The sound grew near. Booms, loud Bangs and twisted metal falling from the grey sky.
Painless, they sat inside the broken cafe.
"Your bow has fallen from your hair," he said. Her porcelain hand picked up the red bow and took a swig of her cigarette.
"Coffee?"
"Why not? A last cup before..."and she trailed off the tail of the sentence.
Cream?
"Yes, my sweet" sounding charming, as if it were a ball and not war.
"Well, I guess we're all outta luck."
"I believe you're right."
"Are you going hand-in-hand with the Lord now?"
Sipping on her coffee,"Depends where I am going."
"It's horrible, this is it," "There's no right, it's a wicked life," he sighed through his heavy soul.
"It is a crime. But, isn't it a milestone?"
Her beauty was deafening and all consuming.
"You're going to be the brightest star, you know."
"And you'll be right beside me," she said.
"You have no approximation."
"I don't want leave."
"Yes, it's so hard to leave.
He grasped her little pale hand. A single tear bade her goodbye.
She smiled farewell.

Where is my mind?

Way out in the white pearly rocks with a little green monster. And, I ask him; where is my mind?
His furry green paws pet my head. I dive into the icy blue. Wading through the ocean's winter misery. Until, I give up. Waiting...waiting to be released.

Chaucer's dirty pilgrim, described himself to the man
Which one? I asked with emphasis on the ?
You know the real dirty fucker.
Well what are you doing here?
Got lost on the pilgrimage. MapQuest said it would take 44 days by foot and little foot traffic. Must have taken a wrong turn.
-You know, you can get anywhere by putting one feet forward at a time. I never stumble. I put my right foot in, I put my left foot out...It's proven to work. I've been following the teachings of the Hokey Pokey and I must say, it's fail proof.
Ahuh, the pilgrim said, and what do you do?
I pick up crumbs, it's what I do.
How do you like it?
Hmm..well, at least it helps me keep things fuzzy. Clarity can be so much a distortionist of happiness.

Slitting and dozing
zZz I am riding the razor's edge.
Rs, Rs, Rs-blue sphinx on the window pane.
Cold, cold, cold. She said nothing wrong and I got bored.
Sex, sex, sex. Poor girl's appetite
Can't be helped. And why try...
Starring, starring, starring
Pretending to care
As a star dies and millions shine, the earth spins and large things collide
Bang, bang, bang,
Build a paper airplane quick, said I.
up, from the star, a univerese
Hey Whiman!! Gone or no ttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Christmas Blog

Some time yesterday, thousands of years ago a baby was born. We call this baby; Baby Jesus. And, like another Babe in pinstripes that came after him, he was plump and cute as a button. This baby, like most babies, gave its parents; humanity, society, etc., pleasure and grievances. But, we loved the baby regardless of its harm. After all, it's a baby. There's just as much fault in the baby's actions than our own. After a little this and much of that, a grand story was told that was passed down through hymns, books and symbolic processions. To some it remains a story. A nice story worth telling and keeping close to mind. Others are apathetic, there's indifferent as well as fervent believers stripped of allegorical interpretations. '

x x x

A Précis of Occupatio

*(Yeah that's right, it's occupatio, not a typo.)

1. Why am I about to come in your Isis? Several minutes from now I will ejaculate in your retina and surrounding areas. It may sting. But, there are no, I repeat, no long term effects. It must be done. For if eyes are the passageway toward the soul, I want my sperm children to be as close to your soul as possible. It's a connection thing.

2. It's late OK! That's why I just came now. Conan is about to come on and I want to watch the monologue.

3. I'll tell you why I ate all the cookies. I can't help it. I am addicted. It's who I am. I don't want to be this way. But, it's who I am. It's genetics, you know. I bare no control over my urges or actions. It's like one second I'm thinking about eating a cookie and the next I have three cookies in my hand. (Argument is replicable to excuse: who drank all the booze? where's all the toilet paper? who took all the medicine? etc.)

4. Why am I sleeping with your girlfriend? First, would you rather some stranger sleep with your girlfriend. That is insensitive and irresponsible. It's a jungle out there. A jungle of syphilis and herpes, mon ami. They, presumably men of forward thinking, say the fairer sex bores of one man's jing-aling quickly. Having learned this great fact, my nurturing nature remembered my friend is likely to contribute to the statistics. So, I did everything I had to do as hugely and quickly as possible.

Mais où sont les neiges d'antan?

Mais où sont les neiges d'antan?

Far away and removed, yesteryear's snow is a forgotten brook.

Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for your own joy
Submissive to everything, open, listening
Try never get drunk outside your own house
Be in love with your life
Something that you feel will find its own form
Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
Blow as deep as you want to blow
Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
The unspeakable visions of the individual
No time for poetry but exactly what is
Visionary tics shivering in the chest
In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
Like Proust be an old teahead of time
Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
Accept loss forever
Believe in the holy contour of life
Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
You're a Genius all the time
Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

I Dreamed I Met William Burroughs - Franz Wright

I met William Burroughs in a dream.
It was some sort of bohemian farmhouse
and he was enthroned, small and skeletal,
in a truly gigantic armchair.

When I asked him how he was, he replied
Well, you know what they say-for the best results,
alwyas mock and frighten losbetr before broiling.
Franz-I like that name, Franz. Childe Franz

to the dark tower someting ot other...Hey,
got a smoke? And quit worrying so much:
they can't help themselves, they're like abused dogs
and they're going to react to affection and kindness

with unctrollable savagery. Just tell them,
You're out of my mind, pal. You're out
of my mind. Either that or, I'm out of yours.
That'll keep them brain-chained to their trees.

I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love by keats

I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love by keats

I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love!  

Merciful love that tantalises not One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,  

 Unmask'd, and being seen—without a blot! 

O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!  

 That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,  

 That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,— Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,  

 Withhold no atom's atom or I die, Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,   

Forget, in the mist of idle misery, Life's purposes,—the palate of my mind 

Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!

"Pale white in private moonlight,

Like round-eyed sores,

Flap your scabby kneecaps apart,

My ugly whores!"

I puked, my little whore, when I saw the green, and read.

Crude all around and stupidly direct.

You tried. Tried so.

That was your first mistake.

And I get bored

SO fast

Love on a Reel

A dammed man of the worst kind-

In the wrong time

(It was meant to be

Maybe, a long time ago in some other place.)

He knew

That he must for sanctity

Casting his reel of love into the dark sea

Calm against the waves in his little vessel

Roughing it-wet and hungry

Nothing he wanted ever was caught

And there, here look at the map, he said to himself

I am suppose...

With my reel, my reel of love

He waited and weathered storms and squalls

Casting it high and low, deep, shallow and all

...He sighed and for the thousandth time

Snapped his wrist and let go

his reel of love.

Faith you're driving me away everyday.

UF Winter of '09:Fin de siècle

The fin de siècle in college has left a whole new set of bewilderments. And for that I am grateful. A whole new set of questions begotten through the auspice of the intelligentsia and the not-so vanguardist. All equally important in development and growth. And, that is where the fin de siècle has left me, fortunately. A new sight made possible with experiences from the whole spectrum. Onward and upward.

As Norman Mailer might had said:

Excelsior!

Milosz Realism

Rejoice! Give thanks! I raised my voice

To Join them in their choral singing, Amid their ruffles, collets, and silk skirts,

One of them already, who vanished long ago.

And our song soared up like smoke from a censer.

Effrontery to My Hesperides

No more sweaters nor looking out into the high, dark night. Sitting stone still overwhelmed by the countless possibilities.

Once, mad-splendor existed. And, dead tutors whispered truths I painted on a wall.

After certainty and solitude of thought...uncertainty and life seems unlivable. Successfully anyways. The paint is still there. I think. Covered by white layers of clean, godly paint. Moma's paint. A good sleepers paint.

Walking toward my red door, I grabbed the cold, steel knob. The truth rung in my temples and out my mouth. True maybe truer than the scripture on the wall.

Streaming No. 24 in F Sharp

She, sinewy, willful and playful. An exotic, striking pet (my pet). The best pet around, danced and grooved. For she couldn't say nothing at all. Women never can say nothing. They know too much. Like a wave through a meadow in a thunder storm. It makes little sense to me. But, it is powerful and unrelenting. My nostrils flair and I must take deep breaths. Slowly; one, two, three. It brings feelings and in the end; is that not what we have? Or, better yet the common calling we gallop to?

