writing without conjunctions is hard

william faulkner worked 6p to 6a as a 'coal passer' in a power plant where he wrote As I Lay Dying in six weeks and four out of the last five presidents were left-handed and dali says you should not fear perfection for you will never attain it;

i came across, and reluctantly browsed, a yahoo! news article about the 2008 presidential candidates and the meaning of their signatures. apparently, all three are strong in ego and ambition (good to know). a couple may or may not have pride in their respective families/culture (sad), and they are all real smart. this is scientific evidence. maybe. i must use this analysis. it could mean something. it has to. maybe this was the tie-breaker i was searching for, if i am allowed to vote. i would suggest to all to do this...but, since there is an audience willing to receive such information when choosing the best possible individual to lead this country into even more strife, despair (yes, i said despair - look around, you will find it) that currently plagues this era, my suggestion is not necessary.

i still think the one that can win a triple threat steel cage lumberjack wrestling match with no disqualifications (no dq) is the best way to choose a 'leader'. any leader really. there would be no need to vote, no campaigning with all that dirty mud flying around (i should add a reminder that voting does not matter, does not count because, if it did, al gore would have saved the world as president rather than win oscars for a documentary about our dying planet - he did win one, right? - also, note that in no way whatsoever will i endorse al gore for president). moving on. by the way, he sure looked righteous with the beard.

a legend, if you would like, for the match and stipulations i have stated above:
- triple threat means three opponents (but you deduced that already, i am sure), no teams, the winner is the one who gets the pin (does not matter who pins who - or is it whom? i should sleep soon)
- steel cage is just that, ten foot-plus walls surrounding the ring; traditionally, one could win this match by a pin or by climbing over the top of the cage, spiderman-ing it down the other side allowing the feet-touching-the-ground victory; sadly, for the participants, this will not be allowed
- lumberjack is tricky here as this is where outside the ring on the floor a very large number of men and/or women accumulate and wait to throw the contestant back in to the ring if said contestant tries to make a run for it. the trick in this situation is, you may be asking, 'are they not already in a cage from which they cannot escape?' the answer is 'yes, lab partner, they are in a cage, but...there is a door (to the cage) and it is not locked.' the lumberjacks attendance assures such a cowardly exit to the contest in such a political (pun) way will not occur; a large number of lumberjacks installed in this fashion is merely for effect, show, excitement; let me be entertained for this is why i came

-no dq means just that, no rules; this is a gift to the contestants and weapons are cool

this proposition is ridiculous and riddled with trailer-park-natty-ice humor and certainly i am not the first to birth such an inspiration. but the metaphor is solid. to me anyway. the cage represents no easy win, no cut-and-run while encouraging shock-and-awe, heart, commitment. they would be/should be fighting for you, no? the lumberjacks exist as, in reality, accountability does not. and no dq is there simply as an olive branch to the candidates. who does not like to 'break the rules'? politics.


whew. test. number one is done. i think.
an all my love and a goodnight.

where have i gone?

i think i may be trying to transition this blog, blog is some word...from purely personal and vain to mostly opinionated.

i have had a few, so bear with me (how did a bear ever get associated with patience?).

personally, though, it should be noted, examined, i am exhausted in every consonant of that word.

seems i have taken to reading way too much about this political thing going on. as well: the economy and everything that is taxing (pun) every one. and now i want to write about it and feel, when i do have enough empirical data and ridiculously over-punctuated views because that is why blogs were invented, that now i am ready - it is a good time. maybe.

me thinking i am important enough that some one wants read what i think about global warming and current weather phenomena, nascar, the war in iraq and afghanistan, mixed martial arts, companies like the one i work for, steroids in baseball, "going green", wrestling as a sports entertainment vehicle, conflicts with iran, north korea (and, eventually, russia and china - of which certainly a great amount of attention must be paid today), gasoline/oil, israel/palestine, the problem with professional basketball, why soccer sucks, the cost of the egg, microsoft getting slapped, commercial planes flying even after failing federal safety audits, the domestic "war" on terror fleecing civil liberties, men having sex in the bathroom during their lunch break and getting caught but not stopping, history happening again and today is nothing new accept for decreases in accountability and respect, how my vote does not count and will not ever matter, the cycle that is the music industry, the most innovative films to date, why classic literature is called "classic", why the pope is terrifying, and, though not lastly, why legacy matters.

