I don't know doreen, I suppose the short answer is I post too much. I told you why I deleted most of the fuk me post, for some reason I got the idea that people were seeing as a dick head cowboy trying to screw mz kitty with his boots on. I left as much as I could, Hester wrote a nice little go thing and I had some stuff on their about a vagina that smelled like the hold of tha shrimp boat I worked on way back in Ilwaco Washington. I notice after I deleted my post she finally got a couple of replies. I write crazy stuff off the the top of my head. A lot of deserves to be deleted.
Most of what I deleted were end posts that had nothing in reply, I can not for the life of me see how that could disturb the meaning of what went before, I took one off the mystic arts board about and Osho followers who had a plot to spray salmonela germs on a salad bar in antelope oregon. THe only posts that I can think of that you could possibly be talking about is this one.
. This is it, last one because your Jam was just too hot not to handle [/color]
**********************************************
“I am tired and a disappointed woman, I am no bargin to anyone, please be kind to me.” The Long Goodbye, r.chandler
Loose women
, tight old men
Steaks for two.
Steak, yeah I could do steak. I can eat steak like three men, Curley Moe and…
You get drunk,
i'll get stoned.
Whiskey ramble
Preacher man asking for a donation, sometimes I think that preacher man like to do a little walking too.
I get drunk in the morning stoned in the after noon”
I so seldom drink any more, not that I ever did, I think I was saving it for my golden years. But good booze is hardly in my budget. But I would save up for a decent fith. Jim B. so smooth, “I’ll be your Tennessee chicken if you will be my Dixie Lamb…then that low down southern whiskey…begin to cloud my mind.
thrust it over,
me.
Torque, plenty of torque, thrust remains to be seen
Female cro-magnun sexual trigonometry a mystery to me
Side long looks,
Kareoke tango,
After the Last Tango, can I have the next dance?
High wires,
trapeze acts,
Yeah don’t you find back seat drivers a pain in the neck.
vague kaliope
if not this time then next time this merry go round goes round in a couple billion years or so. Time is a melody.
Meanwhile in the real world.
These cyber dates don’t mean much to me anymore
I get this neighbor the white witch Glynda, realist that I am my eyes go reconnoitering for what is pleasing to the heart, so there a woman who lives close by, She has started looking disappointed lately since I don’t flirt with her anymore. I have tried it about three times, and we always seem to wind up talking about her first two truck driver ex-husbands. I always say, “You don’t want to marry me.”
I guess I better start wearing my short shorts again, start using that exercise machine she likes to watch me work out on. My front porch in line of sight from hers. Maybe the fourth time will be the charm.
second edit
back at the Rosewater Foundation
"Hello thanks for calling hot party girls for you ABSOLUTELY FREE
Wild Hotty Beach Babes Party Video. May I have your credit card number please. Somewhere in the course of our conversation he manages to tell me that his teen age son was killed in a car wreck but he got to be there as two beautiful angels carried him off to heaven.
third edit 060305
These cyber dates don’t mean much to me anymore
I get this neighbor the white witch Glynda, realist that I am my eyes go reconnoitering for what is pleasing to the heart, so there a woman who lives close by, She has started looking disappointed lately when we run into each other, I don’t stop and flirt with her anymore. She is a good neighbor; her little shack looks like Oz. It is in Technicolor with plants and flowers against the drab beige of the shacks. First time I saw it I thought Glynda must live there. I have dropped a few double entrees and she laughs then starts talking about her first two ex-husbands. I always say, “You don’t want to marry me.” After I say that she loses interest, her mind wanders to mother in laws
I guess I better start wearing my short shorts again, start using that exercise machine she likes to watch me work out on. Maybe the fourth time will be the charm.
Edit six
Last edit, slow day at Rosewater, stealing a few minutes from work, not to bite the hand that feeds me but I do nibble at it affectionately some times this bit added to keep integrity of the voice.
You might ask how can a blind man’s eyes go reconnoitering for what is pleasing to the heart. It is the sound of perfect kindness Re: Love and The Goddess, Joe Campbell Bill Moyers. The Power of Myth. I liked the part about how truelove is born, true love is perfect kindness the heart and the eyes in accord. $17 but I am going to have to spring for it. Based on the show they did on Pub TV
I got some back roads I want to wander,. These long good byes are boring.
drop me a line sometime.
just a pal to pitch too.