Once, maybe a thousand years ago, in the cold shower of realization, I said, shouted even in my head: feel, feel, feel! A thousand years later, here, unobtrusive and calm I am a flickering lightbulb. Coming and going, giving light but not enough to shine on the world. Yet, the muse is not without electricity but a constant switch that comes with a swift air of self destruction. sprinting up the steps and almost reaching the top, I, for it is I, stop. And, I step down three steps at a time. Stepping over the same old ground. Repeat the cycle.

Up and down those steps, there are things. Shiny and dark things. Cold and warm things. Likable and mean things. The understandable and confusing things. And a great Mystery up on top. Without a scent or a sound but so alluring. A thousand years ago the Mystery annoyed all the voices in my head. Keats, old boy, you were right; negative capability is my dear friend. Poet or not, human or humane; the Mystery is to be. Forever open handed to it but knowing it's an uncatchable butterfly.

Sloop Jony jony sloop awkwardly. Feel broken and go home.

I feel so broken. I want to go home.

What's that noise? It's close. It's swift. I am waiting for a knock. Or, a whistle. And I wait.

Everything, Everything Little Thing

She fits in my shoe. And I have a bike, red bike. Light and red bike that I ride to buy shoes.

I have a shoe, a shoe a red shoe. With black laces and a made in china sticker in the inside laces.

It's a red shoe in the peddle of the bike that goes round and round as the wheels spin, spin, spin.

Chase Saphire: The Real World

It's likely you've seen the above Chase Sapphire commercial. I believe it's intended as a credit card commercial.

Here's what would go down 95 percent of the time once the guy finds out his wife spent apparently all the

"reward" money on a dress.

Woman takes step back and flaunts dress.."What do you think?"

:coy smile from man. She mistakes it as approval. Then, his face turns red and he grabs his hair:

"You did what?! You took ALL that money and bought one fucking dress? I am tired! I've been working

every week day for two years. Don't you think I want a fucking vacation? Hey! genius where are you going

to wear that dress to? McDonald's and Chili's? Because that's all we have money for, you dumb whore.

Screw it I am moving in with my mistress. That's my vacation. Bitch."

Huge. Quickly.

He Went to Jared: The Real World

Babe, I have something very, very special to tell you?

What baby?!

I went somewhere this morning...

::Naughtily:: Hmm where would that be?

I went to Jared.

::She starts jumping in her PJs and bordering orgasm:: I need to call all my girl friends and rub it in their fat faces. Quick hand me my phone.

I went to Jared but I left almost 5 minutes later.

::orgasm gone, turned into woman scorned rage:: What?!

Have you seen their prices? I don;t care how shiny the thing is or how many African boys had to die. It's insanely expensive. I couldn't even read some of the numbers.

But, you're supposed to go to Jared. And then go sit somewhere as I show you off as an accessory to my expensive jewelry.

Sorry you see it that way but I would seriously have to stop eating and buying soap to afford anything in that store. Honestly, I don't know how they're in business.

If you want to see my tits or pussy again I would stop eating and buying soap. Or, I'm sure there are other guys whom want to go to Jared for me and be my accessory.

:::Thinking: I do enjoy her tits and pussy. And getting to this point is such a, urr a nuance to put it mildly, is it worth it?:::....

The Gators lost. Obviously they can't concentrate since I'm soon to graduate (finals permitting). The beating was painful. Probably the most pain I will ever feel. In fact, I'm sure it will be the most pain I will ever, forever and ever feel. I don;t show it. And no I;m not particularly macho. It's just really, really cold. Inside the apartment, I;m calling it a flat to be trendy, it's easily 60 something degrees. My blood was not built for these temperatures. It's nice but all my socks are dirty. So, my feet are really cold while the rest of my body is really warm. What an anomaly. I gotta thank my now-loser Gator snuggie, that's right! Without the snuggie, who knows where I'll be? Probably frozen in some cave in the Arctic circle. I ma be sad the day I can;t wear my snuggilicious due to global warming. Perhaps, there will be a shorter type of snuggie that goes from your hips to slightly above the knees. I also gotta thank MTVs Jersey Shore for numbing my brain for an hour. It was nothing short of amazing. Thinking about how I was tucked tightly with my snuggie and watching these beings on television arouses sick, sweet pleasures in my penis. Which brings me to my next point:

I saw a commercial that told me to think about giving others something special of nonvalue this Holiday season. I;m a step ahead of you, commercial. I've conjured several gift ideas that can be deemed priceless.

If you're a lady, ohh yeah ladies...this Xmas or whatever the fuck you celebrate you can have a blowjob. TO make it all the more special I can be ready under your tree Christmas morning. Cock-lock and loaded.

I will be offering good friends a kiss on the forehead followed by some obscure Bible passage whispered into the ear; priceless.

For those masochist out there I'll be farting in your faces so you can get pinkeye.

Family members will have the pleasure of my presence for almost a whole day. I am generous.

Also on the table is taking a nap with me and watch a bad movie. Some people are natural givers, like me, so for those individuals I'l provide my body to be cosseted for some time.

I can also give the gift of a smile and positive energy. And as a bonus I can converse and pay you a compliment. For the Techies, get this!, I'll be giving out a free, yes I said free invitation to what? Oh nothing much; just the best e-mail server provider in the freaking universe, Gmail. G-G-G-G Mail is not only down with the youths, as they say, but it has so much storage and counting and counting it makes the Energizer Bunny look like a fat bitch in high altitudes. And I don't forget the needy. I'll be donating 98 free G Mail invitations to the Toys for Tots Foundation. Surely, this gift will springboard 98 tots into becoming 98 Goldman Sachs executives.

In the end, I hope I get some socks. There's millions maybe billions of sock puppets out there being misused while they could be warming my frost bitten toes. I need a toe snuggie.

Monkey's Heart In Heaven

There's a lagoon of dead leaves. Underneath, a colony of talking peas, exchanging La la la I love you.

What was hard it's simpler and the stream harder to flow now.

I wish I were a Muppet

No sophistry can rebut this: Giant pitcher pot smoking sun of a gun licuanum or something of the other has just wont the Cy Young. Pot=amazing pitchers.

There seems to be a lacuna of post (at least compared to November). Good ideas in the pipeline. Much more writing anon. Bye Andy.

Oh Yeah

The Ponies are rolling strong. Don't call me the come-back kid. Just call me Ali. I take Tsun Tzus or whoever, advise very seriously, very seriously to my heart; keep friends close and keep your enemies closer. I beat only those closest to me.

Here are other early Christmas wishes:

Maybe one day Presidents will coda speeches with something other than God bless the United States of America. Jesus must be tired of blessing us all the time. Let's give him about a 324 year break. And shouldn't we be asking instead of demanding? God can you bless the United States?

Heroes. OK if someone is a police officer, a firefighter and dare I say, I do dare, a soldier does not qualify them as a hero. Does attending a university make you a genius, even Harvard? Most likely no. Actual geniuses comprise less than one percent of the population. We do things for our own benefit. So, unless a situation presents itself where someone fought during the flight or fight then taking the facts into account we can decide if he or she is a hero. Cops, firefighters, soldiers are presented with opportunities that are hero like But, a mon avis most of the time they are doing their jobs. A diligent teacher who's hailed as the best xy teacher for xz reason is not a hero. And neither is a cop or a soldier who fights. It's what they do. And with the wars in Asia we really need to scale back the word. Or, strip all police officers and soldiers of their benefits. And see how many heroes we'll have left.

Representative Men

Some god gave me the power to paint what I suffer.

Nature is to be reported.

Now that's a loaded sentence

He who hath learned to die hath unlearned to serve. - Montaigne

Chinese won't buy our pork?

Really China?.. Have you been to China Star or All You Can Eat Buffet in Hialeah?

I don't exactly what animal (or animas) is in it but mmm it's delicious.

Thanksgiving Part 1

While I am in the cusp of my first fantasy basketball win there's a lingering tingle of pain from the lese-majeste defaming my good name in the facebook group.

(side bar for a second: There's many that find sexiness in opulence and abundance of skin)

I, however, do not subscribe to those feelings.

