhere faster than i already am because after all... so get off my fucking back about it already and i threw my back out two days ago anyway so fuck off.

but my point was the background noise that has migrated past the threshold of auditory awareness like the ambient sound of dallas on a wet night is now forcing itself into my sleep and disrupting my chi making me grumpy and setting a restlesstude of spirit adrift behind my eyes. i hate it. it's very negative and deliberate in it's force and i can only hope it away for to lean into it would be to invite blooding and troubles around the house which is so unworth it. other solution would be to move further out.

still, reading helps and cormac mccarthy is one of my favorite writers. been getting my mind around delillo for a while now. pynchon, barth, marquez and others. english the way it really works, the way it really is, the way it really paints. i actually bought the latest edition of War & Peace a week ago and there it sits eyeballing me from the shelf like a mad russian. never read it but it's there, waiting for me to tackle this new translation as i find more time to stretch my neurons. thousand+ page tomes don't scare me and i think the translation will be interesting reading.
the weight gain is bumming but with the new togs for the dogs, traversing trail heads is becoming more routine and getting easier. i'm only 20 pounds over since i quit smoking but i aint used to it so i gotta get balanced better. the doctor says eh, could be a lot worse. keep humping the trail.
but if i have to i will go back to work but only if i absolutely have to one way or another i'm going to avoid punching a clock again.

horse latitude (caution)

"hey Jack glad you called. My cell phone is in limbo around the house and it usually just chirps for voice mail but today due to weather and sun spots, it didn't so I got your call late during a brief respite from the aforementioned solar storm. ahem... and sitting logged on corrupts the land line as well. No DSL in the boonies. so solly. Don't bother calling my office phone, I retired. nanny nanny boo boo and it's my birthday phhttttt...After I emailed you I did a little looking around and found some fine print statutes talking about free-range la de da that applies more to the roast fowl and grilled rib-eye of today than the days of ass-busting yore but depending on the precinct (in Texas) and the county commissioners in place, the burden of the property owner to fence in or fence out livestock (in this case horses) is up to the locals and again in this case, is that right?, even the county commissioners and judge I spoke with don't know for sure which it is in this precinct so my options are to get up in front of these yahoos on the 10th and get their attention and possibly pursue a lawsuit against my neighbor for, if nothing else, having the wrong kind of wire strung at the wrong height between inadequate posts in general disrepair and for stomping around and putting 1900 lb. foot prints on my septic field while eating all the grass off it or busting a cap in the head of every horse (8, count 'em, 8) that walks around the corner of the house. The latter doesn't seem much like an option. A thought occurred to me though a lawyer could maybe send one of those "within an inch of your Chapter 11" type letters like willy peter at 300 meters to help things along know what I mean Colonel? I really don't want to go to court with anybody due to the fact I have better things to do but, never say never. I just don't know the details for running this down. Anyway, I'll give you a call. Been a long time Jack and I need a good laugh from the Naval Infantry. I'm just kidding jeez you jarheads are so sensitive. Semper Fi already."

another related document in this ongoing horse opera. my buddy jack and me grew up in the same schools and were always friends in spite of his academic kickass that got him through Annapolis, Harvard Law and a couple dozen years in the Marine Corps.
his irreverence towards his own excellence always impressed me. he called me back and left a message; anytime anywhere anyplace. yep can always count on the Marines.

idiocratical

""I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and kill him." Mark Twain.

well today was one of those days where i set out to wreak maximum chaos and mayhem, inflict extreme prejudice in the execution of frontier justice as i see it and ended up with way more than i could have bought even if i could have afforded it. having gotten to the point of no return in my tolerance of stray horses i headed into lockhart to inquire about suing my idiot neighbor for damages her horses are causing. so i'm sitting there getting info from a clerk about speaking at a commissioner's court next month challenging some obscure law about caldwell county being a "free-range" county and whether my yard and septic field is considered free-range as well when in walks the judge hisself heading back to chambers from the men's room. after brief introductions all around, a 30 second spot pleading my case to the actual judge right there in the front office and giving my phone number to the clerk, the judge says he will speak to the animal control deputy about this free-range nonsense and takes his leave being the old cattleman himself and knowing a fucked up law when he smells one. so i'm standing there and the clerk says way to go and me, i'm out the door to lunch. damn i's good. no point in calling the minions for help, just go straight to the top i always say.now whether anything will happen in the next few weeks remains to be seen but i have rattled around the hall of justice and pulled the string of a judge w/o the benefit of an appointment before his bench or the accompaniment of an armed guard. i walk with angels and bad dogs. do not piss off the wrong guy. some people should learn these things. i am the wrong guy.
as usual."

