finding the cheer
blue
once was a detergent
also the precursor of punk rock
"momma & poppa told me I gotta earn
a dollar, if i wanna get the car and go
ridin' next sunday."
Mile Marker Zion
Moderator: the mingo
There is evidence that the practice known as "dogging" has spread to Greenland.
I ran across a word this morning - "paleolibertarian". I had to look it up. I'm sorry I did.
I also just heard while passing an in-progress conversation "and that's it, here comes 23 armies."
The older you get the longer your nose hair grows. Wisdom is known by the length of its nose hairs.
Intuitive action on the chess board leads many times more often to disaster than victory. I end up indulging in it usually out of a sense of desperation when faced with impending defeat. But sometimes there is a checkmate, by force, at the end of it all. When that happens it's better than
I ran across a word this morning - "paleolibertarian". I had to look it up. I'm sorry I did.
I also just heard while passing an in-progress conversation "and that's it, here comes 23 armies."
The older you get the longer your nose hair grows. Wisdom is known by the length of its nose hairs.
Intuitive action on the chess board leads many times more often to disaster than victory. I end up indulging in it usually out of a sense of desperation when faced with impending defeat. But sometimes there is a checkmate, by force, at the end of it all. When that happens it's better than
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
Remembering the women I have known all I can mention is that the sex came cloaked in love and drove us crazy. Every time.
My cousin lives in a trailer in the woods. Almost 40 years ago he met a girl & the sex came cloaked in love. It drove them crazy. So they got married. They had kids. Some of the kids are still living with them. The girl he met is still his wife & still with him though much bigger than she used to be. He has a job with the city. He has a pickup truck. He has a moped. He has a scooter. The scooter came cloaked in love. He rides the scooter all over the place. He rides the scooter alot. He turns the key & twists the throttle & away he goes. It drives him crazy.
The existential risk we all face was not caused by our activities yet simultaenously there are no accidents where fate is involved ...
To wit : Jose rode his truck into the desert
the desert did not care
but opened its arms to receive him
My cousin lives in a trailer in the woods. Almost 40 years ago he met a girl & the sex came cloaked in love. It drove them crazy. So they got married. They had kids. Some of the kids are still living with them. The girl he met is still his wife & still with him though much bigger than she used to be. He has a job with the city. He has a pickup truck. He has a moped. He has a scooter. The scooter came cloaked in love. He rides the scooter all over the place. He rides the scooter alot. He turns the key & twists the throttle & away he goes. It drives him crazy.
The existential risk we all face was not caused by our activities yet simultaenously there are no accidents where fate is involved ...
To wit : Jose rode his truck into the desert
the desert did not care
but opened its arms to receive him
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
Because of the automobile bullfrog afterlife has become two dimensional. They have to be flat to get in.
I'm a practicing self-indulgent yet hoping to avoid evil.
Can I sever all this fantasizing from my life?
Total brain removal is indicated. And that's just the first step because no one walks away from the honey jar on their own.
What spilled sugar is to the ant who discovers it so is human life to those who live it.
Everyone deserves orgasms. As many as possible. Any math freak will tell you numbers are everything. But according to the value freaks quality is to be preferred over quantity. Which applies if your talking about cans of beans vs. hunger. But the subject is orgasms and when it comes to orgasms every one of them is the best.
The octopus don't have no feet
he don't put his money in a bank
he trusts to himself
the best that needs to be done
Sometimes words look just like a barb wire fence bordering an old Indian trail that runs along a river. When I was a kid two old women lived there. Their food came from the gov't but they never wanted to meet the president of America. I ate their cookies & listened to their stories of babies born & people dying and what things were in 1922.
I saw a big whitetail buck in their field once. It was early evening. The sun was going down & shining on him. He gave me his antlers.
I still have them. I take them out sometimes and click them together. Its a hard clean unambiguous sound.
I'm a practicing self-indulgent yet hoping to avoid evil.
Can I sever all this fantasizing from my life?
Total brain removal is indicated. And that's just the first step because no one walks away from the honey jar on their own.
What spilled sugar is to the ant who discovers it so is human life to those who live it.