This Thanksgiving is going to be so gravy. The first thing I am giving thanks to is for Going Rogue. So much happiness and hilarity is going to come from the insanity of Palin's "book." Second, I am to give thanks for Hubie Brown being old and coming to his demise soon. As far as I know he's the originator of the: you have your Lebron's you have your Wades, you have your Shaqs. And it's crossed over into other sports. We all love sports. And writing on why we love sports warrants its own post, blog, book, etc. But, Jesus! a good chunk of sport broadcasters and writers are just fucking ridiculous. And it's much more outrageous than the countless pundits and political talking heads. At least those guys make crazy shit it up from time to time and raise some eyebrows. These broadcasters (and I guess you gotta give ex players playing reporter a pass; they're decorations) gotta have more to say.

Locus classicus: After the baseball World Series one of these executioners of original thought was asked what made the difference for the Yankees: "Oh you got your Rodriguezes, your Pettites and Jeters...etc." No no no!! There's only one fucking Jeter and he's right there on the fucking team. Drop the possessive S; it adds nothing. So I am giving thanks once Brown dies and hopefully the trend will die as well. I am also giving thank to Chad Ochocinco. For legally changing his name and being addressed as Ochocinco.

I am giving thanks to MathWay. Without you I don't know what I'd do. Also to Google Reader the purveyor of wasting 60 percent of my day. And Lou Dobbs for being such a fantastic asshole and hopefully running with or against Palin and whatever evil spawn will arise from the Tea Party sect for 2012. Which brings me to giving thanks to the Tea Party loons (I guess Glen Beck is included). Hearing so much about tea parties and tea bagging has been a highlight and honestly has made me a little tea-bagging curious.

The parking lot was as before

I walked with a goal
home safe, fed and warm
Looking down so my eyes won't cry from the wind
I barely noticed
As I walk by a dead dear friend
Looking all the more innocent in death
Soulless, stiff, statuesque
It's little form curved with black little eyes
How did you get there? How had it been?

And I walked by.
Shooked with a goal
To get home
To be safe, fed and warm.

Finding A Permanent Voice

I've written regularly for a couple years. Here (the nonesense mostly), journals, walls, napkins, panties. Basically, any medium that is permeable to ink I've tried to write on. And yes, the journey is still in the womb stage. I've long past the Picasso prodigal blooming. I'm hoping for a Cézanne-esque late brilliance. Best of all would be a long, steady climb like Hemmingway's or John Updike. I was thinking; aside from all the noted hoopla, Hemmingway was great because his words always carried weight. Reading most young writers or dead writers in their early stages the words are airy, light sometimes optimistic. Later writings, one notes the heaviness of life on the writer. Feeling, observing; year after year, a soldier of the arts. It can be as painful as any posting. Feeling, learning, submergence into the unknown is grueling work.
I am not poor. I am not hungry. I dress accordingly. My mental-health resources are probably near the top. That is; I can buy books, go see art if I wished, buy albums, watch movies, plays etc. And, maybe, one day after the story and I have gained enough backbone; the story of my self-laceration will be written. So far, after bouts of healthy and unhealthy living, normalcy, craziness, both, pain, love, love lost, force majeur passions and so on, it's been a brick on the foundation for my writing. And with so many bricks to go so a structure could be formed; it's long, strenuous work. My hopes for those I know and care for; in whatever you do to feel as fulfilled as I do when I get one sentence perfect.
It call comes down to; do you want your song sung? Do you need to have your say? Definitely, yes.

36 Point Perpetua

From George Orwell

"At that time failure seemed to me to be the only virtue. Every suspicion of self-advancement, even to “succeed” in life to the extent of making a few hundreds a year, seemed to me spiritually ugly, a species of bullying."

Very true Georgie. Don't we at times feel this way? Past teenage angst; a thumping consciousness can still be heard back there in the darkness of the mind saying; What are you doing? Are you doing right by you? These are hard questions. Which, hopefully, sooner rather than later, we need to answer.

"I am not a Know-Nothing. That is certain. How could I be? How can any one who abhors the oppression of negroes, be in favor or degrading classes of white people? Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we began by declaring that 'all men are created equal.' We now practically read it "all men are created equal, except negroes." When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read 'all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics.' When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty -- to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy." -Lincoln

The relationship between Republicans and Jews fascinates me. The former is quick, even eager to defend Israel and cry for their protection (like they really need it). Huckabee just accused Obama of abandoning Israel; whatever that means. They are a small state much like a child left in a huge parking lot. Yet, most Jews are liberal or moderate Democrats. Their concerns and values from my experience (Curb Your Enthusiasm) is polar to those of Republicans. I don't get it. Republicans want it to many ways. If they were a sexuality they would be self-loathing bi-curious men who womanize.

Darkness in the night

People like Sarah Palin can be governor and have presidential hopes. It bothers me profoundly but I live on. People like Glen Beck can have a platform to spew hate and idiocy. I get depressed and begin planning what country I'd like to move to but I get on with it.
But I will not stand for a world in which Joey Greco is allowed to lie right to our face viz a viz our naive hearts. How could he?! After, watching hours of YouTube Cheaters clips. Let me ask you something Mr. Greco (if that is your real name) how many times did you fake it? Was it all faked???...Even our little vacation to downtown Houston. Down by where the wildflowers grow. Your jet-black neat hair undisturbed by the wind from the bucket of applied grease... gasp I can't on, I need water to wash down this betrayal stuck in my throat.
(5 minute break)
It doesn't feel great to be cheated by Cheaters. In fact, it's probably the ultimate cheat. But during my water break I meandered upon this thought; can we blame them? Being among cheaters led to cheating. Still I ask why. Is it because you're insecure Mr. Greco that you cannot gain ratings with conventional TV vigilante practices? Is this a cry for help? I did some Googleing and found a psychology degree accredited to Greco. Naturally, he would know all the symptoms of insecurity and respond literally by the book .



Coincidentally, I've been playing this old Radiohead standard "Just." Now, the lyrics have taken on new meaning. A personal, deep hurt. A new hurt. As the lyrics go:
You do it to yourself, you do
and that's what really hurts
You do it to yourself, just you
you and no-one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself

Yes Greco you stab yourself and that's what really hurts me. It was all you and really no one else.
I can only hope for a new fake-reality TV personality to torch the way out of the dark woods.A deus ex machina to the insolvency of my life.

A n B

I've been miserable at Fantasy sports and we Dems might loose in New Jersey and NYs 23rd. Connection? Of Course...post hoc, ergo propter hoc.

Additions to the Summation:

It's late; the time stand up comics rule TV. I'm glad I got to see the state of the industry. I can always fall back on stand up comedy. THis is a snippet view of my act:
"Hi yall, you seen the economy? That's some fucked up shit. But you know if a brotha from the hood were in office. I'm talking about the real hood where you gotta save your lunch money to pay the light bill n shit. Now you know we wouldn't have any of this bullshit because the brotha would have pawned and sold everythang in the White House as historical antiques.
And how about when Michele and Barack get into it? Cops show up all confused and shit to a domestic dispute to the oval office.
How all my ladies out there? ::female cheers, close up of woman cheering::[insert nauseating joke about the differences between the sexes] Weed reference,

Bloggerblock

October was a successful month for America, the economy, life and most importantly me.
The GDP rose a sexy 2.5 percent or is it 3.5 ah it increased and that's the important thing. I'm sure old men are happy when they get a boner after an unusually long hiatus. People, however, are bitching about the jobless rate; now, almost 10 percent. I wish it were more. To me that number just means more parents spending more quality time with their children. And, getting around to that laundry list you've been putting off, e.g., loose weight, learn a craft, travel the world, you know the usual. I too understand everything has its limits. Certainly, spending time with one's children has its exhaust date. "Daddy, you want to go throw the ball around?" "Fuck Jimmy! Can't you leave me alone for one minute." President Obama received the Nobel Peace Prize for not being George W. Bush. I have never caused wars, broken treaties or belittled people (OK maybe not the last one) so I expect to be a finalist in next year's nominations. Health care is thee buzz word around the nation. If one debate has proven to bring out the best and worst of people; it is this one. I was hoping the Senate and House would have given me a health care reform bill for my birthday but you know them. They can't decide on what the birthday card should say and who it should cover. Maybe next year.
October was unanimously voted as the sexiest month by the rest of the calender and some Gregorian

Notes

Media. Reporter lack boundaries and too much opportunism.

Access needs to be limited.

Self interest. Loosing friends in high places.