I wrote the above Thursday afternoon in an email to an old friend after I got home and it sums up my general attitude this year towards irresponsible assholes that fuck with me but Mr. Clemens said it best and so i'll leave it at that.

galloping idiocracy

Well shitfire, I'm back. Been away for a month getting the new roof done and chasing the fucking neighbor's horses around my property and not getting anywhere with the sheriff's department probably going to have to submit everything in writing and hire a lawyer to sue a person who has no money. What are the percentages in that I ask ya. Dammit.
Retirement is agreeing with me but the neighbor is pissing me off and generally making herself very unliked around here not that it makes a bit of difference. Sometimes I just want to throw a burning bag of shit at her house. All of this makes me very tired.
I think I will take a nap...

shiney side up

Hooha day 2 of a re-roofing job on the domicile man this is a good thing. Double-lock standing seam 24 gauge metal roof would float if turned upside down. Front porch roof re-built, rain harvesting system incorporated to keep the plants happy with natural water crew of 3 working hard and fast like they know what they're doing. No rain in the forecast sky clear and @ high 70's manomanomano...

paper or plastic?

...and to think I almost forgot what today is. Why it's the one month anniversary of my retirement...that much ballyhooed event that launched me off the books.

lancing a blister in the dark

It's just simply amazing to me that anybody thinks the way they do. I mean really. "What the fuck?" you may ask and I would tell you in great detail if I knew the answers to that and other burning questions but I don't and I can only speculate and cringe and rage at the Stupids with their little Pinheads. I don't have any idea what it is I'm talking about and I'm trying to keep it that way but one thing is for sure, killing for peace is like fucking for virginity. They are both mutually exclusive and the cost of this adventure we are currently engaged in has already been discussed in far greater circles than the average browser will discuss here and nobody is sacrificing for the effort except the families of the dead now rotting and all they can do is weep so let's keep it that way.
There was no threat. There is no plot to invade America. There was only Katrina and her sister Rita and the boys over in the Corps of Engineers whose funding was cut off because there aint no percentages in the weather and George. Poor inarticulate George. Explosions and their body counts are far more predictable so lets practice elsewhere shall we?
Heat and auditory weapons that could be deployed and end the fighting overnight are kept back because why? Because it puts too much policy out of a job. Warfare is human nature as is profiteering from the vast expanse of destruction.

the old mousefart on a cotton ball trick

... so as i was sayin' yeah yeah i'll get used to this aural trespassing and carry on like i own de' place right, know what i'm sayin? just like livin under the Union Pacific trestle next to I-10 holmz no biggie right? get used to it. but...... i mean i still protest it aint what i signed on for says right here and it's a pisser know what i mean? and it aint asking too much to ask you to please shut the fuck up but what the hell you gonna do about it anyway? i ask ya. it's just a fucking pisser and that's just the way it fucking is anymore. fucking pisser...
shit! whaacher gonna do...

...but living out here immaculate in East Jesus de Cortez By the Bay has it's moments that eventually add up to it's worth all this for all that as long as all that don't kill us and more. but then it wouldn't matter anyway would it seeins how we'd be all dead 'n all so it must be worth it for the moment anyway right? that's all i'm sayin's all.

forest for the tree

So I'm sitting here thinking, man we bought this place, this little 10 acre slice of paradise 21 years ago and blew the doors off the pumpkins, glowed in the dark, laid down the law and broke it and generally hurt our 2 brain cells for years until the public started encroaching and we downsized our appreciation for Nature's Bounty so as not to embarrass ourselves and besides all that, we were getting older and wiser and it was time to slow down anyway and we wanted to not offend anybody. Well, why is it nobody else respects their neighbors and let's their animals and children careen out of control without a thought to the consequences? I am feeling cramped and crowded and aurally trespassed upon and there's nothing I can do about it except move but with all the blood sweat and tears that I poured into this place, I cannot and now I'm trapped in my own device. This wasn't how retirement was supposed to play out.
But in spite of all that...

The Gospel according to Moondog

...perchance to dream a Dream of a Thousand Castles in the Bold Aire, each with a Thousand Windows, opened by unseen hands and illuminating Satan's Wretched Creatures of the Dawn sprawled across the lawn spawned in Pathos and doomed to loathsome bedevilment Begone begone thy foul and wretched excess, thy wanton and vile excrement is upon thine heart, why doth thou torment so?

...make fast thyself to the Wings of Light and cast away thy Earthly bonds, to soar upon the Solar Breeze, breathless and coy...