Everyone deserves orgasms. As many as possible. Any math freak will tell you numbers are everything. But according to the value freaks quality is to be preferred over quantity. Which applies if your talking about cans of beans vs. hunger. But the subject is orgasms and when it comes to orgasms every one of them is the best.
The octopus don't have no feet
he don't put his money in a bank
he trusts to himself
the best that needs to be done
Sometimes words look just like a barb wire fence bordering an old Indian trail that runs along a river. When I was a kid two old women lived there. Their food came from the gov't but they never wanted to meet the president of America. I ate their cookies & listened to their stories of babies born & people dying and what things were in 1922.
I saw a big whitetail buck in their field once. It was early evening. The sun was going down & shining on him. He gave me his antlers.
I still have them. I take them out sometimes and click them together. Its a hard clean unambiguous sound.
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
I thought I was gonna put my two cents in over on the thread entitled "I hate this" going on in General discussion. But I changed my mind I guess. I don't want to talk about guns but about an anniversary because today is an anniversary. Thirty eight years ago on this date there was a church on a corner & a young woman in a white gown & a young man in Navy dress blues. There was an "I do" & an "I do" spoken in the presence of God & a crowd of witnesses. Then there was a party. And a cake. And a dance. A throwing of a bouquet. Drinks all around and plenty of food. Later the young woman & the young man slipped away in a borrowed car & headed for the mountains...
Tonight is the 38th anniversary of that night. Tonight there is no church on a corner. No young woman in white. No young man in Navy dress blues. No "I do's". No crowd of witnesses. No party. No cake. No dancing. No throwing of a bouquet. No drinks. No food. No slipping away to the mountains...
I drove by that church tonight on the way home from work. It is a home for the elderly now and for those who have no place else to go.
I once thought there would always be places to go. I never imagined that there would be an end to them too. I never imagined a life without my bride but I've lived exactly that life for the last forty years. All of it the presence of God.
I was born foolish.
I have lived foolish.
I will die foolish.
Yet my Redeemer lives and I know that when I see Him as He has always seen me then I will know that the times of foolishness have an end also for He it is who promised when He was here on earth that they will never be called to remembrance ever again.
And that will be a blessing.
Tonight is the 38th anniversary of that night. Tonight there is no church on a corner. No young woman in white. No young man in Navy dress blues. No "I do's". No crowd of witnesses. No party. No cake. No dancing. No throwing of a bouquet. No drinks. No food. No slipping away to the mountains...
I drove by that church tonight on the way home from work. It is a home for the elderly now and for those who have no place else to go.
I once thought there would always be places to go. I never imagined that there would be an end to them too. I never imagined a life without my bride but I've lived exactly that life for the last forty years. All of it the presence of God.
I was born foolish.
I have lived foolish.
I will die foolish.
Yet my Redeemer lives and I know that when I see Him as He has always seen me then I will know that the times of foolishness have an end also for He it is who promised when He was here on earth that they will never be called to remembrance ever again.
And that will be a blessing.
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
Humble breakfast. English muffin, butter, peanut butter, maybe grape jell. I'm glad I'm not a crow. I know what his breakfast is most liable to be.
Artistry. Now there's a word. Craft. There's another word. If you should meet either of these creatures on the road kill them without a moment's hesitation. Leave not even a single morsel for the crows to find. This is what I was told. I had to kill the teller. Right off the bat. Pissed me off the stupid bastard making me have to kill something just to get the day off the ground. I wern't bothering anyone. Numskull won't be causing anyone else any distress. I sorted it out for him right then & there. It's the epitome of foolishness to piss an American off before he or she has had breakfast. It's absolutely lethal to do it before they have had their coffee. These enlightenists tend to be victims of their own notions. They are great chatterboxes & troublemakers. Minute they display either of these attitudes I take 'em out. Nothing else to be done. You deal with situations one by one & move on. Clean & with no stink left over.
Doing my janitorial duties last night at work. Found a half bag of coffee in a foil pouch in the trash. Hmmm. I didn't know if it was any good. I took it outta the trash brought it home and filled the coffeemaker with it. It's good. Ya know, if there comes an apocalypse, whether I want to or not I will probably survive because among my many mottos there is one that goes "Never horse a look gift in the eye". I think I probably killed who ever it was that told me that but I don't remember also.
Right ?