Journalist as a talking head. Semi celebrity.

Elevation of opinion over fact.

Facts are expensive. Opinion is cheap.

Enclave extremism.

Polarization.

You can reinforce your own facts with your own set of facts. Echo chamber.

Every one hates the media but they sound like a talking head.

Papers feeling evanescence

Ersatz journalist and intellectuals.

Quote of the Week

"Most hate is more common and more complicated, with as many varieties as there are varieties of love. Just as there is possessive love and needy love; family love and friendship; romantic love and unrequited love; passion and respect, affection and obsession, so hatred has its shadings. There is hate that fears, and hate that merely feels contempt; there is hate that expresses power, and hate that comes from powerlessness; there is revenge, and there is hate that comes from envy. There is hate that was love, and hate that is a curious expression of love. There is hate of the other, and hate of something that reminds us too much of ourselves. There is the oppressor's hate, and the victim's hate. There is hate that burns slowly, and hate that fades. And there is hate that explodes, and hate that never catches fire." Andrew Sullivan

Rain

Safe inside my box
Nature's dark song
Heightens the senses
Washing away the dirt, the brown leaf, the old
A cold, fresh, unexpected beginning
Impressive cosmic light of protons and neutrons
a miracle to me. Affirmation of morality.
Blue, purple, white hot rain light
Soaking the life cycles soil
I welcome thee.

For You

Don't believe what you might hear;
it's for them.
All along it's been for you;
You, your written word.
Greatest satisfaction on itself;
pedestal on the mantel of my precious
My true kin, truer friend
Never knowing you whole

Ricky Williams to advertise his massage parlor in Kendall strip mall on jersey. Upping Chad Ochocinco's name swap by changing his surname to the parlor's address; 3124 SW 40th St. Kendall, Fla. He says friends can call him 3124 but otherwise he'd prefer to be addressed as Mr. St. Kendall Fla. As the chief masseuse Mr. Street performs an array of body massages. Including the house special Dolphin's Blow Hole Happy Ending. Customers describe it as a force majeure.

The war tramples on between Sunday church and football. The church claims it was here first and football should back off. Football rebuttals by pointing to the million dollar 30 second ad spots during the Super Bowl. "Americans give us more money in one day you goodie googs can only pray for," officials said. On side contends god's on their side while the other hold they have the everlasting youthfulness, Wrangler glory of Bret Favre. I guess we will never know which is better.

Guantanamo Ponies R Fun face legal actions by the Federal government. With recent laws calling for the shutdown of Guantanamo Bay the Ponies must change their name so we can all forget that dirty spot on America's immaculate democracy, Feds said.
The Ponies, however, stand by their century-old name.

The Good: Stream No. 33

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angleheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machine-
ery of night." - Ginsberg
Opposite 2009:
Good children bloomed predictable adults
solid homogeneous color of community
Plain spoken, nice enough, pleasant even
terribly boring, mundane, redundant beings
No! No! Don't think that. It's not your place, she said. Hush. Do not disturb.
And we do not disturb. Pleases! pleasing! plead!
Wasted energy on chores-but oh don't we feel accomplished, crispy black check mark. Go to bank.
Trapped by golden fences
Enslaved by themselves. (If only I were a metaphoric box maker how wealthy will I be)
Fenced in religion and work for titles' sake
Outspoken sheep still toting the line
O' the line is clear, straight, narrow, one-way ticket to Happy Land
Poor minds
Dissension dissected as silliness. Anything But, is stupidity. Isn't it?
(How can it be? It says so right here? See. And my parents did it)
And the wave is ever nearer to the shore where we use to be wild,
drowning ocean of morals, pleasantness, conformity
Some dipping head first, anxious to meet the Real World
Where sheep can roam wide and free
Greed, Forbes, 401Ks and benefit await at the bottom of this sea (distorted version of manhood)
No more teetering, relishing on young success of mass accumulation
And we, I, maybe you? Camouflage

It seems like my bed has morphed into a state of water fluidity. Did the oxygen and small amounts of nitrogen in my bed turn into water? Yes, it most probably did. Carry on. Carry on!

Crusade

Join. Join NBA fantasy.
Fantasies are the shilly-shally.
See:

The policeman was thinking of Poisson's ratio while playing poker. He had five of a kind and was pretty sure he was the winner. Simple, pure, solid hand. But man was this ratio hard to get your head round, Forget it he said and went on playing. In the other side of the town by the giant rolodex store an old hand to the general with his old maid was wearing a Fez looking ike he has somewhere to be. The town's people thought he was and Old Persian or Old Norse, or Iranian m or Old Irish, or Old Ionic or Old Saxon. No one knew the old guard's identity. He walked by a women and gave her an inferring look. Are you horny or hung up? Well, she replied, what do you drive? hybrid by any chance? No no nothing like that. There's my Hun-powered jeep over there. No one gets better milage than those crazy Hun vandals. Here take this cucumber as a gift let's go won't you and make me feel like a man. Ok, but can my friend Jesus come too. End.

Wow. was that fun or what?! Now, imagine that excitement but every night. Orgasmic I'd say. Makes me want to howl.

Case No. 2 to Join

We are getting so old. Illogically old. 22 years we were born and we don't really know how much time we have to enjoy our company. And is there a better way to connect with others than fantasy sports in the Internet?

Tangy.

Thirty Minute Wanton

"I have seen archipelagos in the stars,
Feverish skies where I was free to roam!
Are these bottomless nights your exiled nests,
Swarm of golden birds, O Strength to come? -A.R.

What did you see?

Dirty orange monsters grazing.
September clouds, mushy, and nourishing the field of trees.
A scandalized women taking her punishment
I saw, because, my asshole was not able to see.

I stayed up all night and thought of the real world.
A bag full of oil and killing chickens to eat.
Reading the constitution by the candle light
Chatting with whomever my minds eye seek

Streaks of light shone at the carpet
Fresh morning, offering anew.
I quickly rejected and knew
It was time to sleep.

An Alpaca, Llama and Guanaco

An ironclad lad trotting after an Irish woman twittering at the sky;
Jawless fish or is it a loris drawn in Mercator projection

Huh, said I . Is the mercury or the merocrine making you taste savory
It was a Saturday. We we all wearing our satchels, high and ready for a good wank
Even the tadpoles came out to play with us- a synergic euphoria

We left the rotunda in search of a good roof for romance as according to Romance law
Brisk, stupid, religious to happiness
We found a nice one with a bay window underneath.

We conversed. Remembering nothing, saying little.
'The Remoulade in this sandwich has too mayonnaise."
"There's a lot of non-words in the dictionary; non vegetarian, nonreundant, nonJew, nonrigid, nonuniversal.
"My mind is littered, I feel it."
"I majored in hieroglyphics."
"I studied eristics and it didn't get me anywhere and here, somewhere, I feel Eros."
"Muck! Lost Espial! Cookie!
"Stop the bourgeois Caliban."
With no noticeable end. It went on.

Rumble in the Jungles

A consensual bloodbath is near.
Will Hialeah Polo owner Marko Serrano be our Henry VIII and kill Penguin owner, and current girl and friend, Christie Zavaleta if she does not bear him a win?
Or, will Zavaleta become a cruel mix of Chrisitine de Pizan and Simone de Beauvoir and restraint from fondling romps if she does not get the big W.
Truly, only observing the relevant historical context can we begin to understand the meaning of this fantasy football match.

Traditionally, significant others shy away from competing with one another. It's just not good for business. The love business, ooohhh yeaahhh. In our multicultural, tipsy-turvy society tradition is for the nerdos (in our case we don't have a lot of multicultural-ness going on, one is Jap other is Korean, to-ma-toe=to-ma-to.) Still, Mr. Serrano or as he prefers to be called in the streets, Hialeah Polo, is willing to shake up conventionality and beat the shit out of his women. In turn, if he loses, he risk being completely emasculated. Suddenly, he will be flipping channels on late-night TV and begin to really consider Extenze.
Ms. Zavaleta joins the million of women actively seeking a feminist agenda. What's more non-Barbie than beating your boyfriend at football? Not much, maybe just cutting his nuts off. And how will the dynamics of the relationship change if she sees him lose?
Hemmingway wrote a short story on showing fear and cowardice in front of a women in a hunting trip. Didn't end well for the fella. She slept with the hunting guide. And, she shot her husband. Who knows if something similar might happen or the exact consequences. But, nothing should be dismissed.

