Stale Gone Sour

...yep. All hallows eve... You and I are going to have a talk one of these days. We need to come to an understanding.

So give it room to breathe. Room to live. Room to awaken not again... but all things new.



Ps. Christmas is in a month and jingles bells don't sound so bad after all.

The Longest Pause

I pray it's not a stop. I don't think I could take that. It's weather I haven't seen in all the years since the beginning of time. Four, to be rounded. It's times like this you pray for spring. But spring rarely shows up early just because you want it to. The winter must be waited out. It is cold. It is dark. ...but the truth is that it has it's own beauty. Quiet. Time to think. Time to make tracks and see how amazingly they get covered by white. Like they were never actually there.

 And the bleaker the winter the more welcome the spring. A warm forgotten friend who invites us to open up and learn again to breathe for enjoyment and not just survival. Don't worry. Spring has never failed before. It may be long in waiting. But spring will come...



Won't it...?

Beware the Swimming Rat

Sit down kids and let me tell you a thing or two about being stubborn... because I know a thing or two about it. It's a friend you don't want. Kind of like a caged up animal that always keeps coming back and eats your popcorn just when the movie is getting good. It dissuades you from what you really want. It reminds you only of yourself and yet it will breath your own air if it can. It is the tandem driver who will drive you into sundry shrubbery every time. Why? It feels nothing and fears nothing. It cannot change and it has no desire to do so. It lurks in dark corners and sunbathes in the quad. It will convince you that the world alone is in chaos. And it doesn't smile at the passer-by. It's a dark little rodent, not a massive whale. People just think it's a whale since it has fins. And is impervious to water.

So don't pick it up at your pet store. Its loyal company is a facade. It's viscumin hardened. And it'll get you in the end.

7th Run

Does it show I'm getting better? Or that it matters less? No. That can't be it. Kneeling on the blanket with two cups of tropical pine lets me know that's not the case. It's more than I could have hoped for. And yeah, I didn't have my glasses on. And that was my fault alone. Forget the closed door. It opened eventually. And came out. Slowly. In a skirt. Or otherwise.

To think that time away was something I thought I needed. No. Just a change of heart. Chips and bricks set aside. Just one more chance to dive into the bushes. Just one voice.

You can choose to be lost in the woods... but I haven't chosen that in a while. Not with someone anyway. But there I am. You can't chuck choice too often before it'll chuck you. Like 4 men down a mountain. Not that that was the problem then, but in one man's mind it was.

A distraction? No. Medium fries and a water. Without the fries. A wrench. Segolily. Better than owning everything as a king. What is it like on the inside? Is there fire there? Or darkness too? Regardless the fact is that the cat is running around now. Someone has to want to pick it up. And that'll likely only be an animal lover.

It isn't a well. And Alfred isn't who you're looking for. Something deeper. Something far more profound. He wants you to find that. But not like you're thinking. Not just so that you can go to Harvard and add greek to your name. No. It's homemade lemon meringue  in a box. Not possible? Why? Because you've never seen it? Well. He hasn't either. You can love brussel sprouts if you want.

The only man that passes. And the other learns. With patience and such. A tie? A bond? If not then really no. But if so don't deny it. Fix it. Hunt it down. Into the forest. Find some frogs. Make a fire. Set up camp. And never leave.

You're Thinking, Huh?

What do you do when no one is looking? Well... sometimes I jump fences. Or shovel sidewalks. Or burn cardboard houses. Or walk on stilts. Or dance in my car. Or get hit by a bus. Or shoot a half court shot. Or wait for the newspaper. Or rake leaves. Or throw very small rocks at windows. Or enjoy the sun. Or wish that 11 was closer to 7. Or image ways to paint a bike pink in a tree. Or watch people. Or open my soul. Or cut my toe nails. Or sit and stare. Or wish that maybe October wasn't a month. Or bag a job. Or wait for the year to end. Or buy a cattle ranch. Or fix my hair. Or eat a turkey. Or pet a dog. Or wait until dark. Or sit on a couch. But I almost certainly am not thinking. That doesn't happen.

Morning Has Broken

As I slowly come into cognition the emptiness swells in my gut. Until it fills my whole being.

...It's another day.

Superstition

It used to be a friend you know?...  the thirteenth. Better than any other said I. Well what do you do when your friend runs over you with a bus? I mean, yeah... you probably should have stayed out of the street like your mother said instead of listening to your father. But what do you do? Especially when they then stop and back over you again. Hitting you twice doesn't fix the problem. Even if it is in reverse.    ...touche.

Complaining isn't the point here. Ten days have done that. Friday, I still love you. I'm the only one you know who doesn't buy that crap they sell. You know that. I'm sorry I ate your animal crackers. Please forgive me?... and we'll find a way to the center of the candy corn. Together.

