Saturday, December 29, 2007
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
today
is the 23rd.
T minus and counting.
i hope You understand the difference between theoretical and tangible.
No mincing here.
NOTHING to lose. And You think that's a cliche.
There is nothing here. Inside or outside.
Get to it, p.J., otherwise You'll be calling up a stone.
There are more who know how to speak besides Jeremy.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
the man in the suit
just couldn't wait
for the man in the suit
three loops down
and still going
since the days of the pretzel
the man in the suit
on his way
because of
and for
it was being kept under wraps
was gonna surprise...
longed to surprise
craved to surprise
the flower through ice
but the man in the suit
got a phone call
an unspoken message
about his suit
a blunt message
about the heart
for the man in the suit
three loops down
and still going
since the days of the pretzel
the man in the suit
on his way
because of
and for
it was being kept under wraps
was gonna surprise...
longed to surprise
craved to surprise
the flower through ice
but the man in the suit
got a phone call
an unspoken message
about his suit
a blunt message
about the heart
Sunday, December 16, 2007
I remember
I remember you, sir.
It was 1997.
I have never, ever forgotten you.
I have never forgotten what you said without saying a word.
Never forgotten.
I am now you, sir.
It was 1997.
I have never, ever forgotten you.
I have never forgotten what you said without saying a word.
Never forgotten.
I am now you, sir.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
blood and ice
blood
so much
lost and flushing
not dripping
gushing
still alive
after losing
so much...
how on earth?
crevices
cracks
holes and seeping
gaping wounds
endless steeping
red river flowing
deluging
undertowing
ice
numbing
not just cutting
slicing
not just nipping
dicing
frozen meat
in an arctic freezer
the sharpest cleaver
as though blunt
does nothing
not just stinging
violently swinging
landing
upon its mark
golpes to the face
bludgeoned mutton
stunning concussions
wincing
gripping
flinching
now nothing
all gone
the cold hard truth
it doesn't matter
most particularly not to God
and so
because of this
there will soon be
one final act
of coldness
I will be God
for an instant
and all the coldness
will cease
instead of being
the one fucked
in this worthless shithole
I will be the one
who does the fucking
I will be the author
of ice and gales
and wind and hail
as I pin the tail
God has shown
His priorities--
more importantly,
His lack of them
I will
in a moment
show Him mine
and all will see
this rendition
of blood and ice
loud
clear
unequivocal
complete
then He and they
can ponder
what to do
with that blizzard
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
the lamb and the shepherd
Once upon a time there lived a lamb. The lamb was in many ways like other lambs, yet in other regards was different. The lamb grew up as lambs do, taking other lambs and the shepherds of the field as they were, because (of course) this was what the lamb knew. It didn't know any different than what had been around it.
And then, over time, something took place in the lamb. Somehow, and none of us really know how, the lamb was able to see its growings up and its surroundings in a different light, as they really were. This was a good thing, though some (perhaps even many) would not view this as so.
The lamb, who for so long had taken and accepted lambs and shepherds as they were, began to see that lambs and shepherds were not as they appeared to be. They were not as genuine as they gave themselves off to be. They were not as true as they thought themselves to be. They did not love as they proclaimed to love. The lamb saw that, sadly, love was a lip-service word which rolled off the tongues yet in reality had no sustenance with it.
The lamb took this all in, and as turns would have it became what many would say is skittish.
There also, in this same time, lived a shepherd. This shepherd was a good shepherd, yet as fate strangely had it had only ever been around mostly bad and black sheep. The shepherd had endured through this lot, though not very well at all.
One day, as it was, the lamb and this shepherd crossed paths.
It was an interesting acquaintance, for the lamb was skittish and the shepherd had the exclusively bad history with sheep. Even despite what they both had lived, the lamb and the sheep nonetheless came together.
Their time together was good, yet at the same time there was something not quite settled. Whether this was of the lamb or the shepherd no one knows, and it doesn't really matter. Let it simply be said that in light of the goodness of the lamb and shepherd experiencing each other that there was an underlying coarseness that permeated the air.
After some time of being together, despite the goodness that was taking place, the lamb told the shepherd it was going away. The lamb was endeared to this shepherd, yet something about the coarseness took its toll on the lamb. The lamb told the shepherd it was going to another pasture for a bit, and did.
And so the two were apart. Every once in awhile the shepherd would call out to the lamb. The lamb, in the neighboring pasture, could hear the shepherd but did not reply. The lamb missed the shepherd, yet the lamb knew that the time was not yet right to return.
After some bit of time, the shepherd called out again as had occasionally been done. The lamb, this time, replied. The lamb came back from the neighboring pasture to the shepherd.