but this direction is needed. for me. in all my years, i have finally reached a conclusion that i cannot stop thinking. this has no direct impact on my actions for those alone only teach me as i grow older through victories and defeats. apathetic as i have tried to be, i have realized that i was merely running out of fear...someone said, i am sure, but even if they did not, then i am saying it now, life is a search full of questions and i am given the tools to seek answers, regardless their potency or truth - if it is true to me then that is all it is, meaning what is true to me may not be the same for you. and that is ok. just fine. i would not want it any other way.

all my love.

The Cold War, or Oil and Water

fomr Cherry Bleeds June 2007

search me

so i google myself often. been doing it since 04, to see some stuff and to know what others would see ever since i got all paranoid after reading news stories about potential employers searching prospective employees online...and that other thing that happened ('member, im crazy!?!).

so, something new has caught my eye.

there is a retired shipman living with his life partner and three cats in tennessee penning poems and small fiction that have been published. his name is my name. coincidentally, we have both been "copywriting" under our names. though i tend to use the longer version of my first name. anyway. should i clarify? no.

but i will.

i dont think i would ever describe a room or anything else, for that matter, as "oozing" unless it was a terrible wound (and even then i would scour a thesaurus in search of something more ridiculous sounding).
also,
i am not a retired shipman. i do not live in tenessee (though eastern tennessee has a terrific smile). and i do not have three cats.
also,
ive frequently thought i may have been related to earnest hemingway because i am balding rapidly. after swooning, i realize i do not like guns and this cannot be so. however, i am now of sound mind and body that i would not write an untrue piece surrounded by the OOZING aura of a dead literary giant nor shall i use said giants name in a title (pun).

side bar, counselor:
i dont think that made any sense.

now, go google yourself and tell me what happens. and where would i be without google anyway? ill tell you. id be back at stupid old yahoo. wait, i still go there. nevermind.

i am going to show this new discovery to my life partner. she will love it.

and - as if youre on pins and needles, pining for an update as to my 'goings on', ill do all that later. dont tell no one though, but, i think, i think, i may be real close to something someone called happy. but i dont know.

i wrote this song after i killed a drifter to get an erection

im tired. sick. and it feels like a houston winter in the basket.

in two months of my new residence, ive had a cold and the flu. the latter being everso present at this moment. truman is sick a lot. shannon as well.

ive noticed, in my newly formed 'friendships' here, that most are hell-bent on selling this place to me. not that i needed to be sold, but things are far from similar to my custom or culture or whatever, and, i make no hesitation in expressing my confusion. maybe they get offended? maybe. but they dont know where i come from and im in their home. so i suppose this transition to the remainder of my days is, well, more difficult than id like to admit. i miss houston, in an odd but romantic, and even sadistic, way. this is normal. and ill be alright. truman has a better shot at being a better man than i am here. i have a better shot at trying to recover from whatever it is that is killing me. my marriage has a better chance at surviving. i love wife and son and will do whatever it takes...

this tastes like rainbows.

i went to the moose after work for the first time this week. the moose is a lodge where you can eat and drink at seven in the morning. if youre not a member, you have to be accompanied by one. it was fine until i vomitted, voilently, when i got home. i felt like food poisoning. didnt get any sleep and i still went to work that night. so, obviously, something has changed. who am i to work at a time when im not 100%? but ive often argued to myself that i am have never been 100%. and this has to happen. so i build engines in a fever waiting for the insurance to start. and im very proud of myself. for the first time in a long time. the basket has changed me.

i miss rob and tuesdays at tks though im told you cant smoke cigarettes inside there anymore. i may even miss mike a little but i dont think about it anymore or try not to. sure ive made a mistake where he and i stand, i just dont know whats worth it anymore. eh.

i should go.

the bread basket at 420a, pun

so. where am i....