Next Up: A Look Back

1)Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton
--Yes, I know what you're thinking. "WTF." Little known fact is Hamilton and Burr were totally gay for each other. One of America's first unhealthy, violent relationships. But, they had such chemistry in the sack, I'll spare you the details. And boy did they set the bar high for unhealthy couples. For some reason, the bumpy linear passage of time (if you subscribe to such thought) has us believe Burr killed Hamilton in a duel because of political slander. That's plain wrong and kinda silly. Burr shot his lover because for not taking out the garbage as he had been told on several occasions....

2) Adam and Eve. A dare contest between lovers hat got all of us in a lot of trouble.

3) I don't know.

200

For the 200th post: A macabre cri de coeur.

x x x

IN Olbermann fashion, those who are not brainwashed (most of us, I hope) should call for the eradication of the bulk of Fox's on-air staff. There's nothing to get the loonies to get loonier than a black President, it seems. Oh, and social reforms that are for the people and less worried about turning profits for conglomerate. The tragedy occurs when the populist are tricked into faux populist banter by the GOP. Outside looking in; one can see their policies would not work for the populist. Yet, they remain strong. They are loyal to ignorance. The true crime, however, is with those who are informed but still relay half-truths, fears and phony "facts." It's healthy to have multiple parties in a government. It's actually a shame we only have two major parties. So, exterminating the Republicans would be fun but not politically useful. Truth remains, those who bear knowledge should use it for the betterment of whatever they want to better. It's a kin to having lots of money for its own sake. Both are bane, vain and immoral. The likes of O'Reilley and Beck manipulate knowledge for ratings, politics or just fun at the expense of the uninformed, fact-challenged, or plain dumbos. The easy counter being the left those the same thing. Sure, we strongly advocate our ideas. But, the nature of the left, progress, does not call on fear and lies. Usually the left tries to get on with new social trends. Whereas, conserving naturally leads to trying to hold back the reins of society in fear it steers out of order. At times, society pulls harder than conservatives can hold. Then, enter bat-shit crazy remarks.
The give-and-take, cyclical nature of our two-party system has its advantages. It just seems those holding back are at times doing so because they think they must. It's just what they are supposed to do. No matter if it's for a human right such as healthcare. Which in turn makes them ideologues. Political enslavement for those unfortunates that cannot think beyond what they hear at 5-10 p.m. on the news.

Chaos, Math God, Cycles and Something

Nikolai Kondratiev
Kitchin: 3 to 5 five years
Kuznets: fifteen to twenty years
Leonardo Fibonacci: 1.618, phi

The Great Pin War

Stream No 12

ON the river's end there's an organ
playing sing along tunes.
Showboats bright pass through
Stopping to eat at the bayou
For all around there is no Sound
Greater, murkier, livelier than that which livens the bayou
Straight-jacket loons dance
under the stars that are free for all of us
Waving, shaking, screaming. Primal exchange.

Exchange, exchange. Silly exchange. If it had anything to do about IT.
Mark price (it don't belong to you)
Where are the knights
We look back. Dead guides.
The cry for help cannot pass through time.
Come, come there's work to be done.
We cannot-must not-waste idle time.
Precious air of ours. It'll blow us to our own victory.
We'll celebrate forever.
On or Off.
Let's be the switch maker.

And when the five horsemen come galloping, bearing thunderous destruction.
I'll tell them: "I like your horse."

I Think I am Crazy

A cat disguised as a man talking parrot talk advised me today. It was something about the stock market. It may have been a future deep depression meltdown, it sounded really urgent. But, I couldn't pay attention. Well, first it was confusing to hear parrot talk from a cat disguised as a man and I was really hungry. This is why you should never skip breakfast. I skipped it once and look what happens. All rot. I ma eat two breakfast tomorrow. An Eastern type breakfast and a Western type breakfast. Be inclusive: It's my pre-New Year's Day resolution. That and walk more. Walking usually leads to things. And, the more I walk the more I will find. I guess. I worry sometimes. Usually about the eight of Jon and Kate. What if they play continuous reruns of the late on late-night TV for years to come. They'll never escape those confusing times. They had it coming, I'd reckoned, being eight and all.

It's Not Easy

It's not easy being a grammatically-correct pimp out in these crazy syntax streets. It'd be difficult, do you know what I am stating? Sometimes peeps be misplacing commas, like so, and here, and no periods, do you know what I am saying?
Once, I even saw ;:,. all together. I thought language died that day.
Anyway, do you know what I say. You got to pimp these words. Make them work for you. If the word isn't working right and not producing, you must drop that four-letter bitatch. You gotta be firm with these words. They can get wild and loose. But, you tell em'; Yo bitch I strongly advise you to check yourself before you suffer some wreckage. I'll get a synonym, bitch. Replace you with five other bitches.

Leaves rustling as the wind passes through. Not for the first time but it sounds foreign and fresh. Somewhere there is its mirror like this sentence.

Countdown till' Next Year

Thanks to everyone that participated in my birthday celebrations.
Now that my B-day, as the kids say, has passed it's the official start of the holiday season.
First up is Halloween. I'm not sure why we would celebrate death before baby Jesus' birth. I guess backward story telling is all the rage these days.
So, Halloween. Another chance to party collectively and for girls' to carry out their naughty, sexy fantasies.
In its inherent intentions Halloween is the celebration of death, the afterlife, the unknown. Thankfully, somewhere along the line girls decided to turn into a slutathon. And thank Satan for that. It ranges from sexy nurses to frivolous secretaries.
Maybe, it's just me. But, so eagerly wanting to be the former or latter or something in between and beyond has some rooted meaning.
Ladies: You don't have to wait until the end of October to be slightly sluttier.
It's Halloween every day for countless of women across the world.
And if you like it so much and make the jump into what's called prostitution (I call it smart-fucking) then don't be ashamed. After all, you would be partaking in the world's oldest profession.
---"Oh, you're doctor?"
==="Well, I'm a prostitute. Don't worry we can't all be part of history."
That could be you.


I've been thinking of my X-Mas list. I've been a good, diligent boy this year. Santa should be especially giving. It's been rough with the recession and all. Sometimes I wake up drenched in cold sweat late at night thinking the Dow will plunge again. I mean I do my best. I pray every night for God to keep safe Goldman Sachs, Merril Lynch, the Fed, Bank of America, Morgan Stanley, etc. I think they would pray for me if I were in trouble. Still, the powers of Santa Claus are needed to assure the safety of our financial institutions.
Another so far in my X-Mas shortlist is to never hear about Afghanistan again or Pakistan. The buzz word among politicos is AfPak. So cute. Anyway, there seems to be an increasing number of people who think the situation in AfPak is fucked beyond repair.
So if you can't fix something completely why fix it just a little bit so it can break again? (Yeah, I just oversimplified the shit out of a massive problem) But, this region has been in turmoil every since the British left it by its lonesome. Do we need the British to recolonize the AfPak. Possibly. As long as we can talk of another region of the world we can save or pretend to save so we can exploit it. It's just boring.

Keeping the Streak Alive

It's looking more likely that I will make it to my 22nd birthday. I would like to go ahead and congratulate myself in advance on a fine year.
Among the high points of the winding year are the fact I have not clogged my toilet. I love a good toilet. This may be the one. Unfortunately, like all good things, it will come to a bitter end. But, I will make sure that before we part I will give it a shit it will never forget. Leave them smiling; I always say.
I grew a gorgeous mane. Cut it. Then grew it again. (hmm this could be a hit song)
I thrived under the "recession." Which by the way, unless every person I know is living in a magical bubble, was mostly smoke and mirrors. Yes, the job market sucks. I couldn't get a job through Craigslist. But, I don't see any soup kitchens around. Or 45-year-old boxers trying to make a comeback to feed their children. Recession missmmecion. Businesses fail. It's what they do, at one time or another.
Around this time last year, I was a pudgy 30 pounds heavier. I must say; it has changed my life. I'm so light in my feet now. I type faster. I think faster. Pretty much I do everything as I did but much faster. Productivity is at an all time high.
I've become a fantasy football powerhouse.
Went to Europa, eloped with err dammit never mind that one.
Did a lot of things in a lot of places with several people. Last spring break was fun and in hindsight dangerous.
Vegas was fun. And that's all I'm going to say about that now.
I found the love of my life. She has a funky name but all for the better. She's so smart. Maybe, sometimes too smart. And although she's incredibly practical she can be fun and spontaneous too. Oh, Google. Your I'm Feeling Lucky button never looses its magic.
The Gators kicked-off the year with another championship win. Now, they are well on their way to coda the year with an SEC championship and as it is tradition, another national championship.
Americans did something, uh what's that they did?... something about a black guy and a house. I don't know. I forgot. It's probably not important.
Our friends in the Right are doing their best to deter America's health. Don't you take away the hand that hits us hard in the face big government.
Not a bad year, so far.