Something was noticeably different.
The coarseness was gone.
For however things transpire, there was a new dawning for the shepherd and the lamb. A new air over this pasture, and in this new air the shepherd and the lamb came together.
And here is the most difficult part of this account, for here is where human words fail, miserably, to adequately convey what took place for the shepherd and the lamb.
Some would call it good. Others would call it beautiful, others magical. Still others would call it heaven. Heaven because of how much good and healing and Life was now taking place.
The lamb's skittishness, well founded because of the past, was gone. The lamb gave itself to the shepherd with total abandonment. This was not the first time the lamb had been around a good shepherd, yet it had been so so long. So much since the previous good shepherd had been bad, and the lamb had, realistically, given up hope of ever being with a good shepherd again. To be here now, this was just so so good for the lamb.
The shepherd, who had only been around black sheep until now, flourished. After all the years and years of anguish and self-doubt, the shepherd now, finally, was tasting what it was like to be a good shepherd with a good sheep. As they spent time together as shepherd and lamb, the knots and warpings and entanglements, which had seized and gripped and lambasted the shepherd mercilessly for so long, became undone.
It was beautiful. It was heaven. It was Life. The mutual freedom and healing taking place between them was amazing.
One day the lamb was grazing in the plentiful pasture the shepherd provided for it when the shepherd approached. The shepherd knelt down next to the lamb, as was customary and routine for the shepherd to do.
Often the shepherd would kneel down and talk gently to the lamb. Other times the shepherd would kneel and stroke the lamb's wool. Sometimes the shepherd would do both, stroke gently and talk soothingly. Sometimes the shepherd would kneel down, wrap arms around the lamb and carry it over to the fresh spring brook for a crisp and filling drink of water.
On this day, the shepherd bent down as usual. The lamb didn't know what the shepherd would do, yet knew that it was always good. Part of the beauty between the shepherd and the lamb was the suspense of not knowing what was in store, yet the certainty of knowing that whatever was forthcoming was something good.
When the shepherd bent down to the lamb this day, the lamb saw the shepherd make a motion not seen before. This did not startle the lamb for the shepherd was good, and whatever the shepherd did was good.
Suddenly the lamb felt a fiery pain race across its neck from right to left. This startled the lamb, and as it looked down it saw mats of blood and hair already clumping together upon its wool. Beyond this was also blood already forming a pool on the ground. How so much blood could already be out of the lamb and all over everything was beyond comprehension.
The lamb began to raise its glance to the shepherd, but the lamb was already beginning to black out. There was no allowance in this flash of time. No accommodation for shock, for the lamb was already going.
In the final instant, through blood spurting up into the air, the lamb could barely make out the shepherd through the wall of red. The shepherd had stood up and was walking away. As things for the lamb quickened, the shepherd walking briskly and without so much as looking the lamb in the eye, mumbled over the shoulder "I'm not who you think I am."
Then everything, for the lamb, went completely and utterly black.
And then, over time, something took place in the lamb. Somehow, and none of us really know how, the lamb was able to see its growings up and its surroundings in a different light, as they really were. This was a good thing, though some (perhaps even many) would not view this as so.
The lamb, who for so long had taken and accepted lambs and shepherds as they were, began to see that lambs and shepherds were not as they appeared to be. They were not as genuine as they gave themselves off to be. They were not as true as they thought themselves to be. They did not love as they proclaimed to love. The lamb saw that, sadly, love was a lip-service word which rolled off the tongues yet in reality had no sustenance with it.
The lamb took this all in, and as turns would have it became what many would say is skittish.
There also, in this same time, lived a shepherd. This shepherd was a good shepherd, yet as fate strangely had it had only ever been around mostly bad and black sheep. The shepherd had endured through this lot, though not very well at all.
One day, as it was, the lamb and this shepherd crossed paths.
It was an interesting acquaintance, for the lamb was skittish and the shepherd had the exclusively bad history with sheep. Even despite what they both had lived, the lamb and the sheep nonetheless came together.
Their time together was good, yet at the same time there was something not quite settled. Whether this was of the lamb or the shepherd no one knows, and it doesn't really matter. Let it simply be said that in light of the goodness of the lamb and shepherd experiencing each other that there was an underlying coarseness that permeated the air.
After some time of being together, despite the goodness that was taking place, the lamb told the shepherd it was going away. The lamb was endeared to this shepherd, yet something about the coarseness took its toll on the lamb. The lamb told the shepherd it was going to another pasture for a bit, and did.
