Papa what are you doing its yesterday?
I know you think I am weird... and I wanted to thank you for that....
I do hold an appreciation... you confronted me to my face in the grocery store.
You probably don't remember coming over to the house and playing with my kids...
You were very comical looking... and always had such a strait face...
You were not very susceptible to ... joking or teasing.. and not made to laugh easily...
You were in perfectly safe hands...
Some of the other kids mothers were doing up Cocaine.... yours was not...
One mother left her kids with us for 3 days.. without even calling.... she dropped her kids off with a package of Skittles.... and snotty noses....
I would not expect you to remember any of this shit... you were only 3 or 4 maybe... you used to wear them little damned Osh Kosh bib overalls... always made me chuckle.... its not that they looked bad or anything
they were just comical with you and your strait face....
I think you guys actually had fun playing in the atrium in the kiddie pool... and stuff... it was a big terrible mess... Plants, and toys.. and things strewn around everywhere.... a nightmare or heaven.... depending on your perspective....
You grew into a young woman... gosh how old are you now 25 -30..... I think your attractive... does that make me creepy.... as your babysitter..... its not then nor was it... but now... well that is a different story isn't it?
I don't know if it is courage, balls, or honesty.... that you approached me in the grocery store and told me to my face you thought the stuff I write is weird....
So I wanted to compliment you on it... which ever way it is... and what a pleasure it has been from my distant perspective watching you grow up and following a meaningful path... and finding some success ..
I am not your Parent... but non the less feel some pride in you...
Your part time baby sitter. You probably know who you are... but are not reading this.
Kiddo.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Monday, June 29, 2015
The First One
He bent over and picked up a piece of broken pottery... it was around 900 years old best he could figure give a lifetime or two maybe three..............
It sent a shock wave up his forearm.
He thought ' The Art of Acting out Art.'
Read the comments beneath.. almost any Post... People are generally Idiots... taking this shit seriously ..
Come on man its fucking Art... it does not even have to be good.. you don't have to like it... but still some idiot makes a remark it is not real...its fake... Well No Shit Sherlock, Your a fucking genius...
Are you Stupid ? Of course it fucking is.... its Art, its the illusion... I can't fathom you would believe otherwise.. and yet.. hundreds thousands even... of Stupid Idiotic Remarks.
Its just acting man.......
Acting out a calling... a pursuit ... so relax.. don't shit your pants... O.K.?
Its for the entertainment of others... not you apparently .........
So he is wandering around in a dark mobile home.... feeling the walls in lust... looking for his long lost love:
All the lamps are burned out... every friggen one.... click the switch , still dark, He guesses all the bulbs are burned out.
He finally feels his way to the bedroom door where she is sleeping... opens the door he crawls in bed with her.. ah the feel of the sheets... oh he has not seen her in so long...
He is all Horny you know?
He kisses her on the neck... such soft flesh.... she is mildly receptive.
Oh wait a minute , he had her confused with the other girl the First One... he called her by the wrong name... he tried to cover it up quickly... she is a bitch.. that is what I meant to say.... he tells her... that other one was no good , but oh how he did love her.
She is pissed, He says don't be mad honey.
I love you... now for some of that nookie please, the coochie ...
Still your heart is aching for the first one it really is.
The first one...
A Techno beat..... Th Th Th Th Th The F F F F F F First one.
The First one The First one........ Th Th Th Th Th F F F F F F First one.
He kisses her on the soft neck....
Fucking Christ... He just got your names mixed up... its no big deal.
What are you so worked up for?
The First One.
It sent a shock wave up his forearm.
He thought ' The Art of Acting out Art.'
Read the comments beneath.. almost any Post... People are generally Idiots... taking this shit seriously ..
Come on man its fucking Art... it does not even have to be good.. you don't have to like it... but still some idiot makes a remark it is not real...its fake... Well No Shit Sherlock, Your a fucking genius...
Are you Stupid ? Of course it fucking is.... its Art, its the illusion... I can't fathom you would believe otherwise.. and yet.. hundreds thousands even... of Stupid Idiotic Remarks.
Its just acting man.......
Acting out a calling... a pursuit ... so relax.. don't shit your pants... O.K.?
Its for the entertainment of others... not you apparently .........
So he is wandering around in a dark mobile home.... feeling the walls in lust... looking for his long lost love:
All the lamps are burned out... every friggen one.... click the switch , still dark, He guesses all the bulbs are burned out.
He finally feels his way to the bedroom door where she is sleeping... opens the door he crawls in bed with her.. ah the feel of the sheets... oh he has not seen her in so long...
He is all Horny you know?
He kisses her on the neck... such soft flesh.... she is mildly receptive.
Oh wait a minute , he had her confused with the other girl the First One... he called her by the wrong name... he tried to cover it up quickly... she is a bitch.. that is what I meant to say.... he tells her... that other one was no good , but oh how he did love her.
She is pissed, He says don't be mad honey.
I love you... now for some of that nookie please, the coochie ...
Still your heart is aching for the first one it really is.
The first one...
A Techno beat..... Th Th Th Th Th The F F F F F F First one.
The First one The First one........ Th Th Th Th Th F F F F F F First one.
He kisses her on the soft neck....
Fucking Christ... He just got your names mixed up... its no big deal.
What are you so worked up for?
The First One.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
The Rejection Notice From The Guggenheim
What a whirlwind of dreams this life:
He was thinking back to his rejection notice from the Guggenheim... he should of hung it in a frame on the wall, what was the matter with him?... he should of been proud of it... he can't even remember what the potential grant money was for... oh it was something on the lines of making the world a more livable place, they had acknowledged him and his idea... so much so they said his application was very creative... but no banana... too bad but thanks for trying.
Don't take it the wrong way, please, such decorum .............
It was a pretty combination lock.... for your bicycle... it looked just like a big dice... you had to turn the snake eyes to oppose the single dot... not entirely unlike a Rubik's Cube and wa la... the tumblers would line up... and out would slide the mechanism nice and smooth like.
His different pride:
His problem too nice of a guy:
Her husband was a decent guy:
He was an old man and lived in their attic... he rode around town on a bicycle, he wore red... he had to leave the house early as it got hot up there... and he had habitual rounds to make.
The owner, the nice guy asked him to wait around for the gravel truck to come... he was having 3/8" white P-gravel delivered for some landscaping in the yard... all the old man could think of was the dreaded wheelbarrow .... the young man was also trying to build this highly creative shower.. it was going to be made with rather large panels of stained glass translucent panes... with slots router'ed in and among'st the Banyan trees... to slide the sections into.
The old man was sort of scratching his head at the young mans idea... he had seen some photos of a wall.. the young fellow attempted to build with sticks and mortar .... he had gotten a start then had to tear it down and went with traditional stone and forms.... the old man really liked the young guy... he was meaning well.
All those kids that were passing through the house... he had to watch his emotions and behaviors....
Waiting for a figure of truth to appear .... the adolescent girl wanted to be picked up and held.
Failure and there Why? He thought to himself... She was so hungry.
He felt dangerous.
Oh and then there was that mean group of boys... they were heading for trouble as they passed through the nice decent mans house... he knew it he could see it... so he thought... pretty sure.
He had his own problems.. he had to watch his feelings....and control his emotions and desires...
Failure and their why? He thought to himself and the Take care of it.
He wobbled down the street with no where to go on his old red bicycle with the over sized rolling dice for a combination lock.... a bit fearful...........
She sure was a good looker and was kind, and did like him .................. and he her too.
He really should have framed and hung his rejection notice from the Guggenheim, it was something to be proud of.
You don't get satiated without hunger.
The Rejection Notice From The Guggenheim.
He was thinking back to his rejection notice from the Guggenheim... he should of hung it in a frame on the wall, what was the matter with him?... he should of been proud of it... he can't even remember what the potential grant money was for... oh it was something on the lines of making the world a more livable place, they had acknowledged him and his idea... so much so they said his application was very creative... but no banana... too bad but thanks for trying.
Don't take it the wrong way, please, such decorum .............
It was a pretty combination lock.... for your bicycle... it looked just like a big dice... you had to turn the snake eyes to oppose the single dot... not entirely unlike a Rubik's Cube and wa la... the tumblers would line up... and out would slide the mechanism nice and smooth like.
His different pride:
His problem too nice of a guy:
Her husband was a decent guy:
He was an old man and lived in their attic... he rode around town on a bicycle, he wore red... he had to leave the house early as it got hot up there... and he had habitual rounds to make.
The owner, the nice guy asked him to wait around for the gravel truck to come... he was having 3/8" white P-gravel delivered for some landscaping in the yard... all the old man could think of was the dreaded wheelbarrow .... the young man was also trying to build this highly creative shower.. it was going to be made with rather large panels of stained glass translucent panes... with slots router'ed in and among'st the Banyan trees... to slide the sections into.
The old man was sort of scratching his head at the young mans idea... he had seen some photos of a wall.. the young fellow attempted to build with sticks and mortar .... he had gotten a start then had to tear it down and went with traditional stone and forms.... the old man really liked the young guy... he was meaning well.
All those kids that were passing through the house... he had to watch his emotions and behaviors....