Drop Out

No, it doesn't sell. But possibly because the others know to save their money. And take a ride in the rain. That's why we have windshield wipers. That and for beatings. To music. And such. Because shoes are fine and all, but there's a lot more to check out than the dirt and the rocks. Some really good stuff. Bo Jangles and kind.    Maybe Val is right. We still don't have it. But at least the most of us don't go back to the alternative mints and gumballs on a cupcake. Don't get me wrong, it looked real nice, but the real reason was lost thanks to sideshow and his friends. Oh yeah, we can all go to Patagonia but the thing is some of us are scared of bats. And mice. And violent shakings of the earth.
Yeah, it's a rock to the face. But think about it. Not the multitask, no. The ability to be there. And there.

So don't.

Unfortuitously Different

And incapable of spelling. Inculcate and other such words in french. But you know...? Not half bad. Not even half of half of that. And not due to the fact there's no birds in the bush and no moon in the sky, those things are there and present as a Mack truck on your toes. But it's not the same. They waxed and washed Gina. And it's a change for the poor old girl.

So a good question. And though sometimes I think the answer no, Often it turns that it's yes instead. Not just a buck. Or standing up straight. Or forgetting to slouch. Or pushing... whatever that might be... A change. Small. Simple. And anything but.

Own That

You ever done something you shouldn't just because you wanted to? Of course you have. And so have I. Like all those times I went about buying a burger from a fast food joint. But there those other times when it's more of trying to do what you thought was best... though really you shouldn't have. Which I guess means it wasn't really best. And still you shouldn't have.

Yep. Like a sunflower in a storm. String it up and it'll still fall over. Just differently. And it'll still be you to blame. A capital g? ...I;m not entirely sure it's worth it. More entirely sure it's not. And remember, there still are those others. It'd just be nice if... if the nova were the one were looking for and not the one you actually just heard.

But that is yours.

Chicken in the Straw

It leaves things up to the imagination. But the imagination is sorted and sullen. So then one? or two? A matter in the day but no matter in kind. It'll grow. Not on the fence like in the field, but it'll grow.

The spelling has changed. The shrubbery has expanded but the locks are all the same. Returned to normal. Not telling. Not keeping. Devoid of any power.

But out of the sun, cool and incessant. Ready to take on the day.

No. 

No.     Still.     Still and sweet.

Sweet without. And yet sweet still. Not be cause but be spite. A full moon on the table and darkness up above. Sounds given. Slowing. Stilling. Different and the same.

Staring blankly and she's there; together looking out into sky.

...and Then Some

But less than you might think. And more. Does that say something to you about your box? It isn't just a spritely thought. It's congestion in the masse. Too lazy to put the ala-pastrophe on there. And for that too.

And what then? The penguins and the national championship and a bag of doritioes and a half grown apple orchard?        ...ok.         I'll succumb on this one. But there are others out there to which you may not get nearly as much. Others taller. Darker. That sort of thing. Only then we turn up the gamma and see that it isn't really so.

So a farce? Some contrived method to achieve some other means? Or just a wash? A crap-shoot.  Imperceptibly genius. Yet genius none the less.  ...nonetheless.

Ask yourself, friend, if you've got the time. And the place. And the means. The choice is indeed your own as the choice will always be. Then why this? Why a bag of beans on the side of the road while still waiting for the bus? A bus you say? There. There's your problem. You could continue to check it on the attascopic scale but that fact remains.

And so do you.

But Then Again....

Hum ho, big deal. That was what the sparrow man said when the cops came to grab him. He was still sitting up out on some precocious limb thinking about the nab he had just had with the fox. Yes. In sox of coarse. Coarse sox.

It was down 'bout 15 today. recon. rekin? rekon... rekon.

and my hands are still wet from it all. Ah that's why. My tie is still inside me shirt!

Tony the tiger in a quicksand suit? Hmm. Interesting that. Like that one city. ...netherford? Ankleshire? Blast! Umm... Dang I don't remember at all. Somewhere south of Katrineholm for sure. I think. I'll have to consult the grand Yucca.

Corn? ...on the cob? Not cool effervescence. Not cool.

So last night I may have gone a bit crazy. and I thought going to bed 4 hours early might cure that. It doesn't apparently. But it all got cleared up. Sort of. I mean a clear as mudd can make things. But then where is the line between mud and murky water. Especially when murky is indeed spelled with an I instead. I mean, ho! Should I be writing two of these?!

But I probably won't because something inside me tries to scream that it's a bad idea and will never work. Though it may get some front page editship. Always.

The sun couldn't match it with a pound of bananas. Others? OBAs? Not likely. But we'll see. The sands of the sea kind of thing, ya know?

Well that's all. My stomach's getting nervous and angry. Fight to the death. The pain is all too far.