Edit Eight
for the date 040605
I been getting my hair cut every couple of months by the woman next door. My other neighbor neighbo,
he of the abdominal scar, (Glynda has us both walking around half naked) my neighbor of the 9 am blue bus of the Guadelupe health services, the neighbor of the worrisome blood work, he told me that he got a hair cut from Glynda,
so I asked her, turns out not only is she a
massage therapist, she also has a license to cut hair, so She gave me a hiar cut last week. (finally got the last bit of super glue cut out of it). I think I not only got a hair cut, seems as if there was a message in their somewhere. Seems like I am always saying excuse me and tucking in my elbows, or moving my hands. My new black box high tech glasses are coming tomorrow, I will be checking into the cottage for a couple months, this is were they will drill the hole in my cro-magnun skull and hard wire the “tiger eye” to my brain.
Possible post for edit nine date.
Double-minded woman, I think I am going to have to get a new barber; the one that I got now wants to sit in my lap while she cuts my hair. Then she tells me about a three-year-old girl that was raped. I will not fuk with a stupid woman. One that is working out of a shallow consciousness, I need a presence. Just can’t fake it anymore. The red head built like the red brick shit house, it was an act of kindess, (long good bye) she smelled worse then a shit house. I suppose she felt so dirty and betrayed (theomachy) for what ever reason, I assume it was because her husband/soul-mate had been unfaithful, but human behavior is over determined, so for what ever reason her hygiene was poor. I said wait a minute, I forgot something, I suppose she thought I meant Trojans, but I had those. I had a scheme to collect my semen and take it over to
JHU med school and get a sperm count. Just to see if I was sterile after my encounter with spider-love. No I went out and bought a douche kit.
Then we had a lovely shower together.
edit of edit nine?
I don't think any of the women I have known have been stupid. Certainly not spiderwoman, her only dumb mistake was trusting me. My double mind was in
do it to her not
do it with her mode, but what did I ever do that was worth loving her?
So involved in my own supercharged orgasm I forgot what was on the end of my dorque. rhymes with torque.
speaking of dictionary quotes what ever happened to Novalark?
christ I hope this will be my last edit here,
but is this the way I sound?
like some cowboy lookin' to screw ms kitty with his boots still on.
The truth is I miss the companionship more than the sex.
so that is why I keep posting here. I think I am finally overcoming that shyness of mine about sex. So shy you might say I am autistic with women.
don't mean nothing just pitching to a pal.
Dream Time:
Elephant boy sleeps on a bed of hay bales, elephant cows waltz in his dreams
also a baby, another universe, alternative state where there is no war, and babies are not born to suffer and die on the very same day they are born. It must have been their bad karma.
too serious, I just started out to have some fun and now look at me.
Hester thank you for kick starting me on this one. I read the Osho Tarot cards, I got no complaint about my karma, I
"you always get what is coming you never have to ask"-jitterbug. Don't think I am in pain, to write is bliss for me, this ain't no plea for a pity fuck, if it is I better stop writting because I can not convey in words what I am feeling. I think about my life and more and more, as I grow older and older, I can Identify with the blind Oedipus at Colunus, "all is well"
Done, finished, fini, that is it.
I suppose for a guy who has not been close to a woman in longer than most of the people who post here have been a live ( I have not checked lately, but at last count I am the second oldest fossil posting here) well I ain't bitching about my sexual karma, just trying to write it off because I am too old to deal with it in any other way, well for and useless man like me it pisses me off to read about a guy waxing eloquent about his erection (nothing wrong with that) but then talk about pure love and sex don't mean nothing fuckit here the post now leave me alone. I am just a bitter old man with forks in my belly
sorry doreen now you see why
but that was not the one
this was the one I think you meant
think I am going to take your advice little sister. Going to go cruising for Quaker babes. Head to a Meeting and see if any one takes a fancy to me. Because I ain't living long like this. I think what first attracted me was the women. Those calm steady looks right into my eyes. Feels kind of creepy though, like hey I ain't looking for a wife, just trying to get laid. And believe me, you would not want to marry me anyway. You would spend the next twenty years of your life trying to straighten out your credit.
Speaking about ulterior motives I know this christian man who is on his third sick wife. He meets them at church. He is very compassionate and he has accumulated a lot of real estate, cars, grand pianos and money. Cause Jesus wants you to be rich.
Speaking of Jesus I love that country song the Stones did, The Girl With The Far Away Eyes. Because I am down on my luck and I can't harmonize. I have found it is probably best not to say "Thank You Jesus" when you are having an orgasm, especially when having it with a nice Jewish girl. I couldn't help myself, it had been three years between the Big O's and she had far away eyes.
Speaking of attractive women those litkickettes were the most beautiful women I have ever met. Even if I was flamed by every one of them or so it seemed.
G-d knows I had it coming.
