Saturday, December 20, 2008
Beauties Take 2
Beauty & The Beasts
do you see what I see,
close your eyes a minute
be still a minute
silence your own voice a minute
like a child
before you learned all this and that
it was never heavy or dark
it was always light and light
hold my hand
let’s not turn back for a minute
The Animals
You guys just monopilate our time. (Cathy to the animals)
If a martian landed here
and looked around for a day
or less
she would rightly conclude
BooBoo and Angel are in charge
and the queens of this place
I woke up in the middle of the nite
it was like Animal Planet
but not an episode of Miracle Pets
Something from a real person:
Thou art a little spirit bearing up a corpse. Epictetus. Image stolen from here. (You knew that).
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
More from the Big Picture & the Kitchen
Want to share some of the latest with you. You know how much I love you.
Sometimes the writing comes before and sometimes after the picture. This time the picture came after.
Your expectations about sufferings are mistaken. Watch um coming like waves. Don't run from the downs to the ups. They're both on their way.
sober is a popular way to go about life
I don't need my veggies waxed.
Better pen in hand quote:
I’m happiest with a pen in my hand.
alright, you caught me, my fingers on a keyboard.
Dogs are so nosy
Seems like the purpose of my job is to chip away all my remaining self importance.
And the last one for my baby:
Forget everything I ever told you.
The love starts fresh again today.
Push the tiny red master reset button in the back
What you want to do sounds really good.
Being with you is the best part of my any and everything.
i mean it, let's go shopping
Like I got any good ideas
Image stolen from the Big Picture.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
dreams
There are places I remember
I’ve never been
water and mountain dreams
over and over at least one time
I'm remembering another for the first time again
vividly undescribed and impossibly wordless so far
is it new tonite, or again?
i’d believe either one
i forget remembering
mountains and water
There’s caves and hallways too
i think the caves may be real
where the hell is that mountain road we camped on
how did Angel get to the ocean so quickly
didn't i dream this before angel?
the river in Alaska, only in a dream and just like one
how many times have I been there
only once?
am I remembering only one dream
I could do it again if you want, right now.
I could draw some of it too.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Marriage
Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly...he in the upper bunk and she in the lower.
At 1:00 AM, the man leaned over and gently woke the woman saying, "Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket? I'm awfully cold."
"I have a better idea," she replied. "Just for tonight, let's pretend that we're married."
"Wow! That's a great idea!" he exclaimed.
"Good," she replied. "Get your own damn blanket."
After a moment of silence, he farted
My Tranquil, Tamed Life
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Christmas on the Mount ++
It takes more than black-eyed peas to make a dish southern.
Unless you work for Campbells,
every pot of soup you make is one of a kind.
Better garlic quote.
I’m leery of any sissy ass recipe that calls for one clove of minced garlic.
I caught Angel doing yoga this morning,
she was doing dog pose.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Numbers From Early December & More
I'm happiest with a pen in my hand.
on a memory or a floor
the love in those eyes
my goodness it’s always been there
sometimes even she forgets
sooner or later you’re gonna need to get in
you already know plenty about out
Dealing with the Apocalypse of Fools
At your station in life a common difficulty for fools arises from a strong attachment to ideals. Big attachment is big difficulty Grashopper. My Uncle Barb told me once that you spend the first 3rd of your life aspiring, the 2nd acquiring and the 3rd, figuring out what to do with them both. You're still in your 1st, and I'm in my 3rd. Nice separation don't you agree? Don't leave all your aspirations at the door, ever. One thing I've learned over and over and over again: life is not going to be anything near the way I wish it would be. Not a friggin bit of it. No one thinks like I do, no one. Case closed on that Dylan; suffering and apparently stupidity is baked in. The case was closed before you were born and came up with your own version of how things are supposed to be. Before you even made your first shit in a diaper! This is not a bad thing, or something to be mad at, in fact, this truality is your way out! I'm 53 and still working the anger problem. Go figure.
In many ways it's not your fault, you were born into a line of wonder-intelligents. Nothing to complain or brag about, just watch um and come to your own conclusions about your bloodline. It's just another one, just watch um and come to your own conclusions about your bloodline. Don't make me say it again! I consider myself an honorary member of your family, because of their love, not their intelligence, as you may have already guessed! I would stand with all of them through anything, anytime. Try me. The best of these things is part of you, one day you will agree with all your heart, I imagine you already do. In your case, you got the poet-gene which probably skips at least a generation or two, and sets you out on a journey that involves poverty of everything normal or moral in your case!