Quote of the Day

From the Times:

In 1968, more than 30 planes were hijacked or attempted to have been hijacked to Cuba, including two that day.

Lol. Cuba in the 60s was today's Middle East. Two in one day?! Man, something good was brewing in Cuba in the 60s. Oh yeah ineffective government, gambling and salsa nights.

Me: Scholar, Visionary, Uncontrollably Sexy..now Survivor Man?

Yes. As seen here Burmese pythons and the like are invading Florida. A couple nights ago I was most probably attacked by a babay Burmese Python, nonetheless a python. I couldn't tell at the time. I was too startled by my bravery. Now, I can proudly say I survived a Burmese Python attack. And how did I survive this deadly threat? I threw a pen at it. Oh, indeed the pen is mightier than the sword. I didn't understand what that mean until that night. And what a mighty pen it was. It still lays where I threw it at the vile beast before I caught it and ate its head. (You have to be assertive. If you do anything short of ripping its head off, you loose respect and soon you'll have a crowd of Burmese Pythons outside your steps). so just another story to add to my memoirs. I am so seasoned for a young man.

Snuggie: Debunked, Analyzed and Worned

So overdue.

I saw this new Snuggie commercial and I must express myself.
OK, this starts off in an almost sarcastic level of happiness due to wearing a Snuggie. This could very well pass as a parody of its own product.
Why are thy waving at me?! No!!! They've broken the invisible wall. You never break the TV/audience barrie Snuggie people! Never.
Jesus, couldn't they have hired a white guy that could dance while drinking coffee and wearing a robe, er sorry-snuggie- a little better. For Christ's sake he's doing early moves from the 80s. And, it's not even clear if he's doing it because of the Snuggie or there's something really good on TV. I just think buying a Snuggie pushes you toward insanity if you are already there.
I love the oversell. Listing things you can do while wearing a Snuggiel read a book, work on your laptop, clean, etc. They forgot to mention you can do all those things in everyday clothing. Oh and you can also wear a snuggie while; looking like a member of a dangerously happy cult, while committing murder (Dexter would like it) and for those who are of passionate blood have it on at all times, you never know when your next negligent manslaughter is around the bend.
At around 0:41 tell me if you happen to see this Snuggied family while camping or hiking, you wouldn't be scared shitless some type of sacrifice or mass suicide is going down.
Side-note: Is Snuggie ahead of the curb? Is this how we all will dress in the future? Maybe, something to consider. It does look futuristic. I mean, get up and still be warm?! If you would've told me I can stay warm and do things like get up, read and drink coffee, I would've thought you were crazy.
There's a guy behind the old couple wearing snuggies in the theater who's way too happy. Everyone in this commercial is sarcastically happy. Also, if I were that guy and see two old people wear huge robes, dammit I mean snuggie, I'm leaving the theater immediately.
And I know you have to find all upside to the product you sell. But a Snuggie to a sporting event? Seriously?! That's just not completely insane but you'll definitely will be steaming hot.
Oh, similar products sell for $60? Those are expensive sheets that are used in comparison.

When You Do Ugly Things

When you do ugly things and notice your twisted insides; it;s nice to think of a higher order to things. A perfect harmony.

Time Holding Its Breath

The salty taste lingers from tasting the sour soul. He ran and ran and finally got away to a wigwam on the beach.

Now he looked at the crackling fire under millions of stars, feeling the insignificance so many others felt under the endless sky. Far off where the horizon breaks, lightning struck. It looked like a tempest from the coast. Probably was. The salty sea air came in strong, in a hurry. Soon the storm would approach but he had confidence in his brown-hide covered wigwam. Inside there were candles to read things he wrote. In the corner there were ornaments made from beach wood and rock.

The fire shone bright and mighty. The warmth gave a feeling of security. Warmth does that kind of thing; like baby ducks covered and safe from the world we, at the end, must adapt to. We shape it but as much as it wants to be shaped.

The wind picked up. It howled through the night. A couple yards off you can hear the forest animals run for further covered.
He, however, stayed in the wigwam at the beach. He liked it there. No need to leave.

Lightning and thunder dominated. It was a deafening will of power from Nature. He started to wonder if he was going to make it.
For no reason, he began to take inventory of his things. There were 12 spots in the inner hide, 3 books, 14 pieces of dry wood, 2 bananas, 2 cloths for covering while sleeping, 1 hole to store things and 2 large spears. In the corner lay 5 stone pieces and berries of different colors.

The tempest had left the ocean, the storm grew stronger inland. The maddening whistle of the wind was barely audible through the thunder. Night turned into day. The burst of lightning made the beach into a giant Christmas tree. He laid there and fell alseep.

Sometimes It Seems We Are Not Far Off...

aviarium from muench on Vimeo.

And Another One

The end to another weekend. So slow to arrive and so quick to go by.
"The way is long but the end is near."
I gained another victory. Sweet, delicious fantasy football victory. I'm sure ESPN has a stat for my two-week winning streak. Probably along the lines; Most consecutive fantasy football wins by a Cuban in Gainesville in October after 2003. Truly a memorable, worthy stat.
I've been trying to stay humble. But, it's hard when you got Notre Dame calling you for a Head Coach position. No! Notre Dame, I must complete my studies.
Here's a short story: The man died from a heart attack. Nature produced more men. The End.

Music Video of the Week

It's nice to see someone put in images what I see in my head.

AIR MUSIC VIDEO SING SANG SUNG from MATHEMATIC SAS on Vimeo.

The Pain Lingers No.2

I've made this sketch in hopes of justice. Hopefully, this will lead to my tormentor's capture. This is the initial event as I remember. He may have been holding a gun and knife, I forgot to include it. I'm still quivering with fear. This is hard...So hard. It was looking into the eyes of Pol Pot, Stalin and Hitler.

The Pain Lingers No.1

I've been looking for a Snake-Survival Anonymous but there seems to be none. I guess I'm going to have to make up my own Snake-Survival Anonymous, accompanied by a 12-step recovery program. I mean, talking in circles once a week among people of similar experiences is the only way to get over tragic situations.
I would post a picture of the rapist. That's what I'm calling it. It raped me emotionally. But, it's too soon....just too soon to see it again...
The last couple hours have been tough as a Snake-Survival victim. My life is completely changed. You took my life!!! Do you hear me perpetual snake!?!? You took it!!! My liffeeeee!. Gone.
I can't go to the shower the same. I saw a cylinder object moving about and I screeched thinking it was the snake rapist. It was my penis.
I won't be able to proudly say "I have never used a gun." As soon as I run out of food and basic necessities I'm going to Wal-Mart and buying the biggest, baddest, most redneck twelve-gauge shot gun available. And I will be carrying that shot gun inside a heart-shaped box with straps so as not to warn my predator.
I wanted to eat a Kiwi. But then I thought of its sliminess and little hairs. I just couldn't do it. You took Kiwis away from me snake rapist!!!
I cry at anytime now without warning. Do you know how weird that's going to look in job interviews? And obviously, I can't discuss being an SS victim. It's painful and those things are frowned upon in some cultures.

Prologue: The Encounter

It's out there. An unholy, unwelcome neighbor.
I followed my getting-off-the car-coming-home-from-the-gym routine when the evil sight seized me.
There it was, in front of my door step, mocking my Welcome mat. It knew it was the most unwelcome thing in my guestbook. And, it mocked me.
It was slithering along and as I stopped in my tracks, it stopped in its. A classic quick-draw stare down followed. My muscles tensed, sweat dripping from my forehead (and not because of the gym) yet I was resolute. The goal at hand was clear as day; don't die.
It had most of the advantages; faster, sleeker, slimier, bittier, beadier, eviler and it was dark.
Then the car's white lights turned off. I couldn't see it. I hurried back to the car, quickly turned the ignition and turned the lights steady on. I saw a pen in the cupboard, a chance to even the playing field. I walked toward where my enemy lay and without much thought threw the pen as hard as one could throw such objects.
The blue pen clacked on the sidewalk. I had missed it all together. The snake was gone. But, not far.
And yes, it was gone and I was alive. Still, a deeper hurt lingers.

