Tears of a Headless Man

Lipless quiver, armless shiver, pizza man with crust but got no pie to deliver
River bed napper with a mad woman slapper. I know you think it may be cruel
but at least he doesn’t cap her.
Control flies out the window and then it shatters on the ground we got a
A treed up raccoon without bullet or a hound and then we’ll
cry ourselves to sleep amongst the silent of the day cause
We forget to ask directions, at the toll bridge, didn’t pay.
A pat upon our shoulders where rationality was found but now our
minds are getting mushy with our thoughts upon the ground
we got no money in our pockets cause the boss gave us the can
Explosions running rampant. Tears of a headless man.

School day stumble, backyard rumble, Building blocks up in our bedrooms
till like jenga there’s a tumble
And we can’t even imagine what it’s like to live up there cause they told us
life aint easy and it really isn’t fair but we can
see it in the distance bout a million miles away we
do it on our own or we get on our knees and pray
Once we’re up “shut up your feelings! You’re way too far above your league.” You start
to think you might give up to just quit out on this fatigue. but you
can’t. you just know it. there has got to be a way but for now
you’re stuck here wishing for more than minimum wage pay.
There’s a million others out there. from New Brunswick to Japan
Dreaming higher than the clouds and with tears of a headless man.

Dragon wizard, warlock lizard, salt and pepper shakers on the tv there’s a blizzard
Cause the boat is on the river but the house is in the field and there’s a
beam of solid daisies blocked by Tarzan with a shield. and the
kitten’s in the box and he’s got poison on his jaws but we’ll
never see him die. we’ll never look at what he daws.
The bios eats the zoe with his back against the crowd while we
spend our time not looking, too afraid of what we’d found
like the news of 1933 was only the depression. like the
views beyond our lcd encourages viewer discretion just as the
the wizard standing upstage raises zombie Taliban wile we
ignore it till the reign falls down like tears of a headless man.

Welcome Back to the Program Everybody

“Welcome back to the program. Our next guests’ shocking story makes their appearance on the show today a likely unfathomable legal risk. Their message of hope, however, greatly outweighs any danger. Their’s is a message of optimism with the power to shatter social norms and cultural exclusions to open new doors to truth about living identity. Let’s take a look:”

As Jacob and Josie brought home their beautiful baby girl, Madeline, from the hospital they silently pledged to ever provide for all of her temporal and spiritual needs. Little did they know, this precious gift from heaven would take them on a journey neither parent could have ever seen coming.

“When Josie was able to bring Maddi from the hospital I couldn’t keep my eyes off the two of them. Josie was glowing, greater than on our wedding day and Maddi, my gosh. Maddi, the little hairball, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was evident the new arrival would positively change the couple’s lives forever.

“She was a very happy baby, very playful. She would wriggle around in my arms and cuddle into me all the time. Jake and I could spend hours just playing with her in her crib. We could tease her with little bits of string hung over the edge and she would laugh and laugh, reaching up with her little fingers and grasping at the end of the yarn just having a blast. She rarely cried. She was just so happy.”

Shortly, Josie began noticing peculiar differences between Madeline and other young children.

“We knew pretty early on that Maddi was special. At first it was just that. She was so cheerful all the time. As she grew though, we could see she was not an average girl. She picked up crawling so quickly. She would romp around the house looking for little bits of whatever to put in her mouth. She had a knack for finding insects which was probably torture for the little dudes. Once she brought me a cockroach in her little paw she put it on the ground in front of me and started patting around at it alive, showing me what she could do. It was like she was trying to say something to me. When I told her how nice it was and put the bug out of its misery she hissed upset at me but she’s so loving and forgiving she was quickly cuddling up with my leg as happy as ever.”

Shortly after Maddi’s learning to talk, the realization struck Jacob when they found her one day playing with the family pet.

“I came home from work and found Maddi playing with the cat. I asked her what she was doing and the answer was simple. ‘Daddy, I’m a kitty.’ That was that. It wasn’t much of a shock for me. We knew she was different and this just explained everything. I love my daughter so much. Who am I to tell her she isn’t what she feels inside she is. That would make me a terrible human. We discussed it and made preparations with a team of surgeons immediately for a species change.”

“Please welcome Jacob and Josie with their beautiful kitten Madiline everybody. . .”

Happy March Fourth Everybody...