I got kicked off noah’s ark
I turn my cheek to unkind remarks
There was two of everything
But one of me
And when the rains came tumbling down
I held my breath and I stood my ground
And I watched that ship go sailing
Out to sea.
JP Sweet Revenge
Unedited
I suppose I should have laid this out better in my mind. I been thinking about an Episode of Fresh Air I heard today. That really interesting show on NPR. It was about a new Movie called Mysterious Skin. About two boys who are molested by the same man. And how differently they grew up. Old trucking has got it bad. When he first started posting to litkicks it was to the Summer of Love board. He had this absurd idea for a romance between Sal Paradise and Esther Greenwood. How differently her life would have been if she had throw in with the bohemian women at Smith. Well to tell you the truth I wasn't expecting any replies to this post. But thanks.
Now trucker I ain't saying you shoudn't be greasing your fith wheel but make dam sure you got your gloves on when you are doing it. Don't want to go through that spider love trip again do ya?
Arcadia I wasn't expecting any comments. Yours are welcome. Maybe it will be less mysterious as I go along. I don't seem to value this body of mine much anymore.. It is a temple they tell me, other then sitting here doing this compulsive scribbling of mine I don't seem to get much bliss from it. I have just accumulated a lot of sexual karma over the past twenty five years. Trying to write it off. Much pre-occupied with death, thanatos has vanquished Eros.
Going to try my hand at erotic, romantic, but very rusty after twenty five years of living like a celibate monk. I remember a line from Moveable Feast where he said one writes best when they are in love. This is about sexual healing or in my case sexual maturity. It is a mystery, not sure if luck has anything to do with it. I used to think I had a choice in who I was going to love. Maybe that is what you mean by luck. I am either searching for love or a good death, Quakers a name for The Religious Society of Friends I guess you don't have none down there. I would like to see what arrangements I could make to take care of my final arrangements, my final expensives. At my age one must start preparing for that. I just hate to stick my family with the expenses and macabre details. Yeah I got the hots for Quaker babes the way I used to lust after Jewesses.
I been saying for a couple of years I got to get to a Meeting we shall see. The last time I met a woman who adored me, she said that I adore you, but I didn't like the way she was built I stood her up on a friday night at the Shul. I don't deserve another chance.
Or maybe I just didn't think I still could. A useless feeling, but no reason to commit suicide by sucrose and nicotine. I tell you I am looking for a Presence a real live thinking feeling woman, not some cybersex chat, been there done that one night on litkicks when Illuminara said does anyone one want to fuck me. My coy mistress. I miss the hell out of her diamond mind. I saw her post to litchicks back in January, good to know she is still kicking.
I don't post much to creative. I was just going to lavel this text box #1252. But this is all about death and sex. So I figured I would just put it out there. Be arty farty about it.
to be continued, maybe
I just can't stand success. This day started at four am, any day you have to go around with a pocket full of quaters for phone calls, pick up someone being released from jail, and help your brother in law pick up his equipment from a construckion site, smoke a number and two packs of cigarettes. I was going to get a nap before I go to work at one am. Death, death death, what is my fucking hurry. Life is sweet, I am living on easy street. The jets from the airforce base, the train horns every other hour, the sirens from the fire department, rescue squad and cop shop don't bother me at all anymore. This is going to be my summer of love, just me, the live oak trees, and some flowers.
REELIN' IN THE YEARS
Your everlasting summer
You can see it fading fast
So you grab a piece of something
That you think is gonna last
You wouldn't know a diamond
If you held it in your hand
The things you think are precious
I can't understand
Don't waste your time replying
just scrolling my own truth here
looking at what is not on the end of my dork
why I am so obsessed with death
why do I think getting laid would make a difference in my life
nothing but a wad of self pity
I got it so good, why do neglect this G-d given body of mine
do I think another persons touch would make a difference
trying to get back to a feeling of being alive
a dialogue of the skin
Trying to remember what I have learned about women and sex. I think it has something to do with children, sometimes. That is why birth control is so threatening to family values. The morning after or so called abortion pill more so. How you going to keep her in line if she gets to choose her own reproductive destiny. How you going to get those security mom's to vote for another dirty little war.