And so the two were apart. Every once in awhile the shepherd would call out to the lamb. The lamb, in the neighboring pasture, could hear the shepherd but did not reply. The lamb missed the shepherd, yet the lamb knew that the time was not yet right to return.
After some bit of time, the shepherd called out again as had occasionally been done. The lamb, this time, replied. The lamb came back from the neighboring pasture to the shepherd.
Something was noticeably different.
The coarseness was gone.
For however things transpire, there was a new dawning for the shepherd and the lamb. A new air over this pasture, and in this new air the shepherd and the lamb came together.
And here is the most difficult part of this account, for here is where human words fail, miserably, to adequately convey what took place for the shepherd and the lamb.
Some would call it good. Others would call it beautiful, others magical. Still others would call it heaven. Heaven because of how much good and healing and Life was now taking place.
The lamb's skittishness, well founded because of the past, was gone. The lamb gave itself to the shepherd with total abandonment. This was not the first time the lamb had been around a good shepherd, yet it had been so so long. So much since the previous good shepherd had been bad, and the lamb had, realistically, given up hope of ever being with a good shepherd again. To be here now, this was just so so good for the lamb.
The shepherd, who had only been around black sheep until now, flourished. After all the years and years of anguish and self-doubt, the shepherd now, finally, was tasting what it was like to be a good shepherd with a good sheep. As they spent time together as shepherd and lamb, the knots and warpings and entanglements, which had seized and gripped and lambasted the shepherd mercilessly for so long, became undone.
It was beautiful. It was heaven. It was Life. The mutual freedom and healing taking place between them was amazing.
One day the lamb was grazing in the plentiful pasture the shepherd provided for it when the shepherd approached. The shepherd knelt down next to the lamb, as was customary and routine for the shepherd to do.
Often the shepherd would kneel down and talk gently to the lamb. Other times the shepherd would kneel and stroke the lamb's wool. Sometimes the shepherd would do both, stroke gently and talk soothingly. Sometimes the shepherd would kneel down, wrap arms around the lamb and carry it over to the fresh spring brook for a crisp and filling drink of water.
On this day, the shepherd bent down as usual. The lamb didn't know what the shepherd would do, yet knew that it was always good. Part of the beauty between the shepherd and the lamb was the suspense of not knowing what was in store, yet the certainty of knowing that whatever was forthcoming was something good.
When the shepherd bent down to the lamb this day, the lamb saw the shepherd make a motion not seen before. This did not startle the lamb for the shepherd was good, and whatever the shepherd did was good.
Suddenly the lamb felt a fiery pain race across its neck from right to left. This startled the lamb, and as it looked down it saw mats of blood and hair already clumping together upon its wool. Beyond this was also blood already forming a pool on the ground. How so much blood could already be out of the lamb and all over everything was beyond comprehension.
The lamb began to raise its glance to the shepherd, but the lamb was already beginning to black out. There was no allowance in this flash of time. No accommodation for shock, for the lamb was already going.
In the final instant, through blood spurting up into the air, the lamb could barely make out the shepherd through the wall of red. The shepherd had stood up and was walking away. As things for the lamb quickened, the shepherd walking briskly and without so much as looking the lamb in the eye, mumbled over the shoulder "I'm not who you think I am."
Then everything, for the lamb, went completely and utterly black.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
reality in the season of pretentiousness
Well well well, here we are again. The six-week time of year where people engage in trying to have others believe things which are not.
I've got a job where I interact with the public on a daily basis, and just like clockwork here it is. Just like the sun coming up, the week before Thanksgiving people have turned on their "nice" switch and for six weeks pretend to convince people of a wide variety of things.
I wouldn't hate this time of year, except for how rift with fakery and pretention it is.
Is there some good come about from what some do during this six weeks? Sure, and I won't knock that. What ticks me is that in January this same everybody will flip that same switch off and go back to being Hyde instead of Jekyl until next November twenty-something.
This exposes the niceness of this six weeks as, let's be honest, a bunch of chicanery and shallowness.
I would rather people be the same all the time. Why do this in December when you won't be doing so in March? Why are you going out of your way in November, when the rest of the year it's all about your "me and my schedule" mentality?
But this is the time of year for people to crank their penance into hyperdrive. We're jerks for 46 weeks of the year...let's do penance for six to make up for all the rest.
Quite honestly, and I can only speak for me, I'd rather us be self-absorbed jerks and jerkettes as the rest of the year. Slathering on the fakery shouts pretentiousness to me, and I'd rather have people's true self than their attempted deception.
Another part of the year is the mierda people send out at Christmas. Females have the family put on nice clothes and tell them to smile real big, to project to the world what happy and together people they are. (It's such a female thing to project images to others--yet males successfully brainwashed are just as gung-ho about it as the ladies.)