Waiting for a figure of truth to appear .... the adolescent girl wanted to be picked up and held.
Failure and there Why? He thought to himself... She was so hungry.
He felt dangerous.
Oh and then there was that mean group of boys... they were heading for trouble as they passed through the nice decent mans house... he knew it he could see it... so he thought... pretty sure.
He had his own problems.. he had to watch his feelings....and control his emotions and desires...
Failure and their why? He thought to himself and the Take care of it.
He wobbled down the street with no where to go on his old red bicycle with the over sized rolling dice for a combination lock.... a bit fearful...........
She sure was a good looker and was kind, and did like him .................. and he her too.
He really should have framed and hung his rejection notice from the Guggenheim, it was something to be proud of.
You don't get satiated without hunger.
The Rejection Notice From The Guggenheim.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
The Savage Martyr Islands Of The Florida Keys
Maybe I should have named the book 'The open Beach Towel'. or beach blanket bingo... oh yes that's been used hasn't it?
Well, Something cute.
Check the correct box.. for a certain outcome
Fabricated dull story's.......
Maybe that is an acquired taste of moderna readership ? I am allowed to be cynical is it my blog I think.
You know if you look at the old charts... The Florida Keys are noted as LOS MARTYRS... I am sure that is because it was a lovely place.
NO drinking Water, Hostile Natives.... they were called the 5 tribes of the MUSPA for your edification... I have it on good word... That of a Crack Head, he claimed to be half Indian... HOWE KEY Was named after his forefather... you know just North of Big Pine Key there... in the Florida Keys... his other half was English Man.... well so he said........ They moved The Spanish loot out of Watsons Hammock up into Paolita up in the Everglades... over one hundred years ago, a golden bell even..... try going up in there my buddy did and got run out at the barrel of a gun.... ya go try it... I suggest you do especially if your a White Man.... after all you deserve the Gold.
Back to Steve:
Or as Barefoot Mike would have so eloquently called him .. "A Pure Out Nut".. non the less his reams of hand written notes a verbal history put to paper in longhand on the sketchy history of the smiling Islands also known as the Fabulous Florida Keys... South and West of Miami... was indeed an interesting read... You know the note book papers stuffed in a long gone cardboard box... it contents returned to the person I had borrowed them from ... John Reid.... sorry the rest of you missed it.
A full decade before John Vieles wonderful history books came out.
The Natives were originally nice to ship wreck victims... but good old humanity of the Spaniards had to kick in of course... and to dictate to the natives how their nomadic... free life was not good for them ... and put them over fires and cooked them etc... they finally got hip... sort of understandable... don't you think? Probably not.
and turned murderous... Don't believe me? Just ask Fontenada.......
Its a sketchy early history, but non the less an interesting one... that of Paradise.. there was the Massacre up on Indian Key.... did you know before that 400 Frenchmen were slaughtered up there?
Oh and the Perrines.... hiding under the Dock.. as the Natives went on a rampage and burned them out....
I take special glee in the group of Natives that never did surrender in the Everglades.. and made good their escape by Canoe Across the Florida Straights... Into Red Bay Andros....
They are still there today... going there 20 years back I had to hide my camera.... even then...
So tell me how wonderful your 300.00 a night room is... then think about the ground it is sitting on.
Back to the book/screenplay...... The Savage Martyr Islands Of The Florida Keys.. that is about my 30 plus year window of opportunity... to meet some of the greatest most interesting of folks... from the seeming bums to the CEO'S of major Corporations .. and the interesting Hollywood ... Makers from Disney Home Entertainment division Robert Chapek............ as well as my having bumped into George Clooney in a convertible sitting next to a blond in front of Co's Co's restaurant while I was picking up cigarette butts...inquiring of me a good place for breakfast , I sent him in and my recommending a good dive shop to Robert Downey Jr. and then meeting Alan Schwartz.. and working on his 26' Aquasports engine Carbs..., Sherwood's brother... of Gilligans Island notoriety ... Oh him! yes, and his lovely wife the original Wrigleys Gum Twins, Jane I believe it was, if I recall correctly and of course Marty the Mouthwash drinker.......... who would roll up on his bicycle and sing Elvis 'Love me Tender Love me True before asking me for .27 putting that all in the same sentence.... was so easy.
Well you just never know who you will meet just across the street.... do you? Keep your eyes open.
Nobody likes a Name Dropper.
So impetuous I almost got shot at the No Name Pub... once... years ago for running my mouth.
John. americanworkmule@gmail.com
Well, Something cute.
Check the correct box.. for a certain outcome
Fabricated dull story's.......
Maybe that is an acquired taste of moderna readership ? I am allowed to be cynical is it my blog I think.
You know if you look at the old charts... The Florida Keys are noted as LOS MARTYRS... I am sure that is because it was a lovely place.
NO drinking Water, Hostile Natives.... they were called the 5 tribes of the MUSPA for your edification... I have it on good word... That of a Crack Head, he claimed to be half Indian... HOWE KEY Was named after his forefather... you know just North of Big Pine Key there... in the Florida Keys... his other half was English Man.... well so he said........ They moved The Spanish loot out of Watsons Hammock up into Paolita up in the Everglades... over one hundred years ago, a golden bell even..... try going up in there my buddy did and got run out at the barrel of a gun.... ya go try it... I suggest you do especially if your a White Man.... after all you deserve the Gold.
Back to Steve:
Or as Barefoot Mike would have so eloquently called him .. "A Pure Out Nut".. non the less his reams of hand written notes a verbal history put to paper in longhand on the sketchy history of the smiling Islands also known as the Fabulous Florida Keys... South and West of Miami... was indeed an interesting read... You know the note book papers stuffed in a long gone cardboard box... it contents returned to the person I had borrowed them from ... John Reid.... sorry the rest of you missed it.
A full decade before John Vieles wonderful history books came out.
The Natives were originally nice to ship wreck victims... but good old humanity of the Spaniards had to kick in of course... and to dictate to the natives how their nomadic... free life was not good for them ... and put them over fires and cooked them etc... they finally got hip... sort of understandable... don't you think? Probably not.
and turned murderous... Don't believe me? Just ask Fontenada.......
Its a sketchy early history, but non the less an interesting one... that of Paradise.. there was the Massacre up on Indian Key.... did you know before that 400 Frenchmen were slaughtered up there?
Oh and the Perrines.... hiding under the Dock.. as the Natives went on a rampage and burned them out....
I take special glee in the group of Natives that never did surrender in the Everglades.. and made good their escape by Canoe Across the Florida Straights... Into Red Bay Andros....
They are still there today... going there 20 years back I had to hide my camera.... even then...
So tell me how wonderful your 300.00 a night room is... then think about the ground it is sitting on.
Back to the book/screenplay...... The Savage Martyr Islands Of The Florida Keys.. that is about my 30 plus year window of opportunity... to meet some of the greatest most interesting of folks... from the seeming bums to the CEO'S of major Corporations .. and the interesting Hollywood ... Makers from Disney Home Entertainment division Robert Chapek............ as well as my having bumped into George Clooney in a convertible sitting next to a blond in front of Co's Co's restaurant while I was picking up cigarette butts...inquiring of me a good place for breakfast , I sent him in and my recommending a good dive shop to Robert Downey Jr. and then meeting Alan Schwartz.. and working on his 26' Aquasports engine Carbs..., Sherwood's brother... of Gilligans Island notoriety ... Oh him! yes, and his lovely wife the original Wrigleys Gum Twins, Jane I believe it was, if I recall correctly and of course Marty the Mouthwash drinker.......... who would roll up on his bicycle and sing Elvis 'Love me Tender Love me True before asking me for .27 putting that all in the same sentence.... was so easy.
Well you just never know who you will meet just across the street.... do you? Keep your eyes open.
Nobody likes a Name Dropper.
So impetuous I almost got shot at the No Name Pub... once... years ago for running my mouth.
John. americanworkmule@gmail.com
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
The Uncanny Quality of Crying Hard Through The Myth
What do we see?
Wandering through the New Mexico Desert?
I am with my friend Mark... his nick name was Mark the Moment.
He was in it.
Then I ran into Craig who was bitching.... what was I doing on the property line... did I not know the neighbors would be upset?... I explained to him I was Lost and trying to find Lyle a mutual friend.. and there was nothing to fear.
Yes, but the neighbors had guns he warned me, and no telling what they may do.
Though he recognized me they might not.... he could not assure me I would be safe...
Oh the Junk cars in the Desert...
I had simply stopped to take a piss... and now I was lost... as Lyle knew the way.. and he went on without me.
Man you could see for miles and miles and miles... nothingness... everythingness ............ (you like that I made up a word) you can put it up in the cloud as a new word....
anyway... my greatest concern was my conjecture of the reality.... one could run out of water and perish...
its no game out west, or actually it is.... survive.
Fritter the years away.... it is no small task... yet goes so fast.
The orders were coming in so fast from all directions he needed a spring rake to accumulate the money into a pile..............
Like confetti at a ticker tape parade..... you know like after our boys returned at the end of the second world war.... I have seen it in movies....
hoo rah.... talk about generating a feeling of overall well being...... those must of been some tearful feel good moments.