Truck stop movie: An old-fashioned mom and pop truck stop. , A city unto itself. Murders, suicides, dope deals, commercial sex. A motel, restaurant, garage, connivance stores, a trucker could stay there a week in comfort and be treated kindly. For us gypsy truckers it was home. The really homeless wanderers drifted through, sleeping in the TV lounge. One guy who worked there was a Nazi wannabe, he was always doodling swastikas on the counter tops and walls. He would do his best to torment them. When he wasn’t goose-stepping down the halls. He bought himself a copy of Mein Kampf he loved my little joke about the Jew and the Pizza. It did my heart good to see him laugh. He had fathered three children or was it four. The other women would warn every new teen-age waitress. Stay away watch out, he is Johnny one time. But he had his eye on mother to be number four and she knew better than those old women (some of them were even thirty years old or more) A good way to get your man. Get pregnant. It can work. Then the father does the honorable thing and marries you.
He did the honorable thing He married her but then resented the child, feels trapped. Poor kid, every night his dad would come home from work and would not touch him. Sometimes I put the kid in his father’s arms. But he always had an excuse to push the kid away. I got fiberglass on my clothes or some other reason to reject the boy. The mother caught up in her worst teen-age feminist nightmare. To be under some man’s thumb. But she was pushing thirty and her mother was pushing for a grand child.
If I was a truck driver and you was a lady, would you marry me anyway, would you have my baby
To be continued maybe.
doreen I don't know where this should go. The more I scroll it, the less I know what it is.
think I know why I decided to post this on creative. It is a work a fiction. I suupose re-incarnation may be true, but on this trip I am a loner. To let you in a litttle secrete. I ain't really looking for her anymore. RIght now I am listening to the voice of a young woman who would still be alive right now if her mother had not left the east coast just to get away from me. I will wanderer around to that story of spider love, acid, adultry and abortion. So much of it is vanity, to face the truth of the man I was. COmpletly double minded with women. I got the worst kind of karma with women. Jitterbug wrote a song with the lines, "you never have to ask, you always gets whats coming" You are very kind, thank you. Just that anyone is reading this counts for a hundred percent of what I am searching for. I like those quaker graveyards, very un assuming. But most of all I would like a burial at sea. Macabre mood. It will pass.
I listen to Sylvia Plath (mourning and melancholia) and St Anne of Sexton, posthumously raped by her shrink, or so it seems to me.
"Lies all Lies
I am a truck"
Vive La Difference
"And unlike man whose numbers matter for the acceptance of prayer, women have a straight one-to-one relationship with God. It takes a minimum of ten men to make a minyan (the quorum needed for greater prayer acceptance), but the Talmud says that
"the prayer of women and their tears ascend straight up to the Holy One." Women are given the task - arguably the most important - to allow relationships to take place, deep relationships which are never communal, which are exquisitely specific and carry enormous spiritual weight."
http://www.olam.org/treasure.php?issue=1&id=60
You are right I sure got some things to work out. I have been color blind with women Kind of like the time I gave a union brother a ride home one nigh. I wasn't thinking about he was black and I was almost white. I wound up getting hurt bad as I left the ghetto. Toaly racial. Women were like those cartoons by R Crumb. The little vaginas with legs. I got to keep the hope up that true love still exists as a possibility for me. But as my Old Uncle Abe use to tell me "live in hope and die in despar. As far as women are concerned I choose to live in despair and die and hope.
If I had any sense at all I would have realized that the abortion was the end of our rommance. Her perfect lover turned out to be a fool. I tried to hold on she wanted to move on. I made her life miserable with my sexual immaturity, finally she just stuck out her thumb and went hitch hiking across the country. A middle age Jewish woman with two children. Finally she settled out in the far west. Her daughter was killed in a car accident on a mountain pass. I ask myself if I had not been such a putz would she have been there? Stupid to think like that, I know. But I do.
Doreen I think it is shit. the fictional possibilities is what I am shooting for. Like Sal Paradise and Esther Greenwood taking off into the wild new york night. I can't tell you how much I resented Ram Das, he was a real hero to her back in the seventies when everyone I knew was reading Be Here Now. He talked about being sexually continent. She thought that mean celibate, so did I. Then he wrote that article about getting egg in his beard. A housewife in brooklyn had him howling at the moon.
My point is this, there was a line in that book that I have been chewing on for thirty years. something about give it up, give up the desire, and you will have it all.
So on the one hand I lay down and die, on the other there is a determined woman out there, maybe at a Quaker meeting who is goiing to hunt me down and fu*k my brains out.