...we are Prisoners of our own Design, reigning over a desolate landscape of broken Dreams and pitiful Aspirations. We plunder our childhood and awaken at Death's Door wondering of the Child we were and beholding a frail and gaunt form that can no longer see the Innocence and Beauty. It is but a short journey from the forceps to the stone, fraught with Horror and unspeakable Terror. Why then must we be left to such impotent devices floundering like carp?

...ah yes, to slumber and dream the Dream of the Dead. To awaken renewed, at one with the ties that bind as The Heart is to the Hunter, home from the hill home from the sea...

...so verily I say unto thee Grasshopper, so thy may know and see thy Path. Go forth into the Sweet Night and tread softly upon it's still waters. Open thine eyes and thy will see what thy need is all around thee and what thy want thy cannot have. If thy sow Ice, thy shall harvest Wind. Strive to shed thy Morbid Concerns and thy will find thyself Righteous and Wholesome.

Verily...

painted in place

it's done. the 28th has come and gone. i am outa work. by choice. to keep from going crazy. preventing a meltdown. retired.

are you fucking crazy quitting yer job at 56 after only 20 years doing the same fucking thing day after day all day long day in day out? oh exceedingly so yes but of course.

to keep from going crazy being the key operative. and to the question mostly no. trouble being the smartest moron in the room is being in the room.

feverish forward... always forward feverish

Yeps it's coming. 12 days to gusto and waiting hard like a midnight watch in the rain. Oh yeah man a birthday's full enrichment, freedomed and spiced like alrighty now. The hunch paying off and oh big time, gonna miss that bloodbath thank intuitive plumbing's reaches.

What kills me is the "in the long run" theory of perpetually insured against the day because in the long run, in a dustless cold wind or dimly lit vacuum and twisting quite putrid dead, we're all gonna be heaving those holy clappers of hell's bells themselves just to stay warm in our recollections insured perpetually or not. To trans-counter blithely away, consider the 'ppfff' of certainty as required.

Moving on moving on, on to the foggy found be bound. O' to the buckled knuckled helli delight, bringing sweet winging light for the light.

is no big deal...

The paper work is signed, witnessed, notarized and acknowledged by the monoliths. The boss informed and the countdown in progress. I am retiring in September. The daily grind is smoother and I feel less stress than I have ever felt in my working career. My humor has returned. They tell me I'm smiling more.
I quit smoking 3 months ago and feel like a different person. After 40 years I should think so. Coupled with alcohol cessation 14 months ago and now my pending retirement, I'm on the cusp. It's scary proceeding into middle age now with a certain anxiety about the future but somehow I'm not as apprehensive as I thought I'd be. This is what I been working for half my life so I'm taking my old position of letting the future take care of itself now. It got me through the folly of my youth but these days I got better plans see. I'm smarter. Going on 57 is about where I would like to start slowing down and reconsider the scenery while there's still time. Eliminating 3 major stressors and taking more naps will help with that transition to a sharper focus.

The moms is growing ever more dotty in her old age and other than dropping in on her now and then, there's no more I can do for her. She's taken care of. Major Operation that one but it was done right. Soon, and I say soon rather than later, more hard decisions are going to be made and the fight begins anew until she slips away, robbed of her senses. It's a hard thing to watch.

So here I am trying to downplay this retirement thing at work because it's only been a 20 year run and not all together that much fun and not like some of these guys that stick around 35 years or more and me I just want to fade and I don't think I'm getting out of there without notice because everybody wants to remind me and I told 'em no fanfare but after working there for so long I know the drill.

lamentation

The future is lurking and I see it spying on me, whispering "now what?" through the salt fog and crusty moon spits before me.

Have you what it takes to forge on without the net it wonders, wonders in my mind at night when the jazz is slow and low as the light.

I see the future bending and shaping under the graceful gaze of the past, undulating, modulating hungry, waiting and fast.

bad hat, Harry

I done good.
I'm retiring from my job in a couple of months. The wife knows now. I broke it to her. She didn't flinch. I have good reason to feel all full of myself and relax and banish the dread to a place in the past and move forward into a new phase of life. I can congratulate myself for not falling victim to institutionalization as some of my long time co-workers have done past their point of diminishing returns only to be even more miserable than me.
Living the dream now.

rebirth

A new era is beginning and I feel that "ants in the pants" I used to get before going to the swimming pool as a kid. I have announced my intentions at my job and I have 2 and a half months left to dwell on a 21 year history of working in the same place every day in the same miserable cube on the same miserable bouncing, overloaded and dusty second floor of the same miserable 2nd rate office building downtown for the same miserable government entity every fucking miserable day. I'm free to pursue other avenues. I'm free from a job I've learned to walk away from without looking back. I'm free at last.