There they were every man and woman in love emanating magical notes with each other.... Glenn Miller Playing off in the distance....
He played the role of dancing, she cry's hard riding through the myth....... He thinks to himself
Being normal sure as hell ain't gonna cut it with her.
Well at least it had not been with any delectable he had ever encountered ..... it was his experience you simply keep them entertained for a while at your expense.......
and to think all my shit is going up into a cloud................. The Ascension .........................should I thank chrome book or the N.S.A.?
hoe de doe dee............... The Uncanny Quality of Crying Hard Through The Myth.
The Howler Monkeys are at it outside my window.
We have something in common, this time of morning.
Wandering through the New Mexico Desert?
I am with my friend Mark... his nick name was Mark the Moment.
He was in it.
Then I ran into Craig who was bitching.... what was I doing on the property line... did I not know the neighbors would be upset?... I explained to him I was Lost and trying to find Lyle a mutual friend.. and there was nothing to fear.
Yes, but the neighbors had guns he warned me, and no telling what they may do.
Though he recognized me they might not.... he could not assure me I would be safe...
Oh the Junk cars in the Desert...
I had simply stopped to take a piss... and now I was lost... as Lyle knew the way.. and he went on without me.
Man you could see for miles and miles and miles... nothingness... everythingness ............ (you like that I made up a word) you can put it up in the cloud as a new word....
anyway... my greatest concern was my conjecture of the reality.... one could run out of water and perish...
its no game out west, or actually it is.... survive.
Fritter the years away.... it is no small task... yet goes so fast.
The orders were coming in so fast from all directions he needed a spring rake to accumulate the money into a pile..............
Like confetti at a ticker tape parade..... you know like after our boys returned at the end of the second world war.... I have seen it in movies....
hoo rah.... talk about generating a feeling of overall well being...... those must of been some tearful feel good moments.
There they were every man and woman in love emanating magical notes with each other.... Glenn Miller Playing off in the distance....
He played the role of dancing, she cry's hard riding through the myth....... He thinks to himself
Being normal sure as hell ain't gonna cut it with her.
Well at least it had not been with any delectable he had ever encountered ..... it was his experience you simply keep them entertained for a while at your expense.......
and to think all my shit is going up into a cloud................. The Ascension .........................should I thank chrome book or the N.S.A.?
hoe de doe dee............... The Uncanny Quality of Crying Hard Through The Myth.
The Howler Monkeys are at it outside my window.
We have something in common, this time of morning.
Monday, June 22, 2015
Blanco y Negro
Living the things we think. Living our I.D. You know our identification... and the metal tag out on the cart.
The permission of fools........ as we attempt to distinguish between black and white.
Who is the failure?
The permission of fools........ as we attempt to distinguish between black and white.
Who is the failure?
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Rummaging through an Old Box of Genetic D.N.A. Strand Material.... Make up Kit..
And what did I find... but a little yellowing weathered note saying the following;
The Proprietor's of Society:
Angle to put you on the straight and narrow work path.......
While they themselves............. angle and Scam to stay
in their positions of comfort by any means possible at your expense.
See how it works?
Or reiterate and read again.
Found: Rummaging through an Old Box of Genetic D.N.A. Strand Material Make up kit.
Anonymous .
The Proprietor's of Society:
Angle to put you on the straight and narrow work path.......
While they themselves............. angle and Scam to stay
in their positions of comfort by any means possible at your expense.
See how it works?
Or reiterate and read again.
Found: Rummaging through an Old Box of Genetic D.N.A. Strand Material Make up kit.
Anonymous .
Sleeping In A Dead Poets House.
Let me ask you something my dear nearly nil readership,
If you slept in a dead poets house, when a few years earlier you made a couple of video poetry readings of the said poets poems .. in tribute to him.....
Then you found yourself with the opportunity to actually sleep in the house he lived in as a child, and wrote his poetry and prose then placed your hands upon an Avocado tree in the back yard that was mentioned in regard to some of his poetry having been written beneath it .. some 80 years earlier....and the tree is still living surmising The Tree may have seen.
Then you proceeded to sleep in the night and have a dream in which 12 provocative slogans for a T-Shirt line came to you... popping up and down turning on and off the light.. to see.......
These T shirts are for Women only.... and they are to be worn as nighties... they are solid white XL with black block lettering.... a tad naughty.
With slogans that are slightly provocative ... with sexual innuendo.... nothing filthy.... would you pursue the endeavor?
In hopes of amassing some filthy lucre... to fatten a debit card... and heighten your esteem would you go for it?
Sleeping in a Dead Poets House.
If you slept in a dead poets house, when a few years earlier you made a couple of video poetry readings of the said poets poems .. in tribute to him.....
Then you found yourself with the opportunity to actually sleep in the house he lived in as a child, and wrote his poetry and prose then placed your hands upon an Avocado tree in the back yard that was mentioned in regard to some of his poetry having been written beneath it .. some 80 years earlier....and the tree is still living surmising The Tree may have seen.
Then you proceeded to sleep in the night and have a dream in which 12 provocative slogans for a T-Shirt line came to you... popping up and down turning on and off the light.. to see.......
These T shirts are for Women only.... and they are to be worn as nighties... they are solid white XL with black block lettering.... a tad naughty.
With slogans that are slightly provocative ... with sexual innuendo.... nothing filthy.... would you pursue the endeavor?
In hopes of amassing some filthy lucre... to fatten a debit card... and heighten your esteem would you go for it?
Sleeping in a Dead Poets House.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Weary World Travelers and throwing pictures of the past away. (THE SAGA OF WOOLY MIKE)
He could see in their weary eyes.... that traveling the World was not all that easy.... not all that it was cracked up to be Maybe the weary showed up more in the whites of her eyes then his ... he was not sure... their body's were filthy and caked in dirt and shit, She still appeared to have potential for sexual vigor in his estimation. His estimations were generally quite accurate.. he was a trained Pro, in many strange fields.
He was remembering all the to do well's... whom had worked a lifetime in anticipation of sailing their own yachts around the World...and how many rescuers it took to fly out in the UH1N twin engine model Huey Helicopter .... and making the Emergency evacuation a couple of hundred miles out to sea.... Several times With the MK Ultra boys... in those days they were the only ones nuts enough... they had some special designation.... I don't know or remember what it was he mentioned S.A.R. out at A.U.T.E.C. The Bahamas so called area 51 on Andros adjacent to the deep trench of ocean called the tongue of the ocean, he received some brand of training, It was a recruitment company for a certain agency .. he did not even know it at the time, that was the idea. He wound up in the Florida Keys for a Reason, like so many.
in his case he had taken a blow to the head when some shit had fallen from overhead....At the Jet fuel farm. He figured he would get compensated about the time Hell Freezes over... and that was perfectly fine with him.....
He remembers the winch unspooling rescue cable and the electrical static discharge snapping noise it made as it touched the wet deck.. of the Cheoy Lee...pow! beneath the rotors as they whirled and then his clambering on board the tossing vessel ... the smell of Puke wafting up from the hell of the below's ......
The Captain was sitting sick on the cabins floor... in sloshing bilge water tainted with diesel he was there in a weird sort of Lotus position... with a Psychotropic appearing Trance look in his eyes calling out just get me off of this damn Tub.... young man, as it was heaving.. in the highs seas and him saying I don't care where... you take.. her...Scuttle her take her to the nearest port of call... I don't give a damn... as he wretched his guts out over the low rail...into the sea ... then he scrawls his Name with letters of Doctorate in tandem ... on the release form.. and agrees to Pay.... U.S. Dollars from the U.S.S.V. Bank of Disappointment ..... life's disasters branch....... Some Where off of Southern California Coast in high Seas......
As the young air crewman looked into their tired eyes he could say to himself and remember ... ' You would make quite a piece of paper.' Yes that you would.
I guess he was referring to a future story, perhaps even this one, He was a much younger and stronger self then.. The only thing he could say or think as he did not want to be rude was.. to the yachts owner , after all .... He was there to help, that was the name of his gnarly game. ' You would make quite a piece of paper' yes you would, perhaps the old rich man may have been better off if he had chosen to spend his youth in pursuit of circumnavigating the globe... in some old tarred up sailing Scow while still in his youth? Well it was too late now.
He hoped he himself took away a lesson... Youth is only spent once at what it is you are doing.... and you are advised it better be doing what you love as much as possible.
Or at least tempered with your Passion.... but better yet, wholeheartedly .... engaged somehow.
He did feel for them... he really did... I am sure of it.
As a young man he looked into the eyes of the older Weary World Travelers and throwing pictures of the past away .
The Saga of Wooly Mike, The Last he heard he had moved to Costa Rica. And was looking down at the Ocean.
He was remembering all the to do well's... whom had worked a lifetime in anticipation of sailing their own yachts around the World...and how many rescuers it took to fly out in the UH1N twin engine model Huey Helicopter .... and making the Emergency evacuation a couple of hundred miles out to sea.... Several times With the MK Ultra boys... in those days they were the only ones nuts enough... they had some special designation.... I don't know or remember what it was he mentioned S.A.R. out at A.U.T.E.C. The Bahamas so called area 51 on Andros adjacent to the deep trench of ocean called the tongue of the ocean, he received some brand of training, It was a recruitment company for a certain agency .. he did not even know it at the time, that was the idea. He wound up in the Florida Keys for a Reason, like so many.
in his case he had taken a blow to the head when some shit had fallen from overhead....At the Jet fuel farm. He figured he would get compensated about the time Hell Freezes over... and that was perfectly fine with him.....
