Matthew 19:16 (beating atem barrage)

Thinking outside the box.
Do outside the box,
but don't forget the bloodguilt
      >http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloodguilt_in_the_Hebrew_Bible
as we EVA wander
      >http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extra-vehicular_activity
increasingly in context
untenable. Unreachable?
A pretext since inception
corrupted with frailty,
an unmoored self
      >http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mooring
Defense.

New Year

So it begins.

The last Tail was wyrd.
What will this Beginning bring?

I spend it with family
Asking what is home.
My maudlin answer replies  
Home is where the heart is.
Perplexed, I wonder where drifting hearts
go. Do they endup as driftwood
caught in time's eddy?
Lost in space time, never to find
Home. Will I turn
the tale to find an ancient
Will Robinson smiling sardonically?
It is late.
The Year starts.
The current is swift,
And carries my driftwood on.
So it begins again.

Clouds race by today offering glimpses of the sun. I grab myself but cannot hold, so instead I catch fleeing shadows across the wall. Glimmer, shimmer, shatter, ratter, batter, base, basalt, constant.

Year's End (revised 1)

The year's ends is with me tonight
snuggling close in Christmas white.
Frail arms hug keeps me warm
As we brave our live last winter's storm.
She quietly holds me till the morning brings dawn unfurls
A freshly painted face with red kinky curlys hair rings.
Yet with each passing, I stay linger longer by her side
Preferring redolent embrace to the new years ride now fonder.

The year ends with me tonight
snuggling close in Christmas white.
Frail arms hug keeps me warm
as we live last winter's storm.
She holds me til dawn unfurls
a fresh face with red kinky curls.
Yet each passing, I stay longer
Redolent embrace now fonder.

night time writing

It's wet laundry;
blue jeans on an open hanger.
You know, the European kinda.
Americans roast their chestnut clothes;
No need to dry on beef jerked racks.
Tumble dry is an American way.
Yet I thought for a Kierkegaard
moment that the way is the Way,
or was it thru Jesus?
Is it Manifested or am
I destined to love the loonies.
In their Dusty overall,
westward caravanning snails
have no Wrath as singular as
a grape in the
Nut House. U love Me.
I love U.

Lordy lordy lordy

One fine morning the sun will rise, and the catfish jumps.
I look in the eye but hear only the wind, hollow through my earwax.

Soft, tired and wary, I wonder if it can compose such crap as I;
Strings of electric word, corpses hanging across the river,
into the Heart of Cambodia.

It's all junk, spunk and spam;
It all stinks like morning coffee,
sleeved but not filtered.
Fried spam tastes like gibberish & Jabberwocky.

Good morning Vietnam. I love our mistakes as much as spam.
I'll have the spam, spam, spam, spam spam with spam.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.

slight detour...

OK. no time to continue my tale. SanFern Valley must wait.

But a friend was reading some of her poems so I decided to write another of my ditty here.

Of course what prompted me was this quote from my iGoogle page.
(from www.quotationspage.com)

A poet who reads his verse in public may have other nasty habits.
-Robert Heinlein

well I certainly have nasty habits so there's no shame for my public verse here. I won't comment on whether my friend has nasty habits too, but I don't think so.

dededi do da,
quite a nasty bruha
and a short sharp shock
didide da do
lovely lolita low
on bowed beer bock

I guess my imagery is shrouded in beer. What does it mean? I have no idea, but it sounds nice to me. And that's all that matters.

marathon next weekend

It is almost time.

The Frankfurt marathon is next week. I ran in the cold rain for about 1:30... ~8 miles.

Calf muscles are REALLY tight. I think its the cold. I can't get enough blood there. My knee caps hurt too. Again, probably the cold. I use to get the same pain after ice skating in shorts for couple of hours.

No Becky to run with in Mainz:( She's off cavorting in Firenzi, Italy)

I hope I can finish the race. If not, the its up to you Bz to finish the race solo!

It was nice to see Dave again. Another funny story. Dave and his forgotten luggage!!!

So there I was. Writing nothing. Leaving nothing.

Perhaps I can speak to you. Yeah, you. The young person who refuses to listen to their parents. In most cases, that's wise cuz, on average most parents SUCK.

But one good advice is, "try not to die prematurely".

Risky behavior include driving fast. Belonging to a gang. Being poor and Black.

I guess that last one you can't really help. Let me stack the decks against you, and when you fail, point my finger. See there is no hope. Might as well put them in a chain gang and get some useful work out of them. (them being the poor, and is still true that they are the darkies).

The demarcation line is so stark. Marginot Lines in our major US cities. There are no fortification, yet the divide is there, strictly separating the poor/blackies and richer/whitish.

Look at Philadelphia. Don't go west past 36th street. Look at Chicago. Look at Columbus Ohio. Look in New Jersey near Liberty airport. So much Liberty is amazing.

I can't tell you want to do. You already know. We're just too scared to do it.

The invisible hand of the market is great for distributing wealth and labor efficiently. Well... maybe. If you don't rig the system. Free trade, but let's subsidized and protect certain industries. And boy do we have enough money to subsidize.

Globalization was suppose to bring wealth to everyone. It hasn't. Why? They rigged the system. The cash flows to us the US. We use it not on social programs to improve the quality of life or even national defense. We use it to start a War of choice. The opportunity was there.

the waste stream is hidden but enormous. Polemicized me.

OK enough.