I believe you're ahead of your time and the game when you recognize that poets (brainiacs) can get lost in pessimism, negativity, etc. Being able to recognize your negativity is a positive. (Recognize) Negative = Positive. Tell yourself the stories you want to believe without stop, without hesitation. We are story tellers. You are a story, tell it well. Don't let your circumstances get in the way of your happiness, your love. Ever. Right this minute, pay attention to your next story, tell it better than ever! That's what I'm doing. Don't worry about the others, you handle your story. Like a god, enjoy this beautiful existence. There is nothing I dislike, is a good starting place. Don't let your ideals piss in your cheerios, what a waste.
One more thing. There's a lot of big energy invested in our way of life on this planet and in particular this society Dylan. It's bigger than you and me. It's mostly unconscious. But it's not intrinsically bad. Goodness comes from good thinking, not from circumstance. Them damn circumstances, check um at the door, we got bigger fish to fry.
you are loved, you are so loved, long before me, you were loved completely and delightfully, as your dad would say. your bobJuan.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Love Poets
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Early December Updates
This past Sunday, Bobby, Jordyn, Noah and I went up in the daytime. What a beautiful mountain. We were coaching the two newbies about being careful on the way down. I told them I was hoping they wouldn't have to learn the hard way. When we got back to the truck, Noah stuck up his bloody arm, proud as all hell, "I guess I had to learn the hard way". I told his Mom later it's pretty much the way I've learned everything important in my life. And now for some bobJuan one-liners: From Barbara Kingsolver's The Bean Trees: If I didn’t let my mind run too far ahead, I felt completely happy Here's one with two possibilities: Don’t get your happiness confused with your circumstances. [or] Don’t let your circumstances get in the way of your happiness.
You figure out what they are: I dreamed about um last nite, they were the kind you dream about.
In the kitchen, what 1 minute can do to a cookie, 5 seconds can do to a tortilla. I’ve seen milk go even quicker. And finally: The stuff was so good he was charging just to look at it.Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Some Updates
Compared to those who drink a little I drink a lot.
I’m not interested in no.
I’m weary of any sissy-ass recipe that calls for mincing garlic.
where can you buy a pen that can write better this? I need one.
Randy is logic free
News Flash: No one thinks about you more than you as much as you do.
my dog is getting old must I say more
to write this I’m gonna have to excuse myself I got no business being in the way of this kind of love
If I’m not here for you why am I here at all?
for me, it’s rong not to write
I never grow weary of gratefulness.
The News
So, I'm sitting here now, getting ready for a nap and poked into CNN.COM. Jesus, Sarah Palin is still the headliner. She's campaigning in Georgia.
I'm going back under, will someone let me know when the coast is clear?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Poisonwood Bible
This is a book folks have probably already described as one of those you'll compare all that you've read before and since. I will describe it as my introduction to literature, to writing. Perhaps I'm late to the party, what's new? The book was an Oprah book, so lots of us have already been all over this juan, and writefully so.
This story is told first person by 5 persons. I would say girls or women, but can't because it's not that simple, better than that and it wouldn't be fair. A mom and four daughters. Each and every one of them tell this story in turn. These ladies go to Africa with their baptist minister dad, Nathan Price. I want to tell you about these Prize girls and their mom. I'll let them tell you about brother Nathan Price and the other parts. This wheel has already been invented and perfected.
You already know about my adoration for Kingsolver from here to forever. I was thinking earlier today that stories must dream of being told by Kingsolver, like (may god forgive me) an egg wants to be an Egg McMuffin in a corny McDonalds kind of way. To be told by Kingsolver is to be told well. She goes in and doesn't come back out until there are no story prisoners left behind. Like a net dropped into the ocean and brought up and released on deck. The details are there jumping all over the place in plain sight now, as exciting as all get out. Everyone of them will be touched and moved to their rightful place. Every marvelous one of them. I had no idea there was that much just under the surface.
Barbara does 5 entire souls in about 543 paperback pages. Before I finished I knew I was going to go again, and I did. I'm like what am I gonna read now?
From Rachel, the oldest daughter: If anyone presumed I was too young for a conversation about adulters and not getting babies they had another think coming.
From Leah, one of the twins: It struck me what a wide world of difference there was between our sort of games -- "Mother May I?", "Hide and Seek" -- and his: "Find Food", "Recognize Poinsonwood", "Build a House". And here he was a boy no older than eight or nine. He had a younger sister who carried the family's baby everywhere she went and hacked weeds with her mother in the manioc field. I could see that the whole idea and business of childhood was nothing guaranteed. It seemed to me, in fact, like something more or less invented by white people and stuck onto the front end of grown-up life like a frill on a dress.