picking and dreaming

Man these health kicks are killing me. Besides abandoning alcohol and it's evil destruction, I have ceased inhaling hot poisonous gas. Will I live longer as a result of these life shattering changes? Probably not and who would want to in this fucked up world? The days are brighter however and the soul's daily forays are less despondent so on the bright side, it feels like living longer whether it is or not. So I must be doing something right. I guess I must be squeezing more sensation into the moment now that I'm no longer numb to the moment. That's a good thing since the oppression of the Cube World is a major counter point to my supposed well being and thus keeping my balance in a flux most of the time not to mention my poor sainted mother's affliction that bleeds my tolerance dry. All I can do is nod knowingly and await the next crisis to rear it's ugly head.

what would Bob do?

Today has been a banner kind of a day. I communicated with a soldier I know whose in combat, brought a smile to his face and a civilian friend in the same part of the world, making him smile. After scolding another old friend in Texas about his drunkenness, he wrote me that he is going to get sober. Saw the error in his wicked ways and wants to change. That made me smile. Three other people's lives I touched today and for the better. My karma, or dharma, I get 'em mixed up, is running hot. If I can keep this up maybe I can save the world from itself. Not likely but if my affection for this mess continues I may have a chance to save myself. It's true what they say; you get out of it what you put into it.

And after a certain amount of anxiety for the last few months, I located my wife's birth certificate, my birth certificate, my DD214 from the Navy and both of our Social Security cards. All of which I needed to proceed with retirement paper work. Getting ants in the pants now.

room with a view

I have seen the damage and I have learned my lessons. My heroics are paying their way now through this sleight of hand we call mass culture. I can talk about it with humor and grace and sympathy and I understand the need and desire and willingness to let go and immerse in the stream of numbing chemical reactions that produce the hilarity and exhilaration before dumping the rider back into the rutted gallery of abuse and depressive twitch and numbing grief. A curious thing being surrounded by those that still require escape from bedevilment that really never goes away that control and send into scalding repetitions of self-destructive narratives of the soul, the cycles that can only be broken by shear system failure or by the inner strength found under the ice in 20 feet of water reaching for a life line as the air runs out. I find strength in the presence of broken spirits and my urge is to heal. If only they had ears to hear above the din of intoxication.

My visitor last night is an old friend and co-conspirator. We have reconstructed the world many times over through the years. It was a sad spectacle watching him hover in drunkenness over the deep hole in his soul. A bottle of rum does many things to a broken heart. One thing it won't do is fix it. It never will nor has been known to fix a fucking thing. Telling a foaming drunk that his life is fucked for good unless he unfuck it while still able is a perfect example of bleak futility. It takes courage. It takes a faith to change. Not a faith in something higher, for that just means resigning one's responsibilities to a third party but a faith in yourself. I could not give my self up to chance now. I survive on purpose through my own free will. My old visitor last night will wallow with his demons in the ruins he has made of his life by choices he made under the spell of alcohol. I have lost friends in the past to this rat shit and I seem to be losing another. The sad thing is he knows better but allows it to engulf and smother and seduce and kill him softly.

casting an orb about

Trickling along babbling like a brook important things in the air like a watermelon thump and 4x4's in the mud. Antibiotics need not apply. Beyond medicinal aid this perception of wilderness as therapy. Visitor from the metro tombs due to arrive with reams of research into lifestyle your mother warned you about. Sad baggage review over midnight oil pending. Meanwhile forest vibrating and glistening and alive as usual. Menacing weather moving elsewhere to wreak havoc on some other's day. Not mine today. Today is teeming and with Italian on the menu.

Others not so lucky: http://www.truthout.org/docs_2006/061607A.shtml

The fix is in and the funeral plans should be laid by now. The families should try to face the reality of the situation and begin the healing. Fathers should not have to bury their sons. It should be the other way around in a perfect world. Why do we fight I ask myself every day I breathe and wonder at the stupid affliction know as Belief and Faith among the pious as if the degree of faith will edge you over the next guy in line. I think not.

it's in the light

... done. I finished Pynchon's portfolio. I had to. What a genius that guy just wore me out giving me the weirdest dreams keeping me up nights absorbed in another world. Few writers can transport me out of the mundane like this fucking maniac. What a flight.
I should add that re-reading "Against the Day", his latest, precluded any further exploration of other authors. Everything went on hold until I was sure. I think this will be a hard act to follow.

background wave lengths

gaahh...

Fortunes of war took it's toll and all but now I remain as ever.