"And unlike man whose numbers matter for the acceptance of prayer, women have a straight one-to-one relationship with God. It takes a minimum of ten men to make a minyan (the quorum needed for greater prayer acceptance), but the Talmud says that
"the prayer of women and their tears ascend straight up to the Holy One." Women are given the task - arguably the most important - to allow relationships to take place, deep relationships which are never communal, which are exquisitely specific and carry enormous spiritual weight."
http://www.olam.org/treasure.php?issue=1&id=60
You are right I sure got some things to work out. I have been color blind with women Kind of like the time I gave a union brother a ride home one night. I wasn't thinking about he was black and I was almost white. I wound up getting hurt bad as I left the ghetto. Toaly racial. Women were like those cartoons by R Crumb. The little vaginas with legs. I got to keep the hope up that true love still exists as a possibility for me. But as my Old Uncle Abe use to tell me "live in hope and die in despar. As far as women are concerned I choose to live in despair and die in hope.
If I had any sense at all I would have realized that the abortion was the end of our rommance. Her perfect lover turned out to be a fool. I tried to hold on she wanted to move on. I made her life miserable with my sexual immaturity, finally she just stuck out her thumb and went hitch hiking across the country. A middle age Jewish woman with two children. Finally she settled out in the far west. Her daughter was killed in a car accident on a mountain pass. I ask myself if I had not been such a putz would she have been there? Stupid to think like that, I know. But I do.
Doreen I think it is shit. the fictional possibilities is what I am shooting for. Like Sal Paradise and Esther Greenwood taking off into the wild new york night. I can't tell you how much I resented Ram Das, he was a real hero to her back in the seventies when everyone I knew was reading Be Here Now. He talked about being sexually continent. She thought that mean celibate, so did I. Then he wrote that article about getting egg in his beard. A housewife in brooklyn had him howling at the moon.
My point is this, there was a line in that book that I have been chewing on for thirty years. something about give it up, give up the desire, and you will have it all.
So on the one hand I lay down and die, on the other there is a determined woman out there, maybe at a Quaker meeting who is goiing to hunt me down and fuck my brains out.
Yes you are right, if only for a moment. I always hear so much about that biological clock of women. I am pretty sure men have one too.Stupid things people say. I remember saying something really stupid to my last vagina (sorry if am being offensive I am going for that His last Duchess kind of creepy sound because that is the way I used to be with women) As if she did not know I told her that women are born with only so many Oocytes (sp?) the cells that go on to form ovum. While men create sperm all there lives. I think I was unconsciouly making a point about the superiority of men. Like my brother in law who has told me and his son a million times in front of his mother(my sister) that women are subject to more shark attacks then men because of blood. I don't know if that is true but the point is many men have to think up reasons why they are superior to women. We walk around like toddlers with our diapers full of shit demanding attention.
Well anyway after I told my lover about the only so many eggs thing she said. "I wish I had used up all my eggs all ready." Meaning I think that she was tired of the monthly cycle all ready. She was in her fifties and had no remorse about menopause. Kind of looking forward to it cheerfully. Like simplifying her life.
Feel a rocking deck beneath my feet. But I though as long as I am floating to the top again I might as well kick my story or whatever this is, kick it along some more.
______________________________________________
un edited
going to fix it up some. but I just need to let it rip for now.
as long this dam mess is still at the top of the board I figured it
wouldn't hurt to add some more.
this popped into mind during the jam last night.
Her youngest daughter, the one that is alive and well out west, still, , the one that was not killed on San Marcos Pass, the one who would never dream of coming back east to look for me. The smart one.
The house painter who had his name changed to Jesus Christ Amazing. Disciples wandered the highways in the early eighties, wearing army blanket poncho's When I past exit thirty eight in phar left, there was this beautiful woman sitting by the side of the road wrapped in her army blanket, no thumb out, just sitting there waiting for a ride. A divinely appointed ride. My partner saw her too, "look at that" when he saw her, I just kept on trucking. I don't think we were the ones she was waiting for
But the thoughts running head of me. Bits and pieces of a story, fading fast probably too late, but I am trying to string the beads together, maybe my final post will tie it all together.
THis house painter (not a carpenter this time) for some reason when she left on her heijira from me, she wound up part of his group. he sent his believers out onto the highways like bread on the water.
I could not stop in the desert to pick her up, but later coming down from dallas I picked up three of them around waco, coming through the truck stop in Budda dam I got some looks from the drivers, just me and my three long haired friends of Jesus Christ Almighty, the house painter from LA.
?, that is what I thought, it made me smile, trying to figure out how you came up with 70 percent chance. I been happier since I stopped posting here so much. aka stilltrucking/tinkerjack
so burned out I have started to defragement. stiltrucking/thunder chicken/tinkerjack/zero hero/homeboy/skipjack/ and a couple of dozen I forgot.
Happy autumn see you at the studio eigtht this winter, I hope.
adios for now
I suppose I should just be more careful about what I write. At least this time I saved the stuff I deleted.