ive been here, this basket that im told isnt really the bread basket but simply the midwest, for almost two months. so much as happened and weve got a lot to get to so let us begin, review, analyze (for your pleasure, and it might take a small amount of hubris on your part as im a tad drunk as it is my day off and ive pabst was on sale, i will not edit this):

the trip from houston to here.
i think it was august 4th when we loaded the truck and headed to what was the first stop on our, my wife, son, and self, trek to our new home. that stop was long beach, mississippi. if you remember hurricane katrina (and why wouldnt you?), this is the OTHER part of total devastation that storm left behind (it didnt just hit new orleans!!!). my sister and her family lives there. to inform, we decided to TRY and make the trip a sort of vacation and i will expund on this later. so the fourth day of the hottest month of the year, some people came, got our stuff, truman got mad, we loaded up and said goodbye to my home. our home. we arrived at my sisters around 10p, talked and crashed....exhausted. i did get some nice gifts for my birthday from her, a nice retro johnny cash tee and and the ever-lovely new wilco disc that came with a live dvd.

the next day we said goodbye and headed to meridian, mississippi to visit my grandpa and aunt (the first time since grandma passed). not twenty miles from their house, the truck decided it was too hot and blew a pretty hole in the radiator. sensing our VACATION was over, we began to make alternate plans. those plans included us renting a car, driving shannon and the truman the rest of the way, driving back to meridian to get the truck, and driving back to our final destination. all in all it took about a week, way too much money, and about 2000 plus miles.

new beginnings (?):
once the foiled VACATION was over and the truck fixed, i sat. some days with truman (he hadnt started school and shannon was already working), some days reading (ive read five books since ive been here), some days looking for musical bands to play to play musical instruments with, some days depressed, everyday finding work. i have found a band and a job and maybe the two dont mix anymore. and every one here looks at me funny. im in another country if you ask me.

this place,
there are, i would estimate, 20,000 people in this city. and small city so its more like a town to me if i gauge it to houston. there really isnt much to do. one liquor store bought every other liquor store to become the only liquor store in town. you cannot buy booze on sunday. you cannot buy cold six packs in any store other than the liuquor store. you can buy whatever liquor you want at a drug store, though. people drive terribly. i know, where i come from, you drive as if youre going to get run over. here they either drive too slow or too fast. ive been flipped off once, but i think i deserve that. there are no whataburgers or jack in the boxes. there is no lone star or pearl. the restaurants im afraid of and the two music instruments shops in town dont really cater to drummers. theres one pawn shop, and shit load of meth-induced smiles and eyes. more on this place should accompany the paragraph entitled 'this job'.

this music,
there is none. wait, thats wrong. theres music. and the guys ive found to play with are stellar. but no one listens to what i listen to. and no one has even heard of what i mentioned (though it should be noted that i NEVER volunteer information unless asked and even then i keep to the bare minimum with enough bullshit to make them wonder, and boy do they wonder). could it be ive been spoiled? i never looked at houston that way, spoiling me. i always thought it sucked when someone didnt play there. but, no one plays here. NO ONE. not anyone i would want to see. not that i would go. anyway. im in a band, kind of. it is called EARL, kind of. its rootsy rock (i guess), kind of. not that id find the requisite mogwai/wilco lover that i search for....

this job,
ive been working, THANK GOD, for about a week now. third shift, building engines. i stand in a line all night putting pistons in to mostly small block turbo diesel engines for biggo trucks. good stuff. a riot. me. building engines. im just so happy to be working. those i work with have seemed to warm to me and most nights are filled with questions, that whole getting-to-know-you thing. i like them. i like going to work. ill like it even more when they pay to go back to school. which is my plan.

anyway. im done for now. drunk and tired, my day off is almost over and...what the fuck ever. i shouldnt cuss that much.

books i read:
grant speaks (authors name i cant spell - fiction)
rant - palahniuk
the first man - camus
babylon by bus - (three authors i cant remember)
raise high the roofbeams, carpenters and seymour, and introduction - salinger

what im thouroughly enjoying musically:
commons new cd
wilcos sky blue blue sky
interpols new disc

last,
truman, ive decided, is growing way too fast. hes 17 months now. over 30 lbs. 3ft tall, i think. and getting stronger. he regularly beats the shit out of me and i constantly thank whomever for letting me experience the best thing thats ever happened to me. and we finally cut his har.

love.