He remembers the winch unspooling rescue cable and the electrical static discharge snapping noise it made as it touched the wet deck.. of the Cheoy Lee...pow! beneath the rotors as they whirled and then his clambering on board the tossing vessel ... the smell of Puke wafting up from the hell of the below's ......
The Captain was sitting sick on the cabins floor... in sloshing bilge water tainted with diesel he was there in a weird sort of Lotus position... with a Psychotropic appearing Trance look in his eyes calling out just get me off of this damn Tub.... young man, as it was heaving.. in the highs seas and him saying I don't care where... you take.. her...Scuttle her take her to the nearest port of call... I don't give a damn... as he wretched his guts out over the low rail...into the sea ... then he scrawls his Name with letters of Doctorate in tandem ... on the release form.. and agrees to Pay.... U.S. Dollars from the U.S.S.V. Bank of Disappointment ..... life's disasters branch....... Some Where off of Southern California Coast in high Seas......
As the young air crewman looked into their tired eyes he could say to himself and remember ... ' You would make quite a piece of paper.' Yes that you would.
I guess he was referring to a future story, perhaps even this one, He was a much younger and stronger self then.. The only thing he could say or think as he did not want to be rude was.. to the yachts owner , after all .... He was there to help, that was the name of his gnarly game. ' You would make quite a piece of paper' yes you would, perhaps the old rich man may have been better off if he had chosen to spend his youth in pursuit of circumnavigating the globe... in some old tarred up sailing Scow while still in his youth? Well it was too late now.
He hoped he himself took away a lesson... Youth is only spent once at what it is you are doing.... and you are advised it better be doing what you love as much as possible.
Or at least tempered with your Passion.... but better yet, wholeheartedly .... engaged somehow.
He did feel for them... he really did... I am sure of it.
As a young man he looked into the eyes of the older Weary World Travelers and throwing pictures of the past away .
The Saga of Wooly Mike, The Last he heard he had moved to Costa Rica. And was looking down at the Ocean.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
The Association Of The Derogatory
Ever since a little boy... he heard that expression ........ "Marches to the beat of a different drummer"
Why when was the first time he heard that?
Who said it?
He finds out 50 years later it was Mr. Thoreau... well supposedly .... he ponders it could be true.
Now a Judge may sit... and tell you hearing things is not healthy..... but an Artist... will possibly be hailed as one of the greatest things of all time.... for hearing things from celestial body's , He guesses it may depend on the persuasion tactics used....
Its war fare of sorts...... perhaps non violent war fare... he suggests to himself well, it could be deemed emotional violence.
There was this doddering old drunk guy at the restaurant the other night... a Gecko on the ceiling took a shit and it went right into his glass of wine....
He suggested it was The Blessed wine... it had been enhanced... and that he should drink it.
I rather like the expression my friend Kelly .. used once.. while sitting at a table at the Hotel Chirripo in San Isidro with a conspiracy theorist.........and myself.
"NUTTY BUDDY" so and so is a Nutty Buddy.......
or perhaps just has a keenly analytical mind.
The Association of the Derogatory unless famous of course.
Why when was the first time he heard that?
Who said it?
He finds out 50 years later it was Mr. Thoreau... well supposedly .... he ponders it could be true.
Now a Judge may sit... and tell you hearing things is not healthy..... but an Artist... will possibly be hailed as one of the greatest things of all time.... for hearing things from celestial body's , He guesses it may depend on the persuasion tactics used....
Its war fare of sorts...... perhaps non violent war fare... he suggests to himself well, it could be deemed emotional violence.
There was this doddering old drunk guy at the restaurant the other night... a Gecko on the ceiling took a shit and it went right into his glass of wine....
He suggested it was The Blessed wine... it had been enhanced... and that he should drink it.
I rather like the expression my friend Kelly .. used once.. while sitting at a table at the Hotel Chirripo in San Isidro with a conspiracy theorist.........and myself.
"NUTTY BUDDY" so and so is a Nutty Buddy.......
or perhaps just has a keenly analytical mind.
The Association of the Derogatory unless famous of course.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
The Glorious Bus Ride
Lovely I noticed my return ticket had been dated wrong..... oopsie..... Delicious looking Fatima... the hat check girl at the bus station changed it for me with out a fuss..... how amazing.....
She told me she was sorry but had to change the seat number.... I started to cry, she laughed....
see, I could make her smile and like it.
Then I told her I can sit on the floor... she cracked again.....
As glorious fortune had it... I was just in front of the the non to recently cleaned potty and well it sort of wafted of the smell of urine.... ugh........... I cracked the window just a titch and put my nose up to it to breath like a dog...... leaning forward.... the 4 hours just drifted by nothing to it, delightful..... the border was a typical joy.... no fuss no muss... like a whirlwind sucked in on one side and coming flying out the other and just one extra stop on the other side for good measure where the Commandante' decided to pleasure us all with an additional boarding and review of every ones Passport... and show us his glistening side arm.... I do believe that was a 9mm... the fellow with the Mausberg was waiting outside... they are just for looks I am sure. They could be made of black plastic for all I know... but I kind of doubt it.
Where there are Cottonwood Trees there is usually water nearby.
She told me she was sorry but had to change the seat number.... I started to cry, she laughed....
see, I could make her smile and like it.
Then I told her I can sit on the floor... she cracked again.....
As glorious fortune had it... I was just in front of the the non to recently cleaned potty and well it sort of wafted of the smell of urine.... ugh........... I cracked the window just a titch and put my nose up to it to breath like a dog...... leaning forward.... the 4 hours just drifted by nothing to it, delightful..... the border was a typical joy.... no fuss no muss... like a whirlwind sucked in on one side and coming flying out the other and just one extra stop on the other side for good measure where the Commandante' decided to pleasure us all with an additional boarding and review of every ones Passport... and show us his glistening side arm.... I do believe that was a 9mm... the fellow with the Mausberg was waiting outside... they are just for looks I am sure. They could be made of black plastic for all I know... but I kind of doubt it.
Where there are Cottonwood Trees there is usually water nearby.
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Humdinger of a night...
Don't you just love rude people?
The expression 'were you raised in a barn?' comes to my mind.
I have been eating at the same Chinese restaurant for the last three nights... however the food I am eating must be a distant cousin..... This massive heap of fresh Plantain chips comes out with a big piece of chicken bones and all sitting on top and smothered in raw cabbage shredded into lengthy Angel hair.. and some sweet fried plantains.. for the whopping sum of like 90 Cordobas... or Cordubas as I like to incorrectly call them.
I had ginger ale with that wonderful heap last evening... a Coca Cola the night before and the night before that a shot of 7 year old Flor De Cane Rum.... it seems I am not inclined to booze it up these days...
I guess I am turning into a wimp.
I used to really take pride in drinking others under the table.... Not anymore.
Oddly no big deal... for me... perhaps I am one of the fortunate few with a non addictive personality .. you know that catchy little phrase.... whatever the fuck it really means.... I can take it or leave it always have been able to and I used to down a 1.75 of Gin a week... does that count...?
I have been so enjoying the peace here.... the peace of bird sound chaos... and the roosters.. and Cats yowling has been intriguing me.
The Humans came last night over my head... like Darkish Angels in the room above.... How many fucking times do you have to slam that door... and that damn Cha Cha music.. I almost had a mind snap... the thought crossed my mind to go on a rampage... with a broom handle on the ceiling... and Scream What the Fuck!
I am in and of my beautiful sleep and WHAM! The door a fucking again? Come on.... What in the tarnation is wrong with you?
Around 3 ish it mellowed... I could have had the whole place in an uproar... fighting even I bet.... I can be a pretty good antagonist.... if I choose that path... I do try not to... it can be so unpleasant... not worth it.
I would rather grope for a xanax and wait 30 minutes on the beds edge... its a much better outcome.. for all involved.
However with all the up and down for me last night... I came up with a great line for T- Shirts.. with interesting Slogans... 12 of them even.... and they are for girls only on a Mans Fruit of The Loom X-L to be worn as a nightie...
Unless you are a brave man I suppose.. They are only going to come in one size and one color White with black block lettering... nice and simple, for the mindless... types.
They just came popping off in my head... I must of had a visitation.... the hardest part was getting up and reaching for the light so I could see to write... I consoled myself that it could be construed as some form of exercise and that would be good for my lazy ass...
I have been walking so much my calves hurt... poor little cows.... Maybe I will take a taxi up to the bus terminal.
But first I will find something to eat.
Humdinger of a night.
The expression 'were you raised in a barn?' comes to my mind.
I have been eating at the same Chinese restaurant for the last three nights... however the food I am eating must be a distant cousin..... This massive heap of fresh Plantain chips comes out with a big piece of chicken bones and all sitting on top and smothered in raw cabbage shredded into lengthy Angel hair.. and some sweet fried plantains.. for the whopping sum of like 90 Cordobas... or Cordubas as I like to incorrectly call them.