Trusty confuser went down in flames like a faithful Spad. Between antibiotics and corrupted code I have been otherwise sitting on an event horizon. Disconnected from the web is a home based reality show. Have to reach back and find what I did before e-life in this modern world. Not surprising the more traditional activity prevailed; things like reading books and going to bed early. Almost finished with the second reading of AtD like a I threatened to do a while back. It's a real jewel. Being sick and then offline for a few weeks allowed some overall down time and a new set of long wind chimes humming along out in the yard. I want to get a variety of large chimes to hang around. Plenty of trees. A brasso profundo chime would be cool on a gentle day. Nice to read by.

I must be feeling better although the day job keeps me dumbed down. The wheel is grinding down though, I can feel it, the timing when it's right. I hear the scrape down slope and I hope the segue be seamless as if retiring into a new activity could be. Next stop, middle age plumbing supplies, watch yer step.

At least I hope to get out of there alive and upright. There's still time on the clock to play this out in my second childhood, get a new puppy to raise. Sunny is a frame of mind. Time I got a little practice in with the Future just around the corner.

ah... Pynchon

Lo these past five months I have been on a quest albeit a personal one but no doubt as noble as any I have attended. Sobriety brings a certain clarity to the room as I have discovered. Back in November I gave myself a birthday present. I felt like I deserved to be rewarded for my keen sense of humor and sense of the absurd. Besides I was bored with military techno-thrillers, spy games and sea stories. I had not read serious literary work since college and that was some time ago, tried to read "Gravity's Rainbow" in the 70's but dozed off somewhere over London and never finished it.

So the years went by and I forgot about the guy, this Thomas Pynchon weird writer guy. An alert friend noted in an email to me that his new novel "Against the Day" was just released in case I was, you know, interested. BOING!

The next morning I called the local retail outlet and reserved a copy. "Yes, I'll pick it up today during lunch break" I promised breathlessly feeling like a kid at Christmas. It was November 30th. I finished that delicious novel by New Year's and found myself wanting more. From there I read every one of his books ("Slow Learner" is still waiting) and haunted websites and wiki's trying to read all I could find like I was dying of thirst here. I finished "Crying of Lot 49" just a week ago.

In between deliveries from Amazon I also perused some of the others (Delillo, McCarthy, Amis, Wallace, Barth etc.) while waiting. I still gravitate back to Pynchon. I can't explain it or his writing or my utter marvel at his chops.

When I get through with these others on my pile, it's getting shorter, I intend to reread "Against the Day" with more otium cum dignitate. It will be a scholarly appeasement of the muse and I'll be in a slow soak mode. I smell a Nobel Prize lingering somewhere.

D. F. Wallace almost turned me against post-modern fiction but I prevailed and deep-sixed his smart-ass. He will never be as much fun I don't care what they say.

When I read I don't like to multi-task and work several books at a time. So first things first. One more Delillo and half an Amis to go. Then I will single up all lines and get the hell outa here...

white hot wire

Today was one of those days. Ya know, one of those days. One of those days when you wake up in the morning ears ringing, numb at the prospects of sharing pale watery sunrise with the traffic crawling like seekers to the mountain and it's wizened old guy at the top that tells you every time "go back and start over, you don't know yet" and sadly we trudge and trudge into the din doing what we have to do so we can eat and drink and play and laugh and cry and yell at the sky and pretend we have some semblance of a life away from the wizened old man on the mountain telling us every time what we don't want to hear again like a voice in our heads.

The day was a relief however as is the night and every night and every day and every solution proffered is a relief because like pain it reminds you that you're still alive with nerve endings spreading like tendrils gathering the bombardments of relentless provocation, shaping into projectiles to launch back and splash like protoplasmic calculations to make the muses cry and curse and agree it's all an endless parade stretching in time from one mist to the next.

...static discharge running up and down pegging meters fluxing singing the currents and always crisping the contrasts sharper in cold bare light...

hot iron and dust

Here we go again. Sunday on the Shores of Anticipation. Time away from the grinding stone is slipping by like the proverbial hourglass. A week off is never long enough to re-acclimate. At least the rain stopped long enough to mow and talk with the creatures that inhabit the grounds. Just the usual tip o' the hat in a jovial sort of way. The copperheads stayed hidden as well they should. Colonel Colt was riding shotgun with me on patrol today and was positively vibrating at the possibility of shredding reptiles. No such luck today Colonel, maybe next time.

The clouds are diving in again like Stutkas dropping pellets of rain and banking away to refuel. Another day in the bunker... The Evil One is lurking in Kansas far to the north.

some bread and a circus

May Day.