Anyways, I gotta go now to take pictures of the light. I do that in the morning sometimes. Didn't do it yesterday. Had to go into town for smokes. Then stopped for a cinnamon roll.
A frosted one. O God. Almost as high in sensual (o my mouth!) content as, well, you know.
Gotta go go go. You must be swifty, sexy, & spot on when playing to capture the moments of light.
Artistry. Now there's a word. Craft. There's another word. If you should meet either of these creatures on the road kill them without a moment's hesitation. Leave not even a single morsel for the crows to find. This is what I was told. I had to kill the teller. Right off the bat. Pissed me off the stupid bastard making me have to kill something just to get the day off the ground. I wern't bothering anyone. Numskull won't be causing anyone else any distress. I sorted it out for him right then & there. It's the epitome of foolishness to piss an American off before he or she has had breakfast. It's absolutely lethal to do it before they have had their coffee. These enlightenists tend to be victims of their own notions. They are great chatterboxes & troublemakers. Minute they display either of these attitudes I take 'em out. Nothing else to be done. You deal with situations one by one & move on. Clean & with no stink left over.
Doing my janitorial duties last night at work. Found a half bag of coffee in a foil pouch in the trash. Hmmm. I didn't know if it was any good. I took it outta the trash brought it home and filled the coffeemaker with it. It's good. Ya know, if there comes an apocalypse, whether I want to or not I will probably survive because among my many mottos there is one that goes "Never horse a look gift in the eye". I think I probably killed who ever it was that told me that but I don't remember also.
Right ?
Anyways, I gotta go now to take pictures of the light. I do that in the morning sometimes. Didn't do it yesterday. Had to go into town for smokes. Then stopped for a cinnamon roll.
A frosted one. O God. Almost as high in sensual (o my mouth!) content as, well, you know.
Gotta go go go. You must be swifty, sexy, & spot on when playing to capture the moments of light.
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
British Columbia's most valuable invertebrate is the clam. I arrived at this singular fact by putting in a search for BC clams. The ones in the B.C. comic strip. It's dangerous to put yourself in connection with the internet before your coffee kicks in in the morning.
Sometimes items show up. They land in your lap from nowhere. It happened to me yesterday with two physical objects from the lakeshore. A piece of driftwood shaped like a duck's head and a small stone in the shape of a boot. Flowers from the unknown arriving along unseen paths.
A woman in a bath towel just walked across my room & said "Are you going to make me toast before I have to go to work?"
Been listening to all the horseshit & hoopla about health care. I can tell from the noise level that money & powerful interests are involved so I know that not one word of truth is being spoken. Not one word.
The birds around here are damn quiet this morning. Usually they are yammering up a storm by this time. Not this morning. Nada. Maybe they all got computers overnight and at this very moment are busy emailing relatives in Brazil or the Canadian tundra.
I refined my search parameters for B.C. using "Clams-BC comic strip". Got a whole bunch of returns with clams all over them. CLAMS GOT LEGS! Now I'm getting somewhere. Thank you, Coffee!
("Pardon me, Mister, but is this the road to Zion?" "Yes it is, Pilgrim. Just keep going straight on")
Sometimes items show up. They land in your lap from nowhere. It happened to me yesterday with two physical objects from the lakeshore. A piece of driftwood shaped like a duck's head and a small stone in the shape of a boot. Flowers from the unknown arriving along unseen paths.
A woman in a bath towel just walked across my room & said "Are you going to make me toast before I have to go to work?"
Been listening to all the horseshit & hoopla about health care. I can tell from the noise level that money & powerful interests are involved so I know that not one word of truth is being spoken. Not one word.
The birds around here are damn quiet this morning. Usually they are yammering up a storm by this time. Not this morning. Nada. Maybe they all got computers overnight and at this very moment are busy emailing relatives in Brazil or the Canadian tundra.
I refined my search parameters for B.C. using "Clams-BC comic strip". Got a whole bunch of returns with clams all over them. CLAMS GOT LEGS! Now I'm getting somewhere. Thank you, Coffee!