I had ginger ale with that wonderful heap last evening... a Coca Cola the night before and the night before that a shot of 7 year old Flor De Cane Rum.... it seems I am not inclined to booze it up these days...
I guess I am turning into a wimp.
I used to really take pride in drinking others under the table.... Not anymore.
Oddly no big deal... for me... perhaps I am one of the fortunate few with a non addictive personality .. you know that catchy little phrase.... whatever the fuck it really means.... I can take it or leave it always have been able to and I used to down a 1.75 of Gin a week... does that count...?
I have been so enjoying the peace here.... the peace of bird sound chaos... and the roosters.. and Cats yowling has been intriguing me.
The Humans came last night over my head... like Darkish Angels in the room above.... How many fucking times do you have to slam that door... and that damn Cha Cha music.. I almost had a mind snap... the thought crossed my mind to go on a rampage... with a broom handle on the ceiling... and Scream What the Fuck!
I am in and of my beautiful sleep and WHAM! The door a fucking again? Come on.... What in the tarnation is wrong with you?
Around 3 ish it mellowed... I could have had the whole place in an uproar... fighting even I bet.... I can be a pretty good antagonist.... if I choose that path... I do try not to... it can be so unpleasant... not worth it.
I would rather grope for a xanax and wait 30 minutes on the beds edge... its a much better outcome.. for all involved.
However with all the up and down for me last night... I came up with a great line for T- Shirts.. with interesting Slogans... 12 of them even.... and they are for girls only on a Mans Fruit of The Loom X-L to be worn as a nightie...
Unless you are a brave man I suppose.. They are only going to come in one size and one color White with black block lettering... nice and simple, for the mindless... types.
They just came popping off in my head... I must of had a visitation.... the hardest part was getting up and reaching for the light so I could see to write... I consoled myself that it could be construed as some form of exercise and that would be good for my lazy ass...
I have been walking so much my calves hurt... poor little cows.... Maybe I will take a taxi up to the bus terminal.
But first I will find something to eat.
Humdinger of a night.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Here comes Dawn at the Guest House Hostel Casa Del Poeta In Granada Nicaragua.
Dawn, Ever so early she rises Monday:
Yesterday a gaggle of children unknowingly escorted me and my green back pack down the La Calzada, East towards Lake Nicaragua and to the Red Gates that enter the guest house and Hostel Casa Poeta... they were naughty and pulled the prank immortal in time...... they rang the guest bell and scurried down the street as not to be caught.
My good luck omen .... preceded me and was laughing as it ran off.... with the children, I rang the bell for the second time...
The ventilator blocks above my head hold an ornate design...a 4 leafed flower I can only suppose...
The floor is of tile.... a large block center of Red...then Green and then a narrower strip of milky white and what my imagination tells me is a meandering river that flows in a square around the room between fuller crescent moons.... and then another boarder of green, Red then distant fields of green then red yet again... beautifully thought out and laid... by whom? how long ago? I can only wonder... so exacting.
A painting of a Priestess hangs on the wall... and another as if looking through reeds? I am not certain.. art is interpretive , so I have always been told.
I heard singing voices...
It was Sunday I spent several hours at the Park down by the Lakes edge... in observation, walking and moving through the shade from bench to bench...
Hundreds of families ... in commotion .... a family walks by... the father is pushing a snow cone cart... the mother has a small green parrot perched on her hand its wings clipped...It attempts to fly off frantic it beats its shortened wings to no avail but to stir air. The boy has caught a wild squirrel
and holding it on his back in the palm of his hand... the father takes a knife and cuts a strip of cloth to make the squirrel a leash... how odd I thought what others might think of it in disdain perhaps... he tethered the squirrel ... it jumped and came to a halting jerk... The father bellows a hearty laugh as it came to a snapping halt.... the second time it escaped... took off running , the boy in pursuit... the boy chased and stepped on the squirrels tail. the squirrel let out a mighty chirp....
He had captured it again... meanwhile the little girl had taken the Small green Parrot from her mothers hand and was crouched with the bird now perched on her hand and holding it beneath the bottom edge of the snow cone cart under a drip from the melting Ice... it was having a nice refreshing cold shower.. and nipping at the water for a drink....
A woman passes with a rather large plate perfectly balanced atop her head hands free.. full of Empenadas or something wrapped in green banana leaves and tied with twine.
Young men are out in the distance on the shoreline throwing a hard ball I presume... and at great distances...
I thought of a Frisbee.... and wondered.
An older Sister picks up a younger one and holds her upside down.. and they giggle.
A mother yells for her little daughter to come in closer... it must be the same the world over... maternal instinct.
Food, Food, Food , vendors patrolling everywhere... Pizza... two slices for 30 Cordobas or 1.10
I am fixated with the price of everything... and with... all these family values around..
People, Souls in the midst of living .
One could eat until they burst in this park on Sunday... consuming a mix.... of sights and sounds.....
Monday:
A dog barks... a rooster crows in the distance... birds chirp.... and a Cat yowls in heat.
Its peaceful in a symphony of natural chaos.
Yesterday a gaggle of children unknowingly escorted me and my green back pack down the La Calzada, East towards Lake Nicaragua and to the Red Gates that enter the guest house and Hostel Casa Poeta... they were naughty and pulled the prank immortal in time...... they rang the guest bell and scurried down the street as not to be caught.
My good luck omen .... preceded me and was laughing as it ran off.... with the children, I rang the bell for the second time...
The ventilator blocks above my head hold an ornate design...a 4 leafed flower I can only suppose...
The floor is of tile.... a large block center of Red...then Green and then a narrower strip of milky white and what my imagination tells me is a meandering river that flows in a square around the room between fuller crescent moons.... and then another boarder of green, Red then distant fields of green then red yet again... beautifully thought out and laid... by whom? how long ago? I can only wonder... so exacting.
A painting of a Priestess hangs on the wall... and another as if looking through reeds? I am not certain.. art is interpretive , so I have always been told.
I heard singing voices...
It was Sunday I spent several hours at the Park down by the Lakes edge... in observation, walking and moving through the shade from bench to bench...
Hundreds of families ... in commotion .... a family walks by... the father is pushing a snow cone cart... the mother has a small green parrot perched on her hand its wings clipped...It attempts to fly off frantic it beats its shortened wings to no avail but to stir air. The boy has caught a wild squirrel
and holding it on his back in the palm of his hand... the father takes a knife and cuts a strip of cloth to make the squirrel a leash... how odd I thought what others might think of it in disdain perhaps... he tethered the squirrel ... it jumped and came to a halting jerk... The father bellows a hearty laugh as it came to a snapping halt.... the second time it escaped... took off running , the boy in pursuit... the boy chased and stepped on the squirrels tail. the squirrel let out a mighty chirp....
He had captured it again... meanwhile the little girl had taken the Small green Parrot from her mothers hand and was crouched with the bird now perched on her hand and holding it beneath the bottom edge of the snow cone cart under a drip from the melting Ice... it was having a nice refreshing cold shower.. and nipping at the water for a drink....
A woman passes with a rather large plate perfectly balanced atop her head hands free.. full of Empenadas or something wrapped in green banana leaves and tied with twine.
Young men are out in the distance on the shoreline throwing a hard ball I presume... and at great distances...
I thought of a Frisbee.... and wondered.
An older Sister picks up a younger one and holds her upside down.. and they giggle.
A mother yells for her little daughter to come in closer... it must be the same the world over... maternal instinct.
Food, Food, Food , vendors patrolling everywhere... Pizza... two slices for 30 Cordobas or 1.10
I am fixated with the price of everything... and with... all these family values around..
People, Souls in the midst of living .
One could eat until they burst in this park on Sunday... consuming a mix.... of sights and sounds.....
Monday:
A dog barks... a rooster crows in the distance... birds chirp.... and a Cat yowls in heat.
Its peaceful in a symphony of natural chaos.
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Sweet Caroline...
Who remembers the Neil Diamond Song.. Sweet Caroline? Perhaps a better question who does not?
"La La La .. La La La La La .... Sweet Caroline.... where it began " etc.....
I had not seen her in years.. and just so happened there she was sitting at a cafe with two young people at her table and I was sitting across from them with my father at ours...
she was always the ribbing and poking type... I yelled an introduction to her of my father across the room judging from the subtle reaction, I thought they know each other... they just ain't saying....
she bellowed back wanting to know if I had arrived yet?... I guess that was a snide remark.... Yes as a matter of fact I had... I spoke in return at her..
It was really funny you know.... I was the one that remarked to her years earlier.. if there is something you want to do in life you better get on with it..... she must of been listening.. because next time I visited with her she told me her dream was to ride upon an Elephant... You have got to be shitting me I thought... I know dreams differ , but you What! Ride on an Elephant? What a nut.
So then she decided to go to Thailand to go ride an Elephant ... and wanted me to be her Escort... she would buy my ticket... oh break my heart. I was already thinking about tapping a lovely Thai Woman...
Elephants my ass.