All good oppressed workers unite! That time of year again for the teeming millions to march demanding better pay, health care, etc. WE WANT MORE STUFF! (hint: Stop having so many babies.)

Do they think that the leaders really give a shit? Do they really think the Power Elite is going to share? Ah but everybody loves a parade right? Make their voices heard! Let's roll people. Yo!

Sadly the working class is always going to be in the hapless position of neediness. Law of the jungle my dear. Of course if free education was a reality then we'd all be rich and no menial tasks would get done because there wouldn't be any undereducated around to do the work. Ever mowed the grass in Gucci's? I didn't think so. Of course a pair of Gucci's does not an education indicate. More of a status totem that says "I got more than you." More what? Money? Hope you choke on it.

Human culture has always been a pecking order. Just like (gasp) the animal kingdom except we're just a bunch of stink-footed bi-pedals in the minority that fuck for fun while other people pay money to watch.

Why are these immigrants coming into this country? Don't they know there aint no money in America? Nasty rumor I heard. Oh sure there's minimum wages for those of you who are called to a life of servitude to the Junior League with a swarm of brats at lunch time. A lot of roofs in that new subdivision you can't afford to live in to build. Whose going to dig all those sewer lines anyway? More power to you people. Lemme get outa your way.

Mandatory community service at age 18 for all citizens. Combat arms? No problem. The Marines are always looking for a Few Good Men. Be an Army of One. Accelerate Your Life. Aim High. GI Bill for continuing education. No? No military service because of moral issues? Well then, step right up. Darfur needs you. The starving refugees need you. New Orleans needs you. Get off your fat collective asses you selfish bastards and help somebody instead of whining for more tit.

stress in the rear view mirror

Things are looking up... man, vacation week is looming and it's time to take a well needed rest doing whatever comes to mind and off schedule. Starting in 24 hours we will be 80 miles away immersed in fun and frolic with old friends who are crazy enough now to farm the kids out to Grandma for a few days and let the dogs loose. Adults only acting out suppressed energy in the sun, sharing food and games just being ourselves for once without any serious responsibility oh the highway humming on the road back home in no hurry for a change.

born out of grief

The kids are alright. Yep. I can see it. Feel it. Life goes on and smiles are returning to the cell phones and a generally springyer step across the way captivates. Lo the wariness tempered with determined fire is penetrating and sharing a communion of like spirits and there is hope breaking out all over after all. The concept of random death at inappropriate intervals just got hammered home. That future looks pretty important now that now is here.

Good morning children. And how was our little nap? Oooh, cover mouths when we yawn. There, there that's good. Okay, now today our lesson is "The Art of Living" by a well-known author that you are all familiar with; B. T. Love a.k.a. yourself. Please open to Chapter One.
Remember my little darlings that there are no problems, only opportunities. No need to nod curtly back to a passing nod but rather return it with a clear steady gaze, one of knowledge and wisdom forged from despair, horror and the keeping in mind precious lambs it can be far, far worse.

Now then, let's begin anew shall we?

faith in a can

And I was sitting here taking in this not so glorious day thanking my lucky charms it was Saturday watching a deer in the yard when I stumbled upon a Test of Faith in the on-line edition of the local right-wing rag. Having come from a church going family whose head of the household was also the head of over a dozen parishes in my hometown, Bible studies were sort of expected of me whether I liked it or not. Mostly not. I was force-fed the New Testament, Western Civilization, cathedrals built to the glory of God on High out the WingWang, how to swear like a sailor before I was 18 and other hubris that somebody thought I couldn't live without. My dad was a multi-talented old sop with a yen for gin and communion wine on Sundays. Mom was a chirpster in the choir who wielded a leather belt with the best of them on Saturdays. The old man on the other hand cleared the air with a glance. The following link is to a vanilla extract quiz that asks nothing outside the bounds of daily headlines.

http://www.statesman.com/life/content/life/interactive_sm/04/042107_faithquiz.html

If you think Joan of Arc married Noah Ark and they had a son Bois D'Arc who later moved to the south of France and became the Architect for the Arc de Triomphe, you need to call me for some clarification... hark.

I might add here that after I took this so-called test of faith (missed 4 out of 10 because they were trick questions) I was informed by the author that there is more to it than praying for the Longhorns to win. Whaa, wait a minute, this is bullshit what's college sports got to do with it anyway?

lost at sea...

Yeah, the world is still a mean-ass bitch, brimming with resentment, still looming without remorse to beat you down at the top of your game. The light and passion extinguished under a hoard of senseless and random acts of violent nature, the warnings ignored, never saw it coming. Look up one morning bright and cheery into the path of a bullet before your coffee gets cold just days away from a new life all full of promise. There is no reason, the motive now dead.