The truth of the matter is these people's lives are writ with quite a bit of ongoing disappointment. The reality of women who talk a big game but then got lost in what women get lost in, and the men who distance themselves from the dig of this by burying themselves in work, civic causes, adulterous lovers, church, naughty pictures, sports, men's groups, other activities. (Then the women are somehow perplexed by the distance, prompting the circular conversations writ with awkward silences and rehashing the same topics rehashed umpteen million times before...yet everyone and everything remain static like rats on a treadmill.)
Yet in light of this reality, look at how many project an Ozzie & Harriet existence to the world.
I wouldn't mind this time of year except for what I know will happen in January. These people I interact with in public? They're still going to slosh around the cheery comments. They're going to speak as though they sincerely wish me well, but the truth is they don't give a rat's ass. And the truth also is that come January this temporary chirpiness and their well wishes will return to scowls,impatience and silence.
Give me your scowls and impatience now, please. I prefer the real you over the attempt to be placated. But we both know that isn't what's going to happen. And so I'll continue to bite my lip and give a silent half-nod as people wish Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and all that.
If I had my druthers, you wouldn't wish me jack shit. All chirpy now, then you turn it off in January. But since it is part of your annual penance and makes you feel better, knock yourself out. There is an ultra nano-percentage of things in life which have even the faintest microblip of merriment, but since people think pretending and the expression of words change dark realities, go ahead and tickle yourself pink. I'm sorry you feel you have to say those things.
I've got a job where I interact with the public on a daily basis, and just like clockwork here it is. Just like the sun coming up, the week before Thanksgiving people have turned on their "nice" switch and for six weeks pretend to convince people of a wide variety of things.
I wouldn't hate this time of year, except for how rift with fakery and pretention it is.
Is there some good come about from what some do during this six weeks? Sure, and I won't knock that. What ticks me is that in January this same everybody will flip that same switch off and go back to being Hyde instead of Jekyl until next November twenty-something.
This exposes the niceness of this six weeks as, let's be honest, a bunch of chicanery and shallowness.
I would rather people be the same all the time. Why do this in December when you won't be doing so in March? Why are you going out of your way in November, when the rest of the year it's all about your "me and my schedule" mentality?
But this is the time of year for people to crank their penance into hyperdrive. We're jerks for 46 weeks of the year...let's do penance for six to make up for all the rest.
Quite honestly, and I can only speak for me, I'd rather us be self-absorbed jerks and jerkettes as the rest of the year. Slathering on the fakery shouts pretentiousness to me, and I'd rather have people's true self than their attempted deception.
Another part of the year is the mierda people send out at Christmas. Females have the family put on nice clothes and tell them to smile real big, to project to the world what happy and together people they are. (It's such a female thing to project images to others--yet males successfully brainwashed are just as gung-ho about it as the ladies.)
The truth of the matter is these people's lives are writ with quite a bit of ongoing disappointment. The reality of women who talk a big game but then got lost in what women get lost in, and the men who distance themselves from the dig of this by burying themselves in work, civic causes, adulterous lovers, church, naughty pictures, sports, men's groups, other activities. (Then the women are somehow perplexed by the distance, prompting the circular conversations writ with awkward silences and rehashing the same topics rehashed umpteen million times before...yet everyone and everything remain static like rats on a treadmill.)
Yet in light of this reality, look at how many project an Ozzie & Harriet existence to the world.
I wouldn't mind this time of year except for what I know will happen in January. These people I interact with in public? They're still going to slosh around the cheery comments. They're going to speak as though they sincerely wish me well, but the truth is they don't give a rat's ass. And the truth also is that come January this temporary chirpiness and their well wishes will return to scowls,impatience and silence.
Give me your scowls and impatience now, please. I prefer the real you over the attempt to be placated. But we both know that isn't what's going to happen. And so I'll continue to bite my lip and give a silent half-nod as people wish Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and all that.
If I had my druthers, you wouldn't wish me jack shit. All chirpy now, then you turn it off in January. But since it is part of your annual penance and makes you feel better, knock yourself out. There is an ultra nano-percentage of things in life which have even the faintest microblip of merriment, but since people think pretending and the expression of words change dark realities, go ahead and tickle yourself pink. I'm sorry you feel you have to say those things.
Monday, December 03, 2007
it's already beginning, of course
Well well well, here we are again. The six-week time of year where people engage in trying to have others believe things which are truly not.
I've got a job where I interact with the public on a daily basis, and just like clockwork here it is. People have turned on their "nice" switch and for six weeks are already pretending as though they care more than they actually do.