There was quite an age difference between us and she was getting frail... wound up she had another Bo who lived in Thailand...that had been a student of hers... some years earlier and she later found out after the meaning well false promise he actually lived over there and he goes and invites her... well guess what? guess who did not get to go?... the plans and promise of going on such an adventure were retracted without a word .. ( Gear lever handle up) oh thanks that is swell.... I thought. boo hoo.
However in lieu we did go to the Circus up in Miami... and sat so close to the elephants you could smell their shit.
They would not let us back stage.... you can imagine how disappointed I was....
I would drive her around in her brand new car... and had to stop every 5 minutes for her to go to the Bathroom... Try that in the dangerous part of town...Liberty City is simply enchanted, it was kind of fun.
So anyway...... I did work for her for years... even 20 of them.... you know off and on....
She loved STOOP labor and I suppose she really had it with me STOOP labor that is....
towards the end , I guess it is the end... I was bathing her precious wiener dog... you know those Dachshund's ..... what a loving joy that was...
She even went on about how they , the professional groomers squeezed the animals Anal glands...
I had to decline at that point.... She was a bit theatrical.... the way she would say my name... John...
you have to kind of spread it out as you say it Jooooooooooohn.... yes dear?
What do you want now? Why sure I can bend over backwards and break my back for you.
anything else.... would you like to make a snippy remark?.... why sure go right ahead. I enjoy those.
Did the Frangipani I planted for you ever bloom? Was it the right color? How did it smell, you know I heard they make Channel #5 out of that fragrance some how.
I am glad we went to the Circus together... even though I really did not care for it as much as you did.
But I did love the years of STOOP labor............ Your theatrics as belle of the Plantation.. always amused me in some odd way.... If you had been a couple of decades younger I am pretty sure I would have given you a good spanking and pounded your ass.... hard and I know you would not have minded.
I am afraid of Osteoporosis.
but alas the stars were out of Synchronicity... for us love.
Glad you got to go to Thailand.
John Stoop Labor.
"La La La .. La La La La La .... Sweet Caroline.... where it began " etc.....
I had not seen her in years.. and just so happened there she was sitting at a cafe with two young people at her table and I was sitting across from them with my father at ours...
she was always the ribbing and poking type... I yelled an introduction to her of my father across the room judging from the subtle reaction, I thought they know each other... they just ain't saying....
she bellowed back wanting to know if I had arrived yet?... I guess that was a snide remark.... Yes as a matter of fact I had... I spoke in return at her..
It was really funny you know.... I was the one that remarked to her years earlier.. if there is something you want to do in life you better get on with it..... she must of been listening.. because next time I visited with her she told me her dream was to ride upon an Elephant... You have got to be shitting me I thought... I know dreams differ , but you What! Ride on an Elephant? What a nut.
So then she decided to go to Thailand to go ride an Elephant ... and wanted me to be her Escort... she would buy my ticket... oh break my heart. I was already thinking about tapping a lovely Thai Woman...
Elephants my ass.
There was quite an age difference between us and she was getting frail... wound up she had another Bo who lived in Thailand...that had been a student of hers... some years earlier and she later found out after the meaning well false promise he actually lived over there and he goes and invites her... well guess what? guess who did not get to go?... the plans and promise of going on such an adventure were retracted without a word .. ( Gear lever handle up) oh thanks that is swell.... I thought. boo hoo.
However in lieu we did go to the Circus up in Miami... and sat so close to the elephants you could smell their shit.
They would not let us back stage.... you can imagine how disappointed I was....
I would drive her around in her brand new car... and had to stop every 5 minutes for her to go to the Bathroom... Try that in the dangerous part of town...Liberty City is simply enchanted, it was kind of fun.
So anyway...... I did work for her for years... even 20 of them.... you know off and on....
She loved STOOP labor and I suppose she really had it with me STOOP labor that is....
towards the end , I guess it is the end... I was bathing her precious wiener dog... you know those Dachshund's ..... what a loving joy that was...
She even went on about how they , the professional groomers squeezed the animals Anal glands...
I had to decline at that point.... She was a bit theatrical.... the way she would say my name... John...
you have to kind of spread it out as you say it Jooooooooooohn.... yes dear?
What do you want now? Why sure I can bend over backwards and break my back for you.
anything else.... would you like to make a snippy remark?.... why sure go right ahead. I enjoy those.
Did the Frangipani I planted for you ever bloom? Was it the right color? How did it smell, you know I heard they make Channel #5 out of that fragrance some how.
I am glad we went to the Circus together... even though I really did not care for it as much as you did.
But I did love the years of STOOP labor............ Your theatrics as belle of the Plantation.. always amused me in some odd way.... If you had been a couple of decades younger I am pretty sure I would have given you a good spanking and pounded your ass.... hard and I know you would not have minded.
I am afraid of Osteoporosis.
but alas the stars were out of Synchronicity... for us love.
Glad you got to go to Thailand.
John Stoop Labor.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Grappling
Coke Cola, Razors and Cell Phones..............
Secluded book Store........ Eyes peering at you over the tops of corrective lenses.........
Isn't it really something to think you can get a can of Coca Cola in every and any little nook and cranny around the globe?
For years even... and in Countries like Cuba even that have had a trade embargo placed upon them by the Loving and caring Americans for over 5 decades..... I guess it really is who you know?
and then there is this thing of shaving.... recently brought to my attention.. by a couple of my face bookie friends.... it is true isn't it ?... a whole lot of shaving going on... I do it myself... but seldom with out nicking and drawing a bit of blood...
And then of course these Cell Phones altering the course of things........ think about it.. the ebb and flow of humanity's movement and a persons actions are altered and in flux due to it, can you argue the point..? take the cell phones away... who crosses the street? When and where... even in the poorest of nations... everyone is clinging to their communication devices......... altering time and space.
I wonder if hunger or communication is a stronger compulsion?
I barely remember seeing a crank up phone I think... I know I remember the rotary dial.. and of course the push button models of house phone... man those were cool and the rage when they came out...
Well in my mind... they went beep , beep, beep, when you pushed the buttons...
"Listen Kid you paid for the call, you ain't bad but we heard it all before" remember that song?
and then they incorporated the phone tones... how clever........
I was just grappling for something to write about.
and wondering why is it we can never get shit right the first time? and have to edit and edit and edit and edit.. finally coming some of us to the conclusion it is correct or just give a partial shit, and call it good enough as it is....... perhaps even so truth be known.
Excuse me who is it actually calling the shots? You see You see You see... How it works?
Secluded book Store........ Eyes peering at you over the tops of corrective lenses.........
Isn't it really something to think you can get a can of Coca Cola in every and any little nook and cranny around the globe?
For years even... and in Countries like Cuba even that have had a trade embargo placed upon them by the Loving and caring Americans for over 5 decades..... I guess it really is who you know?
and then there is this thing of shaving.... recently brought to my attention.. by a couple of my face bookie friends.... it is true isn't it ?... a whole lot of shaving going on... I do it myself... but seldom with out nicking and drawing a bit of blood...
And then of course these Cell Phones altering the course of things........ think about it.. the ebb and flow of humanity's movement and a persons actions are altered and in flux due to it, can you argue the point..? take the cell phones away... who crosses the street? When and where... even in the poorest of nations... everyone is clinging to their communication devices......... altering time and space.
I wonder if hunger or communication is a stronger compulsion?
I barely remember seeing a crank up phone I think... I know I remember the rotary dial.. and of course the push button models of house phone... man those were cool and the rage when they came out...
Well in my mind... they went beep , beep, beep, when you pushed the buttons...
"Listen Kid you paid for the call, you ain't bad but we heard it all before" remember that song?
and then they incorporated the phone tones... how clever........
I was just grappling for something to write about.
and wondering why is it we can never get shit right the first time? and have to edit and edit and edit and edit.. finally coming some of us to the conclusion it is correct or just give a partial shit, and call it good enough as it is....... perhaps even so truth be known.
Excuse me who is it actually calling the shots? You see You see You see... How it works?
Friday, June 12, 2015
Some Different Kind Of Dream
The Window shades rattled........ the thin metallic louvers , so what? Then the mind started to wonder why, was someone trying to get in? Was it the breeze from the air conditioner mounted high up on the wall... ? maybe it was a big bug....
And he we was having such an explicit dream......... dang it!
Some kind of a Secret you know? Some different kind of dream... crunched up in that room with all those people partying... and that woman sitting in his lap, They were the upper Echelon he guessed after he awoke.
All the drinking and chitty chatty.... pretty aimless....... Party noise........
Then he started to tell his story of flying with the Eagle, a couple of the folks crouched in to hear...
about the Ultralight Aircraft he used to have.. and the Day Gary Bullard came bye in his and asked him to go flying in formation out over the back country... well sure why not.... he did consent........
Spiraling up high... they flew in formation with an Eagle......... out over the far North End of Big Pine Key.. out past Howe Key Way up high...
It seemed his neighbor with the large Jaw... wanted to be friends and they could have been I suppose... they always spoke through the fence... he had even asked him to remain in touch when he left his home of many years...
Maybe he was never meant to mingle with the upper crust.... that was o.k. because he thought it may have well been different under other circumstances... you know when people operate out of the heart rather then concern themselves with what others might think.....