Another shred of innocence died within me as did those bright and vibrant minds in Virginia. The children caught in the vortex of insanity, lives cut short...
The warnings were all there.
Are we to become tattle-tales to maintain civility? Are the terrorists coming out of the backyard home grown and bitter? Should we watch each other for danger signs?

http://www.statesman.com/news/content/shared-gen/ap/National/University_Bomb_Threat.html
http://www.statesman.com/news/content/news/stories/local/04/18/18stedwards.html

The outpouring of support for one another in the student body of that campus reminds me of another generation before them, mine. Seemingly self-centered this generation, they truly love one another and maybe a new foundation of trust can come from this tragedy. I hope there is a lesson here somewhere, the days are short and there's much to see.

I looked at the students at UT Austin today and remembered a shooting on that campus when I was younger. My heart went out to them. I remembered the hopelessness and waste. Today, 24 hours after their world changed forever, I look upon these bright young minds now with compassion and wish them well. I'm confident they will emerge even stronger from this horror and more determined to make their world a little better than the mean-ass bitch that was handed them and hopefully, God help 'em, they will start looking both ways before crossing the street while they still can.

The young people that died this week are gone. They are lost but they will live on in the reactions of their colleagues and their families so that their deaths will not be in vain.

whose life is it anyway?

There is a local woman in the news lately. She has a terminally ill 17 month old child. He has Leigh's Disease, a neurometabolic disorder that causes the central nervous system to collapse. The boy is blind, deaf and on a respirator. Has been for weeks. An MRI indicates his brain is as close to dead as dead can be. The medical staff wants to let him die with dignity. His unmarried mother wants to prolong his suffering because to do otherwise would be akin to murder. She can no longer conceive because of complications during child birth. May be a good thing to keep her out of the gene pool anyway. Where is the father of this child in all of this? Prison? On the run?

http://www.statesman.com/news/content/news/stories/local/04/15/15emilio.html

http://www.statesman.com/news/content/news/stories/local/04/15/15bioethics.html

In my opinion, this woman is not only selfish but stupid. This is not a baby doll like the one she had when she was a little girl. There are hundreds if not thousands of children alive and well who need adopting in order to have a normal, loving upbringing. But no, she wants this child. A child that will never know life in the sunshine of childhood. Never grow up to love and enjoy his time amongst the living. He is broken and cannot be fixed and his mother is killing him softly.

Let this infant have peace and while your at it you stupid woman, get a life of your own and stop abusing the staff and this infant with your immaturity. It is not murder to let Emilio go.

It's shit like this that jacks up medical costs for everybody and causes undue stress on those who are trying to do the right thing. Not to mention my blood pressure. I have zero tolerance for the stupid.

highway love

Love. Ya gotta love it. My faithful truck went into surgery today for suspension work. We made love all the way home. We were One with the road. Every delicious curve rose up to greet us with a caress and a sigh. We were an item without an audience.

and your point is...

Okay so what's this anyway me wonders. I mean who really cares about some guy posting personal observations and ruminations, canting along about foibles found in and around about. Politics? Romance? Technology? Naahh. Who cares? I think the Blog has become a cultural icon. More like the cordless landline of yore and maybe not. I hesitate to compare it to the CB radio craze in the pre-cell phone age. But money and endorsements have generated a niche market for less than profound writing in some blog realms. I know I'm wrong somewhat about that but who wants to read the minutia of some other bloke's life anyway? What else is new? Maybe I'll find out. I don't want to look like one of those people who have to see themselves in print. Unless I do. If I wanted that I would write to newspaper editors everyday and include the latest pic. I'm the other somebody living along at a slow gallop sending back dispatches from the frontier. My observations from the daily breath. My postcards from the edge. I can't talk to myself and expect a return unless I'm just crazy after all and that takes practice. So hither I go.

In writing this blog I set out to find an interesting seat in the bleachers and focus on the inter-relationships my brain chemistry has with the oxygen 2 rich world just outside the calcium barrier. Within a hydrogen 2 + oxygen 1 rich environment the relationship is even more primordial but that's another story.

With that in mind, my musings bear no more resemblance to full contact journalistic bombast than I do but dishing them out to a soup line keeps them going like pilgrims.

One way to bring these minglings along is to inject a convulsive reactionary stimulus into the core transmission thus causing a polar conduction and discharge of excited molecules. By doing so, the influx of oxygen 2 into the organism heightens universal arousal of the senses and improves overall performance at rest, provides clarity where there was none and reduces arguments with the wallpaper. (sorry Oscar)

So here it is, 6 weeks into the back country of post-literary obfuscation without a pot to piss in. I could do a lot worse.

