Oedipus Wrecks while "playing chess for money."

[stilltrucking]

"You are stabbing me in the back" he would say
And he told Alamo Rose she would regret how she coddled me.
But I was not her favorite son, just her baby boy.

But he knew my fears
and and played them like I was a radio.

Cain and Able
aka me and jitterbug.
me blowing the bubble.



Alamo rose would say of me and jitterbug
He is kind to a fault
And I am honest to a fault

I would have preferred to be kind.

[westcoast]

what a great photo. family dynamics are always strange to me. my mom favoured my sister. it caused a lot of problems. i guess parents can't help what they do. some of it, anyways

where did the name "jitterbug" come from? did he dance? it's cool.

~westie

[stilltrucking]

I inherited my father's madness
A compulsive gambler he made so much money and lost it all, because he had to play to lose. Part of his guilt I suppose

His salvation was chess, he still gambled but he did better at it than poker.
He taught me the moves when I was five or six, but I was so terrified of him I could not focus. He would play me with his back to the board, he had it all visualized in his head. He would tell me to play the whole board and visualize the chess pieces with force vectors emanating from each one. He played Bobby Fischer to a draw. I am happy he found solace in chess. Took me years to mourn him.



There is more
much more
boring personal family stuff
that won't interest anyone but me
nothing but a compulsion to continue

Everyday
more of it comes back to me
and I can let it go
all I got to do is put it in a text box
and hit submit
and I am free of it.

"playing chess for money" I ripped that off from constantine.

[stilltrucking]

I missed your reply while I was posting

Jitterbug was what my father called my brother because all he wanted to do was have fun and dance with the girls. It was not a term of endearment but of scorn.

Jitterbug is the kindest man I have ever known. More than a brother, a friend. The greatest gift besides this life that my parents gave me was my siblings. So much love.

[westcoast]

that's wonderful

~westie

[westcoast]

that's wonderful

~westie

[stilltrucking]

Fear defines me
Fear of that crazy God of ancestors
Fear of women they will never have that power over me again
Fear of heights
Fear of the Ocean
Fear of motorcycles
Fear cars and trucks and twisted steel and shattered glass
Fear of fear
Fear of what is out there on the side of this computer.


mine is the typical story
you people get old they get religious
they get scared of death.

Not too many things I am not scared of, women, motorcycles, sailboats, the internet, myself, and God.

Achilles in Vietnam




Return to Yardsale
































Nothing after the line do not proceed there is nothing there
If you cross that line you will fall off the edge of the earth.
__________________________________________________________







































































































































































































































See I tried to tell you
nothing more to read here






















































































































































































































We are not touchy feely. Not jitterbug and me anyway
We don't hug we don't even shake hands.

siblings

Me in the Dagwood Bumstead shirt with one button. I walk around in rags.

As for the old boards, I'm happy to tell you that I've moved them all to a brand new archive server, designed to be fast and error-free. Here it is, for all posterity: the permanent LitKicks Board Archive.

Looking back at this vast array of human-generated spontaneous content, I have to wonder, what does it all mean? There are over a hundred thousand poems here, for instance ... but what do they all add up to in the larger scheme of things? How can these poems be read? What significance does yesterday's stream of literary ephemera hold today, if any?

http://xianlandia.com/te-amo/2005/03/29 ... _site.html

Return to Yardsale

[stilltrucking]

No I have no idea why
I think I am just tired
or maybe the show is over

Word of my day today is:
Compulsion

I have been fortunate to have so many chances to confront my fears.

[stilltrucking]

I need a live chicken