The rattling of the wind on the sun blinds roused him from his slumber and the telling the story of having flown with Eagles... as the few crouched listening showing an interest to hear over the noise of the party.
And he we was having such an explicit dream......... dang it!
Some kind of a Secret you know? Some different kind of dream... crunched up in that room with all those people partying... and that woman sitting in his lap, They were the upper Echelon he guessed after he awoke.
All the drinking and chitty chatty.... pretty aimless....... Party noise........
Then he started to tell his story of flying with the Eagle, a couple of the folks crouched in to hear...
about the Ultralight Aircraft he used to have.. and the Day Gary Bullard came bye in his and asked him to go flying in formation out over the back country... well sure why not.... he did consent........
Spiraling up high... they flew in formation with an Eagle......... out over the far North End of Big Pine Key.. out past Howe Key Way up high...
It seemed his neighbor with the large Jaw... wanted to be friends and they could have been I suppose... they always spoke through the fence... he had even asked him to remain in touch when he left his home of many years...
Maybe he was never meant to mingle with the upper crust.... that was o.k. because he thought it may have well been different under other circumstances... you know when people operate out of the heart rather then concern themselves with what others might think.....
The rattling of the wind on the sun blinds roused him from his slumber and the telling the story of having flown with Eagles... as the few crouched listening showing an interest to hear over the noise of the party.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Tragic viewpoint of the Cat.
The Snapper Entero came out of the kitchen hanging off of both sides of the plate.........The clouds were hanging low..... ominous , rain in the distance.. the sea rolling in at near 10 degrees of Latitude nothing between here and Asia.. but water and floating gyres of swirling plastic.........
A double Gin please.. The good stuff non of that guaro shit like last time ....and another........ he broke off a piece of the fishes crispy tail and ate it as if it were a potato chip then he sucked the eyeballs out of the creatures eye sockets...spitting the hard marbles that are in the center of the eyes out on the floor.... the dog did not want them, then he relished the little pink tongue........... delicious, picking apart the fish is an art form...A regular Picasso at work using his fingers... and messing up the table cloth.... and dripping dipping sauce down down the front of his shirt.... the melted butter and lime smeared around his lips a funky gloss.......... The pretty Lady's at the adjoining table.... he is certain they were impressed, it was sooooooooooo delicious that Snapper.
Couthly the Little doggie Bella was sitting at his feet... smiling.... at attention... for tid bits she will not let the cat near you know.
The cat sits taciturn, across the yard licking her paws. Poor Kitten... Bella you wretched beast how dare you .... so inconsiderate of you.
A double Gin please.. The good stuff non of that guaro shit like last time ....and another........ he broke off a piece of the fishes crispy tail and ate it as if it were a potato chip then he sucked the eyeballs out of the creatures eye sockets...spitting the hard marbles that are in the center of the eyes out on the floor.... the dog did not want them, then he relished the little pink tongue........... delicious, picking apart the fish is an art form...A regular Picasso at work using his fingers... and messing up the table cloth.... and dripping dipping sauce down down the front of his shirt.... the melted butter and lime smeared around his lips a funky gloss.......... The pretty Lady's at the adjoining table.... he is certain they were impressed, it was sooooooooooo delicious that Snapper.
Couthly the Little doggie Bella was sitting at his feet... smiling.... at attention... for tid bits she will not let the cat near you know.
The cat sits taciturn, across the yard licking her paws. Poor Kitten... Bella you wretched beast how dare you .... so inconsiderate of you.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
What Was That Dream...." Aesthetic Beauty"
A recognized gift.. a small package of two words as a gift given, to recognize.
"Aesthetic Beauty"... Thank you White Haired Sir and flat brow Lady.
If I don't recall how can I have interpretations ?
In the present I see a view...... the distant panorama....... before me.
Memories stem from our behavior as I recall....... a past.
How far distant in arrears can I owe myself? I can wonder.
No man can stall me.
Pity.
Hitch Hiking along Some Genetic strand highway... thumb out..........traveling in reverse.
No imposed speed limit.
Hearing of Memory lane... but how about the Memory Autobohn ?
playing, playing, playing, Playful.
A welling up....... "motion creates the emotion"... more kind words I parrot.
odd the thought of petting Bear Shit.
Said the
The Cat faced Butterfly.
To
The Cat faced Bat.
Sneezing on money for Good Luck! ahhh ahhhh Choo... oh the
Exuberance shown is lost after being spent ! Ever notice?
Why doesn't What we got ever recognize What we got, and shake hands?
off they go into the sunset and try to befriend yet more, now that they have conspired.
One day to catch a future glimpse of my recall yet to form from the actions I have not yet taken.
humoring myself.
"Aesthetic Beauty" Gift once given.
That is ALL for the moment.
"Aesthetic Beauty"... Thank you White Haired Sir and flat brow Lady.
If I don't recall how can I have interpretations ?
In the present I see a view...... the distant panorama....... before me.
Memories stem from our behavior as I recall....... a past.
How far distant in arrears can I owe myself? I can wonder.
No man can stall me.
Pity.
Hitch Hiking along Some Genetic strand highway... thumb out..........traveling in reverse.
No imposed speed limit.
Hearing of Memory lane... but how about the Memory Autobohn ?
playing, playing, playing, Playful.
A welling up....... "motion creates the emotion"... more kind words I parrot.
odd the thought of petting Bear Shit.
Said the
The Cat faced Butterfly.
To
The Cat faced Bat.
Sneezing on money for Good Luck! ahhh ahhhh Choo... oh the
Exuberance shown is lost after being spent ! Ever notice?
Why doesn't What we got ever recognize What we got, and shake hands?
off they go into the sunset and try to befriend yet more, now that they have conspired.
One day to catch a future glimpse of my recall yet to form from the actions I have not yet taken.
humoring myself.
"Aesthetic Beauty" Gift once given.
That is ALL for the moment.
Monday, June 8, 2015
Thanks for the Ideas.......
The chorus of the song went.........
Every move is like a devils future
Every move is like a devils future
Every move is like a devils future
Plain as day I heard it.
There were dancing girls on film with blurred Crotch shots.
I think it was 16 mm movie film in black and white... the equipment was old... and upstairs and I was supposed to use it.. to film a street scene.... maybe it was the First Key West Fantasy Fest.. 1977 I think it was...
The equipment was pretty screwed up and dusty etc.... I went into the past and filmed it... returning to the future and played it back... no one could figure out how I had done it.
They figured a fraud.
Let your imagination run wild
Let your imagination run wild
The figures in the Mario Sanchez wood carving depiction were not just imaginary figures you know?
They were real people that actually existed.
Going back into the record to a street fair... a festival, returning.........
And the experts could not figure out how it was done you see?
A New Film.
It all seems different somehow... viewing the new at the old play awards.
Who has Images of the very first Fantasy Fest Event .......... in Key West... I don't see them on
You Tube.
The chorus:
Every move is like a devils future
Every move is like a devils future..............
Plain as day.
The first sign of getting any.
Every move is like a devils future
Every move is like a devils future
Every move is like a devils future
Plain as day I heard it.
There were dancing girls on film with blurred Crotch shots.
I think it was 16 mm movie film in black and white... the equipment was old... and upstairs and I was supposed to use it.. to film a street scene.... maybe it was the First Key West Fantasy Fest.. 1977 I think it was...
The equipment was pretty screwed up and dusty etc.... I went into the past and filmed it... returning to the future and played it back... no one could figure out how I had done it.
They figured a fraud.
Let your imagination run wild
Let your imagination run wild
The figures in the Mario Sanchez wood carving depiction were not just imaginary figures you know?
They were real people that actually existed.
Going back into the record to a street fair... a festival, returning.........
And the experts could not figure out how it was done you see?
A New Film.
It all seems different somehow... viewing the new at the old play awards.
Who has Images of the very first Fantasy Fest Event .......... in Key West... I don't see them on
You Tube.
The chorus:
Every move is like a devils future
Every move is like a devils future..............
Plain as day.
The first sign of getting any.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Crab Meat
I have been thinking for some time now how it may be.. that for the most part and most intents and purposes 'Money is God'
Kind of like delicious Crab Meat.
I mean I saw a poor couple waiting for a bus..... and they looked so uncomfortable.
Have you ever noticed Moneys effect as a Mood Elevator? or fear eliminator?
Or is that my imagination? Excuse me if so.
Granted it is only a short lived fix...
Is there any value in proving Money is God?
Money if it is gender specific... I would say..."He is pretty much afraid of being spent"
Seems our immediate thrill is contingent on some being spent... However you cut the cake.
Money really as God? NO... that would be " God is laying flat on my back looking up at the stars" to quote Ronny Elliot.... cold and hungry in my case less my being ' FORTUNATE'
When you have no money it does not seem to breed happiness... as we know it, anyway.....
and if you are inclined to disagree with me that the sentiment of Money is in Portraying God...
I simply ask you to live with none in this society... and send me your glowing report,
as you pick your delectable Crab Meat with a small silver fork.
If something makes you feel comfortable.... you want it, ask any prostitute.
Thus the struggle to attain God... always has been... as far as any history I know or have ever heard of.