I wouldn't hate this time of year, except for how rift with fakery and pretention it is.
Is there some good come about from people being this way during this time? Sure, and I won't knock that. What ticks me is that in January these same folks will flip that same switch off and go back to being Hyde instead of Jekyl until next November twenty-something.
This exposes the niceness of this six weeks as, let's be honest, a bunch of chicanery and shallowness.
I would rather people be the same all the time. Why do this in December when you won't be doing so in March? Why are you going out of your way in November, when the rest of the year it's all about your "me and my schedule" mentality?
But this is the time of year for people to crank up the penance into hyperdrive. We're assholes and bitches for 46 weeks of the year...let's pretend for six to make up for all the rest.
Quite honestly, and I can only speak for me, I'd rather you be an asshole or a bitch like you are the rest of the year. Slathering on the fakery shouts pretention to me, and I'd rather have people's true self than the attempts to deceive. Attempts to make me think they are what they truly aren't.
Another part of this year is the b.s. that people send through their Christmas cards. Everyone puts on nice clothes and smiles real big, so they can project to the world what happy and together people they are.
The truth of the matter is their life and their year is filled largely with strife and underwhelmingness. The reality of emotional roller coaster, hoodwinking women who talk a big game, and the men who distance themselves from this by burying themselves in work, civic affairs, church, naughty pictures, men's groups, other activities.
I wouldn't mind this time of year except for what I know will happen in January. And so these people I interact with in public? They're still going to slosh around the cheery comments, and as much as I can't stand it I'm resigned to it. They're going to speak as though they truly and sincerely wish me well, but the truth is they don't give a rat's ass. And the truth also is that come January this temporary chirpiness will return to the normal scowls and impatience.
Give me your scowls and impatience now too, please. I prefer the real you over the attempt to be placated. But we both know that isn't what's going to happen. And so I'll continue to simply bite my lip and give a silent half-nod as you wish me a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and all that.
If I had my druthers, you wouldn't wish me jack shit. But since it is part of your annual penance and makes you feel better, knock yourself out. There's not a God damn thing merry or happy about my life, but since people think the mere expression of words changes dark realities, go ahead and tickle yourself pink. I'm sorry you feel you have to say those things.
I've got a job where I interact with the public on a daily basis, and just like clockwork here it is. People have turned on their "nice" switch and for six weeks are already pretending as though they care more than they actually do.
I wouldn't hate this time of year, except for how rift with fakery and pretention it is.
Is there some good come about from people being this way during this time? Sure, and I won't knock that. What ticks me is that in January these same folks will flip that same switch off and go back to being Hyde instead of Jekyl until next November twenty-something.
This exposes the niceness of this six weeks as, let's be honest, a bunch of chicanery and shallowness.
I would rather people be the same all the time. Why do this in December when you won't be doing so in March? Why are you going out of your way in November, when the rest of the year it's all about your "me and my schedule" mentality?
But this is the time of year for people to crank up the penance into hyperdrive. We're assholes and bitches for 46 weeks of the year...let's pretend for six to make up for all the rest.
Quite honestly, and I can only speak for me, I'd rather you be an asshole or a bitch like you are the rest of the year. Slathering on the fakery shouts pretention to me, and I'd rather have people's true self than the attempts to deceive. Attempts to make me think they are what they truly aren't.
Another part of this year is the b.s. that people send through their Christmas cards. Everyone puts on nice clothes and smiles real big, so they can project to the world what happy and together people they are.
The truth of the matter is their life and their year is filled largely with strife and underwhelmingness. The reality of emotional roller coaster, hoodwinking women who talk a big game, and the men who distance themselves from this by burying themselves in work, civic affairs, church, naughty pictures, men's groups, other activities.
I wouldn't mind this time of year except for what I know will happen in January. And so these people I interact with in public? They're still going to slosh around the cheery comments, and as much as I can't stand it I'm resigned to it. They're going to speak as though they truly and sincerely wish me well, but the truth is they don't give a rat's ass. And the truth also is that come January this temporary chirpiness will return to the normal scowls and impatience.
Give me your scowls and impatience now too, please. I prefer the real you over the attempt to be placated. But we both know that isn't what's going to happen. And so I'll continue to simply bite my lip and give a silent half-nod as you wish me a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and all that.
If I had my druthers, you wouldn't wish me jack shit. But since it is part of your annual penance and makes you feel better, knock yourself out. There's not a God damn thing merry or happy about my life, but since people think the mere expression of words changes dark realities, go ahead and tickle yourself pink. I'm sorry you feel you have to say those things.
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