P.S. Let me just say I had never opened a door with such velocity. Anyone watching must have thought I had something incredible waiting for me inside. Maybe, Miley Cyrus. hmm. wait a minute Miley quit Twitter yesterday and all of sudden there are snakes crawling in my door step. That's too weird to be coincidence. Oh Miley, I know what this is. You're young. I remember in grade school we show affection by slandering, or playfully hitting one another. But, this snake thing is no proper way of showing affection. I rather fight in the Civil War than have that fucker come in here.

Waiting

It's been several hours now and no one has texted or called to congratulate me on the Nobel Peace Prize win.
I supported Obama from the onset. Even in the primaries, before he was President of the World Obama and just was old Pallin' Around with Terrorist Obama.
I probably fed him or some of his staff a couple times by donating money to the campaign (a couple times)! And yet, no e-mails of hate or gratitude. The prize is for us all. He said so himself.

This is F-ing Weird

Those crazy Berliners.

An App For That?!

Are you a conservative? Tired of repeating the same talking points? There's an App for that. No, really there's an App for that. As reported by the Atlantic, you can now download the Conservative Talking Points iPhone application.
There are 50 political topics, 205 talking points and 965 facts and figures.
With such classic topics like: America the Greatest Nation Ever, Fascism and Obama's Extremist Mentors and Advisers.
I would have never thought an iPhone application would evoke laughter and fear. Yet, here it is, moderately priced at $1.99.

Eveyone Must Devote a Several Minutes to This

I can't stop laughing

Market Street

Some good stuff from John Cassidy's article "Rational-Irrationality."

He explains; The root problem is what might be termed "rational irrationality"- behavior that, on the individual level, is perfectly reasonable but that, when aggregated in the market place, produces calamity."

To me the key word is aggregated. It connotes that the system has to be already 'ill' for it to be aggregated. Under that context it's a telling indicator of the system.

John Maynard Keynes, one of the daddies of our system, put the economic game in terms we all can understand: "It is, so to speak, a game of Snap, of Old Maiden, of Musical Chairs-a pastime in which the victor who says snap neither too soon nor too late, who passes the Old Maiden to his neighbor before the game is over, who secures a chair for himself when the music stops."

We'll forgive Maynard for the sexist language. Even though most execs are men, so it's not too incorrect.

In the Stream No.5

White, black, white and red
Sounds ooohh, ahhhs, laaaaaa hhhaaaaas
In a speeding highway in my head

Voices read, do this, read more, you don't know that
Hunger little but I have a hungry lament
Sense wanting more, to feel more, to be more

Corgito ergo sum?
My thoughts, dreams, ideals are barely real
I be not.

For Hemmingway's Favorite Season

Fall

The trees outside my window changing
orange then brown
Twilight is red, vibrant. Alive.
Bleeding skies burst through my closed window
Then, I must open it.

Children are well in session
Packing sweaters in the misty morning

Harvest is ripened
as chilly October winds cut through the farmer's wheat

The air is playful, light, fresh
Two poles together
Harmonious nature-if you look around-you'll see
See the budding; new life, a new songbird
Opportunity before the lazy winter

And people still cry as the foliage change
Fall sweet rain
It's like a promise it'll be OK

Happy Birthday To Monthy Python

South Park tribute:


via videosift.com

Original:

Faith

“Faith means doubt. Faith is not the suppression of doubt. It is the overcoming of doubt, and you overcome doubt by going through it. The man of faith who has never experienced doubt is not a man of faith,” - Thomas Merton.

I've had quite a lot of doubt for years now. Religion is not for everybody. Right now, I don't think it's for me. But, I never stray as far as to call myself an atheist. It's too resolute.

This quote bring one my idols to mind, Dostoevsky. And to an extend Tolstoy.
Dostoevsky was a man of profound insight, a literary genius. Dan Brown or whoever is sensationalist de jour can't write The Brothers Karamazov. Dostoevsky died a man of faith. But, he battled with it throughout his life. Being sent to a Serbian prison will do that kinda thing to you. And, he raised many interesting questions and arguments against and for religion in his books and other writings.
At least for me that's what I respect the most. A comprehensive observation of a subject. As much as I love football, hearing Tim Tebow spew about Jesus every time he gets a chance, knowing he was raised by missionaries kind of deflates his point.
I rather look at true faith as a journey. Especially in our times. With the wealth of (free) information it's illogical to think men, or women, or an elephant came from a divine power. How do you argue against carbon dating? How do you argue physics? Evolution? How does one instantly believe in fat babies flying about in the sky? Or that Jesus walked on water and ascended to heaven?
To me to arrive at a faith-driven answer takes time getting to know both arguments. I like to reference to the people that go through life-changing events or some type of shock and find answers in religion but is that true faith. What inspired them was their misfortune. It's a journey that for those who take it is long and winding. I'll let you know what's at the end for a godless mystic.

I really want to write more on the subject beside a quick thought, putting proper time into it. More, some other time.

China's Communist Party Parade

This video has gone viral. I can tell why; it's nicely shot and captured China's dicketry nicely. Side-note: Our women soldiers should wear pink-mini skirts at all times even in battle. oh yeah.

China's 60th Anniversary national day - timelapse and slow motion - 7D and 5DmkII from Dan Chung on Vimeo.

Blogging

A reason for blogging by the first bad-ass blogger "Stick-n-Move" Montaigne.

A Surge

I'm not going to argue with the infinite monkey theorem. Therefore, the more I write in a daily basis sometime before infinity I should have a grand oeuvre.
Well, some would argue my oeuvre is substantial and I could stop writing all together, like a slightly older Arthur Rimbaud.
And as part of the blogosphere, it is my duty to manically write short original pieces and link to sites of interest around the web.
Checking out Andrew Sullivan's blog, I felt at shame.

Sport Trades Are Racist

We like to repeat this little quip that came in vogue some couple hundred years ago: All men are created equal. For those who think numerically; x=x.

After defeating most of the ugly front of racism, one flank prevails. Sport trading.
Or, trading x amount of my players for x amount of your players and/or money/other incentives.

We let hundreds of these racist ordeals take place every year throughout the world. Futbol has made it an international trade, all too similar to the African slave route. Why is it one of my players might be worth just 2/5 or another player or maybe even less. Vice versa; why are some athletes worth 2 even 3 athletes. It's the same as admitting my athlete is only half of the worth of your athlete. What a horrible truth.

And is it a coincidence that most athletes are black? Impossible.

Humanity couldn't let go of its favorite game. So, we disguised it and called it football, basketball, etc.

Computers are the 21st centuries' horse. Even better yet, my PC's don't sleep and their food (electricity) is relatively cheap compared to sugar cubes.
My computers, according to Moore's Law, will be 10 times cheaper and 10 times faster within 10 years. Unfortunately for the horse, enough 10 years cycles and it will die.

I'm pretty sure the girl next to me has swine flu. She looks a little piggish. Should I kill her? Hmm, I am in the library. There will be witnesses. If I beat her to death the blood will not make it pleasant study conditions. Still, they'll probably herald me as a hero.

Yeah, I am going to kill her. I must kill her. If not, many more will die from her bad manners of not covering her mouth as she sneezes.

I killed her.

It was smooth and easy. Nothing the old cockzilla can't do.

She deserved it. Aside from her horrid snnezing manners she had a Disney Princess notebook. She must have had major, deep-seeded issues, she was probably looking for a way out.

Who would've thought it'd so easy to answer philosophical morality questions.

Advantages to an AirBed

1) What's more green than air. Chicks heart green. I heart earth. Earth hearts girls. So girls heart green and me for hearting earth. e.q.d.

2) If there's a flood I can just go back to sleep and be cradled by waves as I float away.

3) NASA uses air in space. So like TurmaPedic I too can claim I have technology in my bed used by NASA.

4) I have an abundant supply of air, so I guess I have a bed forever if I wished.