Globe, you're probably asking yourself a question right now. That's right, I know you talk to yourself all the time and sometimes you answer yourself which is kind of scary but even though you know that you keep doing it because you're a psychopath. The question you're asking yourself might not be what I have in mind so if you're not asking the following question I want you to do so, so I can be right. Right now you should be asking yourself, "What's so special about March 4th?" "That's a very good question," you reply as you begin puzzling, "is it my birthday?" "no, it's not my birthday." "Is it some kind of holiday?" "actually, it probably is. It's like some kind of anniversary of something or like 'eat a muffin day'. Oh, well, it is the fourth day of Women's History/Frozen Food Month, maybe that's," WRONG!! "what's," WRONG. "special about," WRONG "dang it! What's going on? Why am I getting yelled at by a blog?! i'm just trying to figure out what's going on here! I don't have to take this crap! I read this out of agency not necessity. I can reduce his followers to two at any moment with one follower representing himself. THIS IS A STUPID BLOG ANYWAY!!" Whoa, Whoa, lets calm down, just take a breather, there's no reason to get upset. It's just that while March 4th may be some weird holiday that nobody really celebrates, that's not the reason for my wishing you a happy one today.

You see, it all started last night at about 11:3o after finishing some mediocre nachos at a Mexican resaurante in Mesquite and we were just sitting there wondering why we were sitting there. It then hit us that we must be waiting to leave at midnight, like it's some kind of holiday, like new years and we wanted to count down to the hour and watch the ball drop. 321 Happy March Fourth!! (Fireworks!) Yay! God Bless America! Woo hoo!!

You know, there's nothing special about march fourth, (if it's your birthday, I apologize) but that's why I think it's special. Today is a day to celebrate today. It's a day to say, "you know what?" "what self?" "Life is a thing to be loved." It's a day to get out in the world and do something more than dream. It's a time to make dreams realities, hopes plans, and goals memories. This year is 63 days old and a lot of our new years resolutions have probably expired. It's time to get back on the worthwhile resolutions and to make some new and improved ones. So happy fourth of March ladies and gents. Happy day that isn't so special to a lot of people. happy friday, or if it's not friday where you live, happy other day of the week! Get out there and dance.

Yellow There! Ow are you this fine day?

To begin, I would like to apologize for any misunderstanding from my previous entry. Allow me to explain. For a birthday in the past I was bestowed with a treasure by my loving parents. The album Kind of Blue by Miles Davis has been widely recognized as the bible of modern jazz. His sound was pure, his improvisation  was bare and open and his style was revolutionary to the world of music. As I listened I came to a track on the album entitled Flamenco Sketches and saw an image in my mind. I witnessed a girl twirling and darting to and fro around a world that was exciting and dangerous. i saw her living her life, feeling  happy and sad and excited and stressed as she waited tables at a small Spanish cafe and did homework on her breaks. i saw her in classes and at home with struggles there as well. And I saw her dancing in a slow rhythmic flamenco style. I have since come to the conclusion that there's a story in that song and I want to tell it if I can. After much thought I have started writing and I'd like to know if i should finish. The gist of the story is this: Rafaela Baillette Alonso lives in Andalusia, Spain, the capital of flamenco music. The music that defines her country is all around her in both commercial and more intimate forms but like anyone who is constantly surrounded by something it really doesn't mean much to her. She lived in the U.S. For a year as an exchange student and she attends a small community college. She meets a young spelunker and they teach each other something about life and the music that fills it.

As you know, some tragic events have recently transpired. I have a few thoughts on the matter. First, my thoughts and prayers are with those directly effected. Second i would like to address the mainstream commentary on the matter. I first heard it from Countdown with Keith Olberman. He took a moment from his realist approach to current events to discuss the implications of public discourse. I was quite intrigued at this because arguments kritikal of our discourse has been a specialty of mine through the debate years. Keith is right. While he may have been addressing a specific group of people and I'm pretty convinced that the man who committed this horrendous act wasn't a Sarah Palin worshiping -shall I say it? - normal conservative, language that is hurled around us an an ever increasing and rapid rate has had a tremendous impact on public actions. We're convinced through the "blessing" of movies, video games, political attack ads and news that direct violence is both the sole problem and the sole solution. We let millions die of water born illnesses, hunger and natural chaos while we spend trillions killing innocents in order to protect from terrorists threats that kill statistically fewer people worldwide than there are American bathtub drownings. We care more about killing in faraway lands then we do saving lives here in our own and what do we get for it? Children who grow up wanting to play real life grand theft auto, break the law when no one's watching and kill their congressmen and women for voting with a disliked president. The violence won't end or even diminish without a concentrated effort to diminish indirect as well as direct causes of violence.

In other recent news, I bowled a 114 yesterday. If you normally bowl higher pretend you don't so I can still feel like a fantastic bowler.

I love you guys.

Flamenco Sketches

One

droplet’s gentle caress glides across the sunbeamed horizon.