I ran because it was cold and raining but not too hard, just a bare drizzle. I got soaked anyways. I ran cold because the warmth is drizzling away barely old enough to melt a chestnut roasting in salvation of Christmas. My glasses beaded with rain and frosted with breath. I wanted to run faster but my quads warned with stiff lips.
Don't push it.
You are only a weak from the run.
I got tight. My calf stiffened anyways. The cold gets to me. Sometimes I shiver and pile the blankets on only to find I'm too hot. And sometimes I'm not evening running. I'm fighting. Moving, running, jumping, fighting, all from a non-declarative memory session somewhere off in a distance War and fragmented memories, mostly of airfields and army barracks. Here I am ridiculously running in a Hemingway rain, fishing for a marlin. And I'm not even a fisher of fish or rain or spirit or crumpets for tea. Run proper so that when I can't remember why I'm running, I'll still run straight.

getting along

and creepin along trying not to be creep by standin straight without being too straightlaced.
that's all anyone or I can straight faced fake. and wanting and wanted with bald lies.
cherrie cherub or was that chubby faced chubby. I can remember the difference, when I was younger or hungry and angry.

pickling in this brine will make me shine!

I'm still here...

pickling in this brine,
swirling around chaud
freddo malaise, what?
this general weakness

and anger, everywhere
outthere, inhere,
makes the spirit weak

Night again

It's nighttime.

"I'll be satisfied if I can just hold my ground"

I think that's Olivia Newton-John. I like her. Really. I do.
Had a crush for her since Xanadu & Grease.

I don't know. But the fear is inaction.
Just cause you don't know anything, shouldn't stop you from doing.
I hate writing like this. Pontificating. Pointilism. Abstraction.

I'm drifting again. Like the Clapton song. What's needed here is a link to the song. One of these days the information/thought/memory will be packaged better.

The density of information will increase. And so will the speed. Can't you just see it. There are your kid's just breezing thru these info-packets. I don't want to say "webpages" cuz it probably won't be. You stare/listen/immerse yourself in the same stream but its just noise. too much, too fast. too contextual. too subtle. too contextual fast.

Rockin Roll ain't noise pollution. Well, now we're older and the Next music will be noise for us. Electronica... just pop/squeaks... and noise. its not music. and maybe it ain't.

I like it though. The little that I've listen to. Course there's a lot of crap too. In the beginning everyone thinks they can do it. Just loop a four on the floor beat, and mix in some cool sound.

Listen kid... its crap. What you think is so cooool. crap. Get your head out of your ass and maybe you'll make some good music after all. different doesn't mean its good. that's what I'm lookin for. anything that's different AND good.

Hmmm... I'm a bit mean tonight. bitter perhaps.

it's dark outside, too cold
in here; is there a well lit place?
hardly.
muddled with murky mint,
dank and dripping meme.
hear it plop on the sink drain?
lanky mothers milk let down.
lap it up kid but don't get to cocky.

well crap...

Has it been this long since my last post? It has hasn't it.

Time keeps slipping away.
You run and you run to ketchup with the sun but its sinking.

Zoo station line again...

Maybe its unhealthy to stare at the big toe of Death too long. I was looking at pictures of my nieces. Wasn't it only yesterday that it was me in those pictures having fun and making funny faces.

And now my grandmother has been gone almost a decade.
And now my father turns seventy this year.
And now I turn thirty seven this week.

What to make of all this. Post-doc somewhere for a couple of years. then waht?
get a job. make enough money to die peacefully?

Getting caught in waves
Drinking brine beech beer
Wiping crest foam from lips
Swimming farther out a stout sea
Till toes touch a strata cooler
beneath tussling top.
Swimming out to just enough
Remembering of murky ocean depth.
Plumbing drunk, and forgotten surf.

My?! I'm old!

What's the phrase?
Turning around and you find yourself old. What's the Pink Floyd line?
You run and you run to catch up with the sun but its sinking. I turn thirty six soon. Could this be that midlife crisis.

Well... hopefully I'll live well past seventy. But still its within my nature to constantly reevaluate myself. I don't want to ossify but its so hard (no pun intended).

There are so many smart people out there. And so many uninformed.
Brash and shy. Strident and tactiturn... what is this... a vocabulary excercise?!

Maybe this is a focal point. Chinese year of the Rooster. My year.
I'm reading Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. I'm also writing from memory but not with the spirit and sensuality of Murakami. Toru turns thirty eight and begins writing his book.

How do I fill this space...
How does Brad Delong do it?! A gifted economist with a research and teaching schedule, yet he still finds time to read, write and comment on his Blog. (and reads books... BOOKS for PLEASURE!)

So many political pundits out there. So many people who know and pretend to know the answer(s). 42

"that's a negative ghost rider. The pattern is full."
turn around ... "every now and then I get a little bit..."
What's the Beatle song I just heard (and sang along to)?

And then you're old and have to decide like Hunter S. Thompson.
Human frailty. It grips me tonight. I can feel it.
like the Force? like a thousand voices crying out and suddenly...
Like Hollywood bullshit

Sky Captain, sky craptain.
take a crap down in the dumps.

Stir the embers, feel the feel and cadillac away Blue sky blues?
Words are words and music loops while I turn old
Blue old, varicous old, varicous blue.

Blue blue enough of the friggin blue
Give me some Cowboy Bebop
Or maybe some Hard Bebop
Hard to the touch and smooth to the heat

Please stop this claptrap of crap...

Tomorrow then