("Pardon me, Mister, but is this the road to Zion?" "Yes it is, Pilgrim. Just keep going straight on")
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
XANADU PEQUOD !!! I heard this exclamation last night over a chessboard. It was uttered with both volume & vehemence. It is not the first time I have heard this type of thing around a chess game. It is a magical language. A language of invocation. Chess will do things to you. Three moves into the game & you start calling on the gods.
My second son came back from three days in the mountains last night. No beard. No Indian wife. No furs to trade. I thought to myself "Why did he go?"
My second son, through no act of his own, has two different sets of "half - brothers". One set because of the same father. The other set because of the same mother. Sex is weird. Sex is really really weird. And it results only in more weirdness.
Two days ago a woman used the term "experimental poetry" in my presence. Should have heard her talk! I listened because it was fun to do so but in all her words & revelations I couldn't find a hook to hang my hat on. Now as I'm back to digging in the dirt I can't remember much of what she said just that her passion shone thru her words & was shining lighthouse like all up & down the line. If she could see me now back to digging away... Sometimes I use a shovel. Sometimes just my bare hands. One time I decided to see if I could root. I dug into the earth with my fingers and laid down. It was dusk. I was a couple hundred miles south of an imaginary line called the arctic circle. What happened was I awoke the next morning covered in dew. And I was hungry so I pulled my roots from the earth & walked back to my car. Then I wrapped my roots around the steering wheel and drove home. Sunlight is stimulative, may even give a plant a boner but I've found that all by itself it has no taste. Photosynthesis may be cool but there's nothing like bacon & eggs & hashbrowns when the morning comes 'round. Then a good belch followed by a good fart afterwards.
The migrant workers next door brought a rooster with them this year to remind them of home. Every morning the bird calls out and the workers rise to head for the tractors and the fields. Their grind may not be easy out there in the sun & rain but their lives are certainly simpler than mine. Or maybe just cleaner.
I know just enough at my age to envy them.
My second son came back from three days in the mountains last night. No beard. No Indian wife. No furs to trade. I thought to myself "Why did he go?"
My second son, through no act of his own, has two different sets of "half - brothers". One set because of the same father. The other set because of the same mother. Sex is weird. Sex is really really weird. And it results only in more weirdness.
Two days ago a woman used the term "experimental poetry" in my presence. Should have heard her talk! I listened because it was fun to do so but in all her words & revelations I couldn't find a hook to hang my hat on. Now as I'm back to digging in the dirt I can't remember much of what she said just that her passion shone thru her words & was shining lighthouse like all up & down the line. If she could see me now back to digging away... Sometimes I use a shovel. Sometimes just my bare hands. One time I decided to see if I could root. I dug into the earth with my fingers and laid down. It was dusk. I was a couple hundred miles south of an imaginary line called the arctic circle. What happened was I awoke the next morning covered in dew. And I was hungry so I pulled my roots from the earth & walked back to my car. Then I wrapped my roots around the steering wheel and drove home. Sunlight is stimulative, may even give a plant a boner but I've found that all by itself it has no taste. Photosynthesis may be cool but there's nothing like bacon & eggs & hashbrowns when the morning comes 'round. Then a good belch followed by a good fart afterwards.
The migrant workers next door brought a rooster with them this year to remind them of home. Every morning the bird calls out and the workers rise to head for the tractors and the fields. Their grind may not be easy out there in the sun & rain but their lives are certainly simpler than mine. Or maybe just cleaner.
I know just enough at my age to envy them.
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
I got up this morning
and couldn't play chess
I got up this morning & couldn't write
so I looked up the word zoid on google to amuse myself
and found that the Japanese had invented a toy
& called it a Zoid.
Of course.
August 28 2009
6:28 AM -
"Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win." Sun - Tzu. Maybe this will help my chess game. Maybe not. However much may be said about profiting from what others have discovered there is a pathetic element involved in reading the words of dead men.
My woman says to me. "O quit whining, will ya?"
Whining? I answer, Me?
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
when the wind blows
the trees next to the house
scratch across the window screens
with a sound like a zipper going up and down
made me think of Ono No Komachi
even though there was not a single zipper anywhere
in all the islands of Japan
during her lifetime
the trees next to the house
scratch across the window screens
with a sound like a zipper going up and down
made me think of Ono No Komachi
even though there was not a single zipper anywhere
in all the islands of Japan
during her lifetime
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
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