From Orlenna, mom: I was just one more of those women who clamp their mouths shut and wave the flag as their nation rolls off to conquer another in war. Guilty or innocent, they have everything to lose. They are what there is to lose. A wife is the earth itself, changing hands, bearing scars.
From Adah, the other twin, my favorite: And all of us with our closed eyes smelled the frangipani blossoms in the big rectangles of open wall, flowers so sweet they conjure up sin or heaven, depending on which way you are headed.
From Rachel, describing her twin sisters: They spent so much time staring at each other's faces before they were born they can go the rest of their lives passing up mirrors without a glance.
From Leah describing Mama Tataba, their house-mom. She had a blind eye. It looked like an egg whose yolk had been broken and stirred just once. As she stood there by our garden, I stared at her bad eye, while her good eye stared at my father.
From Adah: Silence has many advantages. When you do not speak other people presume you to be deaf or feeble-minded and promptly make a show of their own limitations. ... It is true I do not speak as well as I can think. But that is true of most people, as nearly as I can tell.
And one more from mom: I know how people are, with their habits of mind. Most will sail through from cradle to grave with a conscience clean as snow. It's easy to point at other men, conveniently dead, starting with the ones who first scooped up mud from riverbanks to catch the scent of a source. Why, Dr. Livingstone, I presume, wasn't he the rascal! He and all the profiteers who've since walked out on Africa as a husband quits a wife, leaving her with her naked body curled around the emptied-out mine of her womb. ...
This is a book I'll always have a copy of to lend, if I'm lucky to have copies of any. There is just so much in this book, so much to love about these women and Africa. The excerpts above are just that, excerpts. None of us can be rightfully described by an excerpt. No way. But a glimpse. The bar has been raised by Kingsolver.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Writing Assignment #4
I’ve been hanging around Mama Java’s on Indian School Road like I got no real job or anything more important to do. I’m thinking folks who sit and drink coffee in these places are either very lucky or too cool for school. I’m here after hiking Camelback Mountain in the mornings. It’s a dare I make to myself: get out there and meet someone else who is out here. You know where there is. Seems like everyone does but me most times. I’d like to meet a poet and do what poets do in their holy places. I have this idea that because they’re interested they might be interesting. I don’t pretend to believe they’re happy. I imagine they’re not doing much more than noticing what’s going on, and then copying those noticings to paper using words that are nicer than called for, words that use up some of your vocabulary and time. I’m already not doing much. Just ask anybody about that. Now, for my next trick: talk to one of those too cool for school coffee-shop people.
Just about everyone I know wants to talk nick-nack-patty-wack all the time. Nick-nackin’s alright as far as it goes, but I’m thinking we should get to the part where we actually give the dog a bone. I’ve been smiling at people for no good reason for a few months now, like trolling for trout. It’s another dare of mine. It all started not long after I became too tired of being tired all the time, of waiting for things to get good enough for a smile, of waiting for someone to smile at me. Tired of thinking my life should be better without any more effort on my part, of not finding inspiration each day for some bobJuan poetry. Tired of the boneless nick-nack-patty-wackin in and around my so called life.
between me and kindness
unexamined somethingless
you first, really
I hide a smile from you
like I only have a few
silly boy, you can’t save joy
set aside your fear
hold everything else so near
there’s plenty more where this comes from
Everyone looks so damn good in the morning, before the day’s disappointments have time to take off their coats and stay a while. Yesterday was wrested away by a nite under the wooby. The entire beautiful mountain and all day is in front of them and they aint hidin it. It happens while most folks are still in bed, like desert flowers, and there’s nothing you or anybody else can do about it either. I’m already finished with the best part of the mountain by then, except the part when I see them. There are poems in every face coming up and down the mountain. Sometimes I just slow down, way down, on the way down. The sweetness is in the coming down, not in the being down. The sweetness is in the faces on the way up on my way down. I’m not in a hurry; it’s taken me my entire life to get here.