One

wisp’s desire floats above the scattered clouds.

One

day’s beginning engaged to time itself

clenches the coming of here and now.

Noise fades into blackness as light dispels

its unruly calm.

Engines’ roars

are silenced at the sacred start of times daily soliloquizing

dew upon the peaceful quiver.

Early chilled in soft expression

Spanish sunrisn’ coming lesson.

June 8^th 2011

            It’s Monday. Just hours ago we were leaving Chicago, popping a Dramamine, and closing our eyelids. I’m ready to get off this plane. The wind out my window is much more inviting than the clean plastic smell I’ve been stuck with for the last six hours. Don’t get me wrong, planes excite me. From lift off to let down I’m amazed. I made Jake switch me seats so I could witness the speed-blurred landscape through the window. Smog singed cities glow in the darkness like fireflies in a beer bottle and American forests are a new world of green. It’s funny that when I’m in the city it’s like all the buildings are the same gray, but from above it’s a sea of exquisite shades. Forests seam only ever green at ground level but up here, even in the dark, there’s a rainbow’s difference in the same ever-color. Then there’s the ocean. It sparkles. I though maybe I’d see some dolphins or sharks or a whale or two, but I don’t think that’s what the ocean’s about. It’s mostly water. But that’s what makes it so awe inspiring. Water is so simple, but the endless water, I thought, was my favorite. Maybe it was because the sun was creeping up one end or that our lights were dancing across the waves but I think God must have went overboard on the glitter glue when he made the ocean. The stars must be jealous.

 I thought the water was my favorite, that is, until I met the Spanish morning. The sun’s sparkle effect isn’t stuck to the oceans. The fields were crying pixie dust tears and I found one or two tears of my own. I’m not that sensitive; I must have dosed off halfway across the Atlantic and the light just got to me, but seriously. A breeze through a field of flowers sends shivers down the whole countryside. I could see commuters get on the roads for work and night partiers slink home. Wispy clouds cast crumpled shadows over houses all built with a quaint Spanish charm. The whole city seams to be dancing slowly to an unheard melody. The roads bend this way and that and the softest breeze tends to follow. As we descend, the sharp breaks in our smooth motion jab holes in the sweet music turning it in all directions. The chords are rhythmically twisted to fit the whims of the morning’s mood until we make contact with the runway and Jake startles awake.

Jake is the man. Yes, I wrote that in case he’s reading over my shoulder but he is a pretty awesome guy. He was our football team’s best receiver. Sophomore year, when I was the JV quarterback I usually got it to him for any good yardage.  That wasn’t just because he’s my buddy. I guess he was just too quick. He’s an overachiever in a good sort of way. In school, he always got straight A’s in all his honor’s courses and would have been valedictorian if he hadn’t done that dual credit program through the community college. He’s 6’2’’ with an affable Beiber cut, faded blue eyes and a lanky build. He works out a lot and usually wears basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He’s the only guy I know who got asked to prom by four different girls. It didn’t matter. We ditched prom for Carlsbad, but it was a nice gesture from the ladies.

Jake did most of the setup for this excursion. He’s the most responsible of the three of us by far and he got us a great flight deal. It doesn’t really matter that we were in the air all night and when we finally get out of here it will be the unreasonable five A.M. Central European time. We only had one short stop in Chicago mid flight. He also got all of our permits in line, which was not the easiest of responsibilities. The Spanish government is, I’m told, a little more uptight about these kinds of things than Uncle Sam. I know it’s kind of shocking. Anyway, it’s a good thing we’re just the three of us and we qualify as a “Small Group” rather than a “Small Tour Group”. Jake, in his ever meticulous fashion made sure little things like that were all in line. He insisted on not going through as third party so we could work out and flex our itinerary. It also helped with the pricing of everything in the long run although if I didn’t trust Jake I would have been a little put off by his preliminary cost analysis. He pulled it through nicely in the end and everything was ready to go just after graduation.

If we weren’t such agreeable people, we might really mess with Manny. He’s partially reclined with his mouth open and his left arm bent awkwardly like a chicken wing. His right arm is hanging in the aisle like he’s asking a little kid to share her candy and his breathing is steady with little outbursts here and there like a suffocating rabbit. When we landed he jerked a little in his seat but he’s pretty much dead. At least he’s relaxed. His face, normally tight against his stout bone structure, is drooped and ready for someone’s aunt to squeeze and notice how grown up he’s getting. Airplane seats aren’t quite built for his lineman stature. It’s a shock that he could even get comfortable enough to pass out like that. His shoulders out span the chair back and his waist fits inelegantly between the arm rests.

