Wednesday, April 27

Break My Legs

Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard
That guilty creatures sitting at a play
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
May be the devil: and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
More relative than this: the play 's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

      Dress rehearsal tonight
      Four shows Tomorrow.
[Listening to: Skindred, "Pressure"]

Sunday, April 24

The Flowers of Youth

Every time I looked at my kid this
weekend, he was eating a booger.
[Listening to: Funkadelic, "Knee Deep"]

Thursday, April 21

Starlight Unexpected

Every now and then when you stand in the ocean a breeze of cold water will swirl around your feet. A temperate eddy, a momentary current. It's the sort of thing that only seems to happen after you've become accustomed to the temperature of the surrounding waters, until that point where the even the blanket of the atlantic calls warmth to your skin.
But then,
but whoosh
A chill arrives.

What you seek seems far far away, but what you find is oh so close, so very and truly real that you're suddenly not sure what to do at all. What was it that created this wake? Was it some ..beast? Something exotic? Could it be a peach-eating mermaid, or a shipwrecked shrike?

Or is it nothing more than simple nature purring wet and close against my calves?
This unexpected chill.
a moment at most.
Letting me know that
I'm still very much alive.
[Listening to: Pink Floyd, "Welcome to the Machine"]

Tuesday, April 19


What about MY needs, cable guy?

What about the time I spent?
the moments I reserved?
the time I took off of work?

What about all that, huh?
[Listening to: Body Count, "KKK Bitch"]

Wednesday, April 13

Sugar Sphinx

Dali, "Cabaret Scene"
[Listening to: Norah Jones]

Monday, April 11

Angie Where Will it Lead Us From Here

I see the Lucy tonight and I have no idea what I'm gonna say.

Not that I plan out things beforehand, but that as things become more and more real, as everything becomes more and more heavy I start to realize that it's hard to know exactly how I feel, hard to know exactly how I'm supposed to feel.

Maybe I'm still making mistakes.
Maybe I never stopped making them.
I wish I could say I have confidence in every step I've taken, but the truth is I don't. I've done some really terrible things. I've brought a lot of this on myself.

What this means is that there will have to be consequences. Equal and opposite reactions. High roads and low roads.
I can say that you're wrong about me,
..but I know you don't believe it.
But me and my true love
Will never meet again
On the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.
[Listening to: Pink Floyd, "Welcome to the Machine"]

Thursday, April 7

Find Your Way Back

Wood floors, red stairs. Ceiling fans and empty cabinets. Neighbors. Traffic. Laundromats. Grocery Runs. Deposits and transfers. Change of address forms.

It's exciting
It's expensive


Reading Lorna Dee Cervantes and thinking
of red Shakespere's winter not so long ago -
I pause.

The sun is so very, very warm; a witches moon.

        And this,
        it seems,
        is me.
[Listening to: Stevie Wonder, "Master Blaster"]

Tuesday, April 5

Not Enough Coffee Man

Teachers can't really take two-martini lunches, can they?
[Listening to: Oingo Boingo, "Just Another Day"]

Monday, April 4

Phoenix ∙ Eighty ∙ Nine

"I dreamt last night. I dreamt of a field of purple lotus flowers somewhere far away, beside a stream of water that came straight from the heart of the earth. It made a perfect pool at my feet, and I looked down into it, and your face looked back at me from the depths of the water..."
Everywhere you appear your shirt illuminates with a yellow and orange aura. Like a little glowing sunshine amongst a faded black and white universe – which you always were.

Am I so different now?
or worse.. have I not changed at all?
Even now, even as I can’t imagine myself in the face that my name appears next to, every moment remains real. Every memory idolized in gold, like David found under rock only after careful chiseling and care.

What has happened to me?
Crazy some will say,
Where is my friend when I need you most?
           ...gone away
[Listening to: Duran Duran, "Ordinary World"]

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