So, last Wednesday morning I shot one of my new dare-powered smiles to my latest victims as they came into Mama Java’s. It’s the bell on the door that makes me do it now, look up and smile, whoever it is, going or coming. They caught it and returned two of their own like they were some kind of professionals or something. Jeeeze-Leweeze, this smiling thing really works. Note to self: keep smiling. The little girl looked at me like she knew why I was there, maybe more than that. She seemed old enough to realize what big people are up to, inside and out no doubt, but not a cup of cocoa older. Don’t ask me how I got all this sensed in a second, but I did. How can eyes send so much juicy info from one pair to another? Across rooms, years and lives, so much is in those eyes. What the hell are they made of anyway, embryonic-soul-cells? It’s early, don’t try and figure out everything about the energy and love going on in Phoenix this morning, all over town from the mountain on down. I will be watching for you.
I winked at her and mouthed good morning. My smile had another second or two left in it. She right-away excused herself from her mom and came to my table. She reached out her hand and said good morning, I’m Blue. I was smitten by her name and address to the stranger. Especially an old scary fart like myself with hair hidden under a bandana and sweat still dark and drying under my arms from the hike. I might be lucky, but I’m not too cool for school. Direct, fearless, and smiling good-mornings is another way to give the dog a bone. You are a blessing addressing me this kind way in the morning love light. How may I bless you too Blue?
She sat down and asked about the William Carlos Williams book I had on the table next to my kiddy-coffee (cream and sugar and all things morning nice). Am I the last guy on the planet to read William Williams? I would have gone by Bill. My name is Robert Ralph Royal and I go by Bob or bobJuan. Those who’ve known me forever call me Bobby. I like to hear it since I know they’ve known me from about the time of forever when our love started. Back when smiles and dares were commonplace and all over the place. I told Blue I was having a hard time with Williams. He’s a bit too vague and poetic in the school-and-classic-kind-of-way for me. I don’t like to work hard at poetry or any reading, or anything else besides really. Just ask anybody about that last part. She said he was a bit long at times, but worth the effort. Long is not the word I would use, effort maybe. We both agreed that some of his poems are too easy; even we’ve done better, lots better, lots of times. She said lots of famous poets she knows are that way. I’m thinking sure; you know lots of famous poets. It’s almost too cute and sweet, this innocence without hesitance. I keep trying I said, not sure if I can be a poet or not, it’s one of my problems. One of my problems is not being amazed by this little Blue girl.
I asked her if she does any writing. She said some, but mostly she’s a writer’s assistant. I picture her helping her mom or dad or teacher in small thoughtful ways while they write. Before I could ask she said she helps writers who have trouble finding their way. I’m like girl, you’re like what, 9 years old, what the hell? Well, that’s what I was thinking anyway.
Blue told me as soon as she saw me she knew I was looking for my way. Why else would I be here this morning, pretending Williams, smiling at everybody like I’ve already found my way. She admitted that some found her directness and sense intimidating, but it only worked with writers, and real writers always want to talk about their writing, even with a young girl who needs a ride everywhere she can’t get to on her bike in time.
I told her I was struggling big-time-all-mighty with a writing assignment. I need to write some fiction. I’m not writing anything; I’m falling behind and stuck, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up, I don’t even blog anymore. I wanted her to know the truth about my fiction, to see what condition my confiction was in. She assured me that this was a commonon phenomenon for poets, and it’s nothing we couldn’t get through together. I’m like, holy-cow-batgirl what are you talking about, the phenomenon and me together here in the holy poet place for chrissakes? There’s no such thing as fiction. You are telling the truth in your stories. Stories are all true and poets write the best ones because they are the rulers of the word. Don’t you see what you want? What you really want is to tell your truth anyway and anywhere you can. You take your stories to bed with you like a koan. They’ll get you up in the middle of the night like a crying wet hungry baby. You’re looking for your notebook without the light, hoping your wife won’t think you’re crazy tonite. Are you writing about that little girl in the coffee shop again? To me, Blue said, my most favorite fiction is the truth dressed up for church or the bowling alley. And the truth doesn’t miss a thing about the fiction going on in the potluck after service. Look around, my god; the stories are rolling strikes and gutter balls all around you.
By this time Blue’s mom came over with a mug of hot cocoa for Blue and a frothy brew with whipped cream on top for herself. She apologized for Blue’s blabbering intrusion. I assured mom that it was alwrite; I was enjoying Blue’s writing insightings. Mom almost blushed and agreed that Blue was special and insightful. It seems these two are not going to rush through this morning or want to be anywhere else but here. Mom asked, so, you’re a writer? I’m thinking like yeah, sure lady, if you only knew. Before I could answer she said Blue’s always talking to writers because she thinks they’re they rulers of the word.