People are moving around upon the pilot’s welcoming to Andalucia. Jake had the pleasant job of waking the sleeping giant. He rubbed his dark chocolate eyes and asked where we were in the flight. Upon realization that we had made our arrival he stretched his arms and did one of those waking up yawns that last too long.

            Time to breathe some wind. 

Fly Me to the Moon

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

Birds in the sky they know I feel

Head spins around wonder if this is real

I could write you a speech or just give you the shpeel

As I drive through the air got no hands on the wheel

I’m bulletproof, crashproof and the world is my yard

Nothin is tougher than I am not hard

ly noticin simply and motionin floatin the roller the air I’ve been coastin in

Your love is my mission the something I’m missin

Just lift off the sky and its leavin me wishin

and take me away not a moment’s delay and just

fly fly like the birds in the flappin’

Fly, hold me till angels are clappin’

(fly)I’m petrified terrified froze till you by my side

wrap me in loveliness wonder delightnin to

(Fly)strike thunder struck in slow motion or stuck

getting lost for the heck of the ride that I’m dreamin in

takin a nap on small dots on the map an(d)

just a touch of my hand in a blink of a snap

and I’m gone soarin above all the clouds and you

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

The Somewhat Amazing Adventures of Project Grow-A-Friend

You can't see them, but lying on the top of the carefully composed soil in this cup on a water filled Nesquik lid, fiftyish nearly microscopic packages of life are waiting to spring forth into existence. 

It started the other day when my father didn't awaken me from my morning hibernation to give me my mail and instead gave me the package of a packet of a packet of fifty African Hybrid Fantasy Teacup Violet seeds later that afternoon. I was kind of worried when i opened the package.The packet, which I learned today contained a smaller packet, didn't look like it had seeds in it. It looked like this:     .      .      .. Ok so blogger doesn't want to upload the image but just imagine half a golden ticket that is not very packet like and if you shake it you can't hear seeds.I was even more worried today when i further investigated, but we'll get to that. I didn't have any time to plant that day so i waited until today to do the opening and planting and stuff. 

So today i read the instructions on the back of the not so packety packet and also some instructions in the instruction manualish thing that came with the alleged packet of seeds. They wanted me to germinate all the seeds at the same time in some miniature egg carton looking thing. That's more than I bargained for. This is project grow-A-friend not grow-50-friends. That's to much to handle.I decided I could do just one seed instead and went to the store to get some soil and a plastic pot thing - you know, those things they put plants in that are made of plastic. Well, those things that they put plants in and are made of plastic are hard to come by. Also, soil is not sold at the local store where you buy that kind of stuff except in like fifty pound bags. i don't need that much so I decided to improvise. I went the dixie cup route for planting and prepared for soil hunting. 

Soil hunting was a flop. Armed with my shovel and collecting cup, I walked to the river and it turns out, our river doesn't have beach where all the soil is. All the soil sucks and then the ground just drops off into the river like a cliff. I know down there in the water, there is good soil, but I'm not that determined so I found some leftover manure from our garden to construct my soil from. 

I don't know if I told you this, but at the old people swap meet, I got some Humate and Sea Kelp for my soil and i mixed a teaspoon of each with my manure for maximum growing potential. Then, as per instruction I put my creation in a zippy bag and added some water for it to soak up. I had what looked like the perfect ratio of water to soil and I was ready to trasport it to my cup, but then i thought maybe i needed a little more water. i don't know the absorbing capasity of Humately kelpish manure, so I put a little more in the bag and instantly had manure soup on my hands. It was terrible. I don't know if you know this, but once you've made manure soup, it's really hard to separate out the water. I would say it's kind of impossible to just drain it out. I dumped it in my cup and got some of the collected water from the top and then added more dry cow crap to balance it out. Just fyi, something in my soil mixture did not have the most delightful of aromas and i was not having a ton of fun at this point in time. With some complex tinkering of the soil creation, I had a decent looking cup of dirt for planting in. 

Then, I opened the packet. To my surprise, in the packet, was another packet. In this packet was nothing. I'm serious. I kind of believe I've been gypped. upon further investigation i found somethings that might be seeds, but I still kind of doubt that they're real. I've never seen anything so so small and Humately Kelpish Manure colored in my life. I dumped a few on the counter and promptly couldn't tell the difference between them and random specs of whatever is on the counter. I then decided I should tap a "seed" or two on the top of my soil. They're supposed to sit on top to germinate. Unfortunately, it''s hard to only dump one. Sooooooo... I have a lot of invisible seeds on some Poopy, kelpy, wet, humately stuff in my window sill. I can only hope my friend(s) will grow.