I got yer fundamentalism...

The following link goes to an essay in the Guardian from Martin Amis. He pretty much sums up what I've been thinking all along about all Fundamental Religionism wherever it hides. What a bunch a sore heads.
I will confess here however that some of my best friends are Vegetarians.

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,,1868732,00.html

Obsessed with dying to meet God and live in splendor forever is a concept that's been around since dirt but is a not an all together healthy point of view in my estimation. Are they so bored and lonely they have to take everybody else with them for company? I think it's pathological, an organic disorder teetering into homicidal psychosis. Salvation through intimidation and murder is abhorrent behavior and blaming the West for the world's ills is a congenital defect of mind and symptomatic of developmental immaturity of culture and remission of civilization. One does not kill for God. Suicide is killing God you eediot.

a bunny day

Easter. A good day to hang. It's cold and wet and pretty much miserable enough outside to match my mood inside. Poised here on the brink, time to gird my loins again so to speak for combat in the early morning mist of Monday. Back to the mill house of pointless endeavour we call working for a living. It aint fun this constant push-pull making money to pay the government so they can waste it blowing up deserts somewhere killing things that never met me coming or going. The fucking bastards. Quit complaining already.

They let those British sailors go home. Ha ha just kidding we weren't going to hurt you just you know teach your boss a lesson about diplomacy yeah that's all. No big deal. Go home, kiss the baby hug your mother. All is forgiven. Meanwhile, dark steel hulls of instant death gather in the shallows locking in co-ordinates for their little birdies to fly to just in you know, case they try that shit again, we'll just blow 'em the hell up. Yep. And so it goes. The thuggery continues unabated while God snoozes somewhere and the lost Easter eggs rot in the rain. The priests and rabbis are working overtime expressing their brand of calmness. What do we need to do? Forgive ourselves and move on? Why yes indeed. If you love yourself then everything else sort of falls into place. Right? I guess. Whatever. Quit complaining already.

I went to see my father the other day. He's still reclining there on his back looking up past the sky dreaming. Says he's doing alright considering. I picked up the litter around him deposited by the other less than considerate breezes among us. The grass is of course in it's seasonal brown cloak but the riding mower's tracks indicate that somebody is at least getting paid to watch over it. I couldn't stay long and told him so. Thought about my mother. How she had become quite the pill now forgetting everything. How she longed to join him but I think he preferred to remain alone. No nagging that way. No more screaming suicidal threats or promises to move in under the Congress Ave. bridge just out of spite. She's mostly passive now I thought mostly over burdened.

Plenty of basking time with forever without interruption now boy. I think my father is bored though. He repeats himself. We had this conversation before and he understood my haste to leave. There was living to be done elsewhere and now see where it gets you. Besides I have to piss. Bye daddy...so long member of The Greatest Generation. Until the next time old man. ta...

So the day drags on. CNN spewing it's informational bile in a crawl across the room. Laundry appearing in piles to be folded and put away. Dinner defrosting on the counter. Shades of gray with a hint of green staring back at me through the windows hybrid Afro-Celtic music drifting in-between. Typical Sunday options however limited. Quit complaining already.

I look forward to a sunny day.

who ya gonna call?

I hear tell the Iranian Disposable High Command bestowed upon some maritime coasties the (gasp) Medal of Honor for capturing those cowardly Royal Navy and Marine personnel found loitering in rubber boats. Man, what a heroic struggle that must have been. What a diplomatic waltz of brinkmanship.
Had my man Hornblower been there, those smirking Persians would have been shark shit.

drenched in photons

What effulgence doth hover and I thought last Sunday was the day. Today I'm the windshield and light is the bug. The air is locked, refracting it's wares on my tools and beckoning like a Siren on a sparkling waterfront, winking and smiling re-arranging my past.

I'm ready to withdraw my synapses from the over-charged influences of metropolia and immerse myself in the bounty of muted organisms and dappled shadows. The weather extremes serve as a reminder of the timeless quality of life or Otherwise and the futility of over-involvement in the world's funereal mass for solitude is the source of all wisdom, that for which I strive as concentric ripples on a pond in my midnight might strive; a constant coming and going, the past and the future co-mingling and enabling companionably in measured rhythms and silent communion.

To breathe the Present, to know the Future, to predict the Past and Divine the structure, essence, the fiber of Being. To put language to the muse, to see the machinations as a world in it's own globe of swirling wonderment and know as a distant star cluster knows, that which we are we can become and we have a choice between gods and cannibals and the quick and the dead are one and the same.