Blue asked if I wanted to finish my story soon, like later today after school. She said we could meet at the park by her house on 42nd street around 3:30. I said absolutely, I could hardly wait, it’s due tonite. She told me to bring my poem about hiding smiles.
On my way home I went by Bashas to get a few things. I called my boss and told him I wouldn’t be in again. I got home in time to see Cathy off to work. Then I went outside on the patio to feel my soul again, at my own pace with the sun in my face. I opened my notebook and crossed off meet a poet, then flipped over to my page of dares while I took another one of my life’s breaths. I pulled the big steak bone from the grocery bag and gave it to my dog Angel.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
You might like the Zoological Society of London.
Friday, November 21, 2008
A Slice of Heaven
Barbara takes her time and enjoys each scene with delicacy and sensibility. She's more than just paying attention, she's right careful with the moment, allowing all the love in it to get on the page at its own pace. There's no reason to move on until ALL of the story that's right here, right now has its chance to speak. Here's a line from the book: Cash is sitting in the the boss's office: But Cash had been thinking how sad it was there was not even a plant on the windowsill in here. Not one green thing that can sit in the sun and be quiet. I was thinking about this on the way down the mountain this morning. It was so beautiful. I'm like, I'm not going to rush through this, it's taken me my entire life to get here!
Here we have another love story. This time a little girl, Turtle Stillwater, is loved by her adopted white mom and the entire Cherokee Nation. There's a lot of love to go around for this little darling. It takes them all a while to figure out they surely want the same thing, but they did and they do.
A delightfully thoughtful look into Cherokee culture. Makes me wish I had a tribe to go home to sometimes. Family is messy alright, but damn, so are ribs and corn on the cob and a hog fry!
Barbara Kingsolver, my goodness girl. Don't stop!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Mountain Updates & More
Steady now, here’s another chance right in front of you.
How true do you think fiction has to be anyhow?
She’s gonna be back here in a minute, are you ready to love?
Your life is a story. Be nice to it. Tell it well.
Be careful with this page, this paper and this pen.
God is here and is looking for you. Don’t be afraid to love everything. Will you love all that is created?
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Brighter than Usual this AM.
I'm not gonna touch it much, just a little. I'm very proud of our country this morning. We needed to get out and vote like never before, and boy we did. There's lots of kids in this entire world (including my 2 grand-daughters) who are waking up to some hope-O-rama-bama this morning, and I'm delighted for each and every one of them all over this world. Now, on to the business at hand.
Today is the 5th: donate your $5.00 to Singleton Moms today.
Don't forget the Rummage Sale a week from this Saturday on the 15th. You call me if you need some help getting stuff together. Don't ever be afraid to call or write!
And, now some quotes:
Kindness is more important than wisdom, and the recognition of this is the beginning of wisdom. --Theodore Isaac Rubin
There are two ways to get enough: one is to continue to accumulate more and more. The other is to desire less. --G.K. Chesterton
I never tire of gratitude. --bobJuan
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Election Day Pride
Monday, November 3, 2008
It's almost over
Saturday, November 1, 2008
A peom
I kind of feel like this one needs to get out there before next week:
don’t let your interests get too far away from you,
keep um close by where you can take good care of each other
30 feet and/or 15 minutes from here max
or this coming tuesday, that’s it.
Picture stolen from here: http://georgiainfo.galileo.usg.edu/banjo_lesson.jpg
Friday, October 31, 2008
Celebration (Instant Karma)
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Bones of the Master (Book Review)
While living
be a dead man,
be thoroughly dead –
and behave as you like,
and all’s well.
George and I share some strikingly similar struggles with the enlightenment gig, and a love for a master like Tsung Tsai, we surely do. Here’s one of George’s poems from the book:
Light the pipe.
Uncork the wine.
Imagine a beauty.
Call her forth
to dance upon my bed.
My own follows. Nice story, I’m a sucker for a poet!
Travel with a monk, a monk’s journey
Long time, far away. Return certainly unknown and uncertain Georgie.
My daughter and her mother stay to wait
and keep the house and us together, and be sensible.
One of them knows plenty about me.
It’s not just any monk.
Where is my friend?
Is there one?
Who would it be?
I don’t even know any poets around here.
We’re all so busy with all this nothing that matters
all day and all night.
All of us.
Good days and not so.
Long, hot, stinking, still, airless, airful, and shitty too.
Tender veggies cooked by love
in love’s kitchen
with a side of love
in the sight of love
or an orange will do,
or nothing but you
and me again tonite.