If I am wrong... live with none... and hold his hand first and see what circumstances develop in Faith and just being....
A Survivalist........ Food, Water, Warmth, Shelter, Fire, Companionship , family, good health, did I miss anything?
Oh yes and some Money!
Kind of like delicious Crab Meat.
I mean I saw a poor couple waiting for a bus..... and they looked so uncomfortable.
Have you ever noticed Moneys effect as a Mood Elevator? or fear eliminator?
Or is that my imagination? Excuse me if so.
Granted it is only a short lived fix...
Is there any value in proving Money is God?
Money if it is gender specific... I would say..."He is pretty much afraid of being spent"
Seems our immediate thrill is contingent on some being spent... However you cut the cake.
Money really as God? NO... that would be " God is laying flat on my back looking up at the stars" to quote Ronny Elliot.... cold and hungry in my case less my being ' FORTUNATE'
When you have no money it does not seem to breed happiness... as we know it, anyway.....
and if you are inclined to disagree with me that the sentiment of Money is in Portraying God...
I simply ask you to live with none in this society... and send me your glowing report,
as you pick your delectable Crab Meat with a small silver fork.
If something makes you feel comfortable.... you want it, ask any prostitute.
Thus the struggle to attain God... always has been... as far as any history I know or have ever heard of.
If I am wrong... live with none... and hold his hand first and see what circumstances develop in Faith and just being....
A Survivalist........ Food, Water, Warmth, Shelter, Fire, Companionship , family, good health, did I miss anything?
Oh yes and some Money!
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Charlie Shepard....... The Dawn of wisdom
Where to begin with old Charlie?... he may have responded to my handy man ad in the paper.
I used to run the lawn mower around his rock strewn hilly yard pinging rocks and bending my blade and then sling more rocks with the weed eater... bleeding my leg shins ........
Driving around in a Hearse... Charlie was in the back on the gurney dead with me seated on the edge we were on the way to somewhere.. or so we the attendants thought...until
he reared to life... scaring the shit out of the three of us....... next I am driving down a steep hill with no brakes again.... seems a recurring dream........ a still Old but Not dead anymore Charlie is chattering away in my delighted ear, Odd
beautifully so, I did think of the word resurrection ..... in a fleeting sense or maybe he never was dead.
He was clear about my reading the book of Psalms 1-10 and then read 1-5 again for good measure.
Zooming
Back into the past:
As years passed we became chums... I guess you could say... he was pretty old and had one eye, well two one was glass...
He lived in a little wooden clapboard house over on Sandy Circle on Big Pine Key Florida..down and up from the Post Office...
His big claim to fame and seeming biggest joy was telling me about his around the World Cruise on a Steamship in 1912.. he had all the luggage stamps up in a picture frame up on the wall in his living room... it was the event of a lifetime I suppose......
Charlie hailed from Kansas City Mo. He mentioned working in a Cattle Stock Yard as a Clerk.
He drove a silver 66 Ford Mustang with a six banger and automatic... he had purchased it brand new.. he even had a little placard on the dash that read Charles Shepard........... I replaced the exhaust manifold in it for him one time.
I used to drive him up to the Bascomb Eye Clinic in Miami maybe twice a year.... in his Car... he always used to want to stop behind the Catholic Church up in Key Largo.. to take a Piss in the parking lot, and so it was a regular stop .... and he relieved himself by the right front fender.
Then on into Miami and the Eye Clinic.. where they studied his good eye, or maybe they were looking at his glass one, both perhaps.
and then we would have a fantastic lunch somewhere and roll on back towards Home... flying low across the ever scenic Bridges......... the little six cylinder purring .........
He was a piece of work...
He never spoke of family.. something about a Nephew... Sweeney... and a couple of homosexual friends he had once upon a time for room mates... I never asked... he never said I suppose...
Pat Ryan and I put a brand new shingle roof up on his house once.. it came out real nice, he was happy and paid us well...
As I mentioned I took care of his yard ... when I was done marring my legs ,we took to drinking Scotch and Waters in real glass over ice cubes the big green bottle of McGregor Clan sat on the table for two just between us where either of us could reach and pour .. as needed , and he would carry on about his around the world adventure steam ship cruise as a lad....
It was the thrill , the highlight of his life... that and me coming over and cutting his grass and drinking Scotch and Water with him...
Charlie wound up being a good egg in my book.... he never had his head up his ass.
Hey Charlie, I hung on every word.
I used to run the lawn mower around his rock strewn hilly yard pinging rocks and bending my blade and then sling more rocks with the weed eater... bleeding my leg shins ........
Driving around in a Hearse... Charlie was in the back on the gurney dead with me seated on the edge we were on the way to somewhere.. or so we the attendants thought...until
he reared to life... scaring the shit out of the three of us....... next I am driving down a steep hill with no brakes again.... seems a recurring dream........ a still Old but Not dead anymore Charlie is chattering away in my delighted ear, Odd
beautifully so, I did think of the word resurrection ..... in a fleeting sense or maybe he never was dead.
He was clear about my reading the book of Psalms 1-10 and then read 1-5 again for good measure.
Zooming
Back into the past:
As years passed we became chums... I guess you could say... he was pretty old and had one eye, well two one was glass...
He lived in a little wooden clapboard house over on Sandy Circle on Big Pine Key Florida..down and up from the Post Office...
His big claim to fame and seeming biggest joy was telling me about his around the World Cruise on a Steamship in 1912.. he had all the luggage stamps up in a picture frame up on the wall in his living room... it was the event of a lifetime I suppose......
Charlie hailed from Kansas City Mo. He mentioned working in a Cattle Stock Yard as a Clerk.
He drove a silver 66 Ford Mustang with a six banger and automatic... he had purchased it brand new.. he even had a little placard on the dash that read Charles Shepard........... I replaced the exhaust manifold in it for him one time.
I used to drive him up to the Bascomb Eye Clinic in Miami maybe twice a year.... in his Car... he always used to want to stop behind the Catholic Church up in Key Largo.. to take a Piss in the parking lot, and so it was a regular stop .... and he relieved himself by the right front fender.
Then on into Miami and the Eye Clinic.. where they studied his good eye, or maybe they were looking at his glass one, both perhaps.
and then we would have a fantastic lunch somewhere and roll on back towards Home... flying low across the ever scenic Bridges......... the little six cylinder purring .........
He was a piece of work...
He never spoke of family.. something about a Nephew... Sweeney... and a couple of homosexual friends he had once upon a time for room mates... I never asked... he never said I suppose...
Pat Ryan and I put a brand new shingle roof up on his house once.. it came out real nice, he was happy and paid us well...
As I mentioned I took care of his yard ... when I was done marring my legs ,we took to drinking Scotch and Waters in real glass over ice cubes the big green bottle of McGregor Clan sat on the table for two just between us where either of us could reach and pour .. as needed , and he would carry on about his around the world adventure steam ship cruise as a lad....
It was the thrill , the highlight of his life... that and me coming over and cutting his grass and drinking Scotch and Water with him...
Charlie wound up being a good egg in my book.... he never had his head up his ass.
Hey Charlie, I hung on every word.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Old House
Slowly turning dangerous:
Postponing the inevitable:
Slowly turning like rotisserie chicken:
A Loyal old trusted friend sadly dead:
Viewing the perspective:
A school of sharks:
Still we refuse:
Still we choose:
Chummy illusion:
Pass a hand through concrete wall:
Collecting remnants of gold and silver:
On bent knee, writing in Cuneiform:
A lot of beggars rest:
On the count of three snap out of it:
Old House.
Postponing the inevitable:
Slowly turning like rotisserie chicken:
A Loyal old trusted friend sadly dead:
Viewing the perspective:
A school of sharks:
Still we refuse:
Still we choose:
Chummy illusion:
Pass a hand through concrete wall:
Collecting remnants of gold and silver:
On bent knee, writing in Cuneiform:
A lot of beggars rest:
On the count of three snap out of it:
Old House.
Monday, June 1, 2015
Thinking In Extremes.
Thinking in Extremes be it Far Left or Far Right all designed by man and his fully demonstrated ceaseless hatred towards one another.
Filling in between the borders:
As you tighten or narrow your point of View and wind up on a lubricated sliding scale at the whims of others...
Wrenched down along the rail at some point... and capped off with a Headstone at last, Bravo the last worthy achievement ...........
All that indignation for not...............
I knew an Old WW 2 Vet... once .... he relished the thought of at last going to rest in Arlington... National Cemetery
He used to carry on so... about being under a cool shade tree beneath the rolling green manicured lawn...
What a funny memory. Old Dewy.
It was as if he could not wait.
Filling in between the borders:
As you tighten or narrow your point of View and wind up on a lubricated sliding scale at the whims of others...
Wrenched down along the rail at some point... and capped off with a Headstone at last, Bravo the last worthy achievement ...........
All that indignation for not...............
I knew an Old WW 2 Vet... once .... he relished the thought of at last going to rest in Arlington... National Cemetery
He used to carry on so... about being under a cool shade tree beneath the rolling green manicured lawn...
What a funny memory. Old Dewy.
It was as if he could not wait.
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