5) It's anti-establishment. Yeah man, there's no big company logo in my Coleman air bed man, no Nike swastika or Microsoft symbol of child labor man.

6) Portability. I often sleep in different places. Wherever it feels right at the moment, you know. Sometimes it's inside my room, other times it's outside in the lawn. I don't decide these things.

7) Easy sleepovers. Let me just throw a scenario out there and see if you "old mattries," as you are known by the hip airbed crowd, can do this: "Hey, Andy. You know what'd be totally fun as fcking fuck.
"What?!"
"A sleep over. But, man it sucks, I don't have an extra bed, drag."
"haha, don't worry man, I have an air bed! I ll take it over right now. We can play with it before too. It floats and deflates really fast and makes this awesome sound like a loud shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Oh man, can't wait, see you soon."

8) Karma Sutra was based on sex in an air bed.

9) It increases in value making it the best investment aside from large groups of working children.

Upward and Onward with the Elderly

Bret Favre has taught me something. Wranglers are real tough jeans, yet comfortable and affordable.

Also, old people are not just bigger, wrinklier babies that are good for Social Security money. They are also good for touchdowns and ending three week long curses. So, should we still want death panels? I don't know, I guess an accuracy and strength test will weed out the weak ones.

Anyway, thanks to Bret I dislike old people a little less today.

Victory at Last

First a thought:I wonder why the Earth doesn't love plastic as much as I do. Maybe, it has not realized it does not have to clean plastic silverware among its other wonderful uses.

This is the eve of the first Guantanamo Ponies R Fun victory. So, let me get this out the way; We are going to celebrate but this is just one week in a string of many weeks which makes up a pretty necklace at the end of the season (at least that;s what I think we are playing toward; whom has the prettiest, longest necklace of victories). Anyway, we are going to look at film tomorrow. I'm thinking of starting with a romantic-comedy and move onto New York gangster dramas. From there we'll assess our mistakes and build on our achievements. There's a lot of room for improvement. e.g., dropping and adding players excessively, knowing what a waiver is, learning my ESPN password and user name. Hopefully we'll have these kinks worked out by the end of the season.

In a lighter note, this day along with the founding of America, the birth of Google from its parents- love and knowledge, the invention of oral sex and other historically important things, will be special to our lives in an annual basis. The Ponie's first victory, like the Patriots beating the English, announces a new Fantasy world order of uncontrollable awesomeness. I just wish we could've won on Friday, surely the Olympic committee would have changed its mind and made the Olympic games in my adopted hometown of Hialeah. Still, I suspect along with a national weeklong holiday in October (making it a serious contender with contentious December) the Guantanamo Ponies R Fun will receive a sandwich after its namesake. It is to be debated wether it will be made of tender pony meat or not. I say, hell yes!! One thing is certain; the sandwich will be fun.

Ahh. And the delicious icing is that I beat a Frenchman. Make a foie gras out of your shame Frenchie! Garcell will claim to be also half Northern Hemisphere and part Southern Hemisphere (it seems all known cultures culminated in his family to give birth to the most ethnically diverse baby in the world; him) But, we all know he's French or some dirty Balkan rogue.

I'm expecting the endorsements to come a-ringing any moment now. Watch out Tiger Woods. I;m right behind ya. It feels good to know I will the first Fantasy football billionaire.

Tom Petty's Sarah Palin

After many, many years I've finally figured the true meaning of Tom Petty's hit song Free Fallin'. It was profile song on Sarah Palin, before she was even a wide known VP candidate wack job or porn star. Here are some of the real lyrics with a video of the old, unofficial lyrics.


She's a good girl, loves her mama
loves Jesus and America too
She's a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis
loves Mooses and her Toddy too

It's a long day, livin' in Wasilla
there's a freeway, runnin' through nowhere
and I'm a bad boy, 'cause I don't even miss her
I'm a bad boy for downloading her porn

And It's free, free salmon'
Yeah It's free, free fallin'
Salmon

All the beehive, housewives, walkin' through the valley
Move east down, Pennsylvania Blvd.
And all the bad boys, are standing in the town halls
All the good girls, are home with loaded guns

I Was So much older then; I am Younger than that Now

With a scent it's easy to remember something readily forgotten. After trying so hard, so much effort lost it's an invisible lasso -- keeping me in suspense.
Squinting through the fog when I was left there. Truth easily dissolves into the fog.

- - -- -- -- --- -- --- ----- -- ---- ----
Romance in Durango :
Hot chili peppers in the blistering sun
Dust in my face and my cape
Me and Magdalena on the run
I think this time we shall escape

Sold my guitar to the baker's son
for a few crumbs and a place to hide
But, I can get another one
and I'll play for Magdalena as we ride.

No llores mi querida, Dios nos vejila
Soon the horse will take us to Durango
Arragame mi vida, soon the desert will be gone
Soon we'll be dancing the Fandango...

Was that the thunder that I heard
My head is vibrating-I feel a shot of pain
Come sit by me don't say a word
O', can it be that I am slain?
Quick Magdalena take my gun
Look up on the hills that flash of light
Me muero, my little one,
I might now make it through the night.


XXXXX--------XXXXXXXXXX----------XXXXXX

The door slammed then I knew it was too late for words. She called out from the window, 'there's no shirt here, get your boots and go.' I put my hands in my pocket and spoke to my shoes. How come? She threw a rum bottle as her face turned bright red. You shouldn't have; that's good rum. 'Get out of here, I don't need your crutch any more please don't come back.' I sat up from her rug, gathered the shards licked the rum and out the front door. So it was the last time Joey saw Isis.
A-many roads were burned until a drunk horse through forgotten woods took him to her.
The moon didn't fall, the stars kept their lights. He brought back the horse into reality, in a stable of sleek obsidian. His numb-less days are for the better. A falling out like lovers usually do; like an old piercing slowly closing,healing but the mark stays.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()


Hi, a messenger sent me with an unworthy message:see for me if her loyalty lies with the celestial.
I am putting my hopes to the floor. I don;t care anymore.

------ --------- -------- --------- -----------
A fortune teller told me beware of too much peace and quite. I woke up disoriented in a bed of lilies, I had lost all gravity by then. I've been living in the clouds. Everything looks upside down. I am in the top of the pole or in the bottom. I can't tell whose the joker anymore. I can't even touch my feelings. I'll never know any ending, itt be surprise to come to learn anything permanent about myself.

--------- ------- -------- ---------

Morning broke, the Indonesian sun shone bright red in the water. From the bungalow her hat blew off as a cold breeze went the other way. The American, naked jumped off the boat and headed to the bungalow. She begins to speak but he wisp her away into the hammock. They slept holding each other through the bright morning sun into the lazy afternoon. 'I bought you something, the promise of a proper ring but here's one made out of pedals. She yelled in happiness as someone shrieked far away. The tempest broke into rage and the earth shook as they stared into each other's eyes. They began to prey, kissed as the ground exploded. Bye now, he said.

Biographies

Browsing through Wikipedia, the world's source for facts, there is a reoccurring trend in modern biographies. People are mainly pictured within the confines of work-related accomplishments. The highly cited being associated with blue-chip companies. Is this how we want to be remembered; as an attaché to a conglomerate? Well, not me. Life is bigger, and grander than working for Microsoft or IBM for 30 years. All biographies should be modeled as this:

Andy Pino, all around good guy and sheep herder, was born to a traditional, yet rare male Father and female Mother family. As a child he studied the classics before commencing to contemporary authors. When he was 5 years old he read most things that are available to read. In his teenage years he was pen pals with F. Scott Fitzgerald and Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster. His proudest day was when he helped an elderly women cross a particularly wide street. He's developed theories on quantum physics, metaphysics,zoology and 10 easy steps on how to please your mate but all have been refuted by scholarly blowhards on the basis of being too correct.
The three things he cannot live with out are nitrogen, oxygen and the hydrogen. His favorite atomic number is 36. He practices all major religions diligently and it is widely believed he will be the first Jewish-Muslim-Buddhist Pontiff.
He cannot get enough of orange marmalade and passion fruit jam. Yums.
He is a holistic healer and could be seen preaching new-age medicines in late night infomercials.
Life magazines plans to name him Human of the Year from 2015-2025, which will coincide with his development of the first ever time machine.
In the weekends he plays professional football, basketball, baseball and in the winter months, curling.
He likes Italian food.