I hold you up
you lift me up
and up we go, and up we went, so high.
To go as friends,
to return as…
words are gonna run from this one
they can’t be expected to help out here
We returned as…
we returned without words
for neither mouths, the alphabet or this pen
can get this right
oh my friend, next time, we jump from helicopter for sure
Why not? My friend.
Peak Experience
Friday, October 24, 2008
All the way
At the time
Thursday, October 23, 2008
my Belle
I knew you
and all that’s been said and written is true
so what do I say tonite?
another day has come and gone
another year too
and your light shines 8 times brighter still.
I wonder
can others tell
how wonderful you are
tonight here in my heart
and how right my life is because of you?
I wonder
can they see how easy it is to love
on account of you?
how mighty almighty rich that is?
getting folks outta bed each day?
I wonder
do my eyes give you away?
My smile?
I wonder
can you see how fiercely loved you are?
do you see us loving you up?
I wonder
How many of us are tucked in tight
with you tonite?
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Wednesday is Hump Day
For Singleton Moms Too
It is my blog and I can blog about Andy all I want. Today though we're talking about Nascar Angels, Andy's car and Singleton Moms. You can show your support by showing up for the "reveal" on October 30th. Here's Andy's eMail to her friends/family.
Dear Friends and Family,
Some of you may not of heard but, I got selected for a National Television Show called NASCAR Angels. nascarangels.com
They travel the Nation and find people who do good for others to fix up their cars.
We are very excited because this is going to be great exposure for Singleton Moms, on top of the fact that I am getting my car fixed from top to bottom! singletonmoms.org
They are filming the reveal show on October 30th at 3p.m. This is where everyone will be standing out on the street clapping when they return my car. There will be news stations there along with some of the moms we are helping. Please if you can make it the address is 6910 E. Southern in Mesa 85209.
I know that this is a really far drive for some of you. But it would mean a lot to have your Singleton Mom support out there! Plus you will get to be on TV.!!
Love, Andy
Sunday, October 19, 2008
For Andy
for her father
to smile at her story
it’s not everything not even the only thing
but boy wouldn’t it be nice
to have all that always
not implied no matter what
none of us should have to wait for this
look around you man
you got a plan beyond kindness?
let her story save you both
grab on to this love thread while you still can
with both hands
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Everybody's Doin It!
And what else?
While you’re thinking about that
you’re missing all this
this will end
that never started
this is where you live
there’s no that for you this time
Get happy about that!
Today’s assignment: This
The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe Me."
Look what happens
with a love like that,
It lights the Whole Sky. --Hafiz
If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it. --Margaret Fuller
Monday, October 13, 2008
Outside the box
48 Degrees
I think Bobby's gonna bring the doughnuts on Wednesday.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
There's Only One
Saturday, October 11, 2008
One More Please
one more drink
surely shirley
don’t you think
we’ll get surley
one more time
just cover the ice
I’m gett’n fine
you’re look’n nice
one more sip
that’s all we’ll take
lift your slip
i’m on the make
one more snort
you heard what i said
pour that port
we’re headin for bed
one more round
just give me a kiss
can’t wait for the sound
of love’s sweet bliss
one more shot
make it a double
hell why not
we’re already in trouble
image stolen from here: http://hometown.aol.com/cktail/images/martini.jpg
Friday, October 10, 2008
Hike With No Name
I have lived on the lip of insanity, wanting to know reasons, knocking on a door. It opens. I’ve been knocking from the inside!
I am so small I can barely be seen. How can this great love be inside me? Look at your eyes. they are small, but they see enormous things.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
I am not afraid.
One year in Alaska. It might as well have been 100, one for each of the guys locked in tight on that naked northern prison coast. Things cook in tight situations, there’s heat, love and freedom in this jail. I was ripe for all three wherever I could get them, wide open, not afraid of anything.
We sneak the fun we can with the goodies we have. The northern lights, caribou, ocean birds and ocean waves, tundra, 24 hour days and 24 hour nights are reasons to sneak and live. Let your mind go where it can’t wait to go, my god, where it must go, somewhere fearlessly new. Knowing what I know about sneaking now I would have sneaked way more. I’m not afraid of sneaking out with friends and lovers.
I’m 53. I work for the government, I’m married to the most beautiful woman in the world, my wife is a kindergarten school teacher, my 3 kids are the single most inspiration of my days, I’m in Arizona, watching for ways to fill my life with goodness, and I’m not afraid of anything. The things I love can never be taken from me, and I’m just getting started with my life.