imissplayingmusicinfrontofpeople

Short stories...

on the back burner.

Better things that I'm writing

Right

NOW.......................

I'm playing the snare drum to this while you sleep...

posumeezeemsgoogleplex

I'm not insane.

Just yelling at them to not eat Marcel's food.
One almost came into my room the other night...

DUDE!

This kid is back AGAIN!

I JUSTJUST yelled at him, like...WHAT? 15 seconds ago?

I can always tell if it's an Opossum because of the sound of the way that they eat and the way that the food grinds against their teeth.

I don't hate them.

It just gives me something to do, to be honest.

Black Lion.

I think I'll write this on Friday.

Blue Lion.

You wanted an avalanche of progress and not the glacier-like reality

Green Lion.

On the front porch watching the sprinklers. It reminds me of childhood...except that I'm not trying to hump bedposts and basketball poles.

Yellow Lion.

The only phone call that I got today was from an older Italian gal that comes into my work. She's really sweet. I didn't pick up the phone because I hate long conversations. She was wondering and hoping if I got enough sleep today after my horrible night last night and I did get a lot of sleep. I almost got up early but then thought to myself...ehhhh, what's the point? I do this everyday but today especially because it's Labor Day.

Wheeee!!!!

The house is quiet today and I'm peckingly watching snippets of Band of Brothers on TV - which is depressing. I never turn the thing on. I was actually considering playing a video game but I play the things once every five months or so. Now that I think about it....what do I do? I work, I stay up late and fuck around on the computer, I hang out late with Patrick and walk, rarely jog and sometimes drive around a bit?

I want to dodge bullets. I want to teach a child how to spit properly. I want to learn how to make flaming arrows. I want you to play the piano while I sing. I want to go skydiving again. I want you to take me to an arcade and the batting cages. I want to write a story with you. I want a puppy. I want to go camping. I want you to buy me a bunch of paint and for you to give me a big canvas. I want to go to another bug fair. I want to watch chimpanzees look at me looking at them look at me. I want to play the Star Wars Drinking Game. I want you to beat me in chess and to punch me in the chest.

The house is quiet today.

Red Lion.

Beezus Christ - I'm still here. Still not writing, still talking about not writing when I'm writing and still not writing the things that I should be writing.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Ugh. Really?

SMILE/frown

thinkingofmoving

And when I'm here
and when I put words down again
and when sometimes
I think that I know what I'm going to say
it gets lost right before the fingers start to type
even if my mind had already begun to write

I thought, tonight that
for once
it might, be alright
to entertain the notion
of writing elsewhere

And when I'm there
and roots are planted once again
and when I'm thinking that I want to go back

I'll think, that night that
wow
it just might, be alright
to entertain the notion
of finally writing

about the things that I always
meant to write about when

I was there

And I'll be far, far away

from here

LION CUB...

Do you remember how we met?
Silhouetted by the lights...
You were drunk and tried to take a mental picture with your hands
I was thinking about that
And a bunch of other things
Stop looking at the floor...
I need to pour out this expansive dose of words.

I can't explain...
I need to be alone.

I know the timing isn't great
But these things, you just can't plan.
I just need a little time
So I can find myself again
'Cause I get buried underneath
All the things they think you are
And I'm too tired to pretend it doesn't hurt
To be left out

I had a pocket full of dreams
But I gave them all to you
Now I think I want them back
So can you tell me if I'm crazy or confused?
Don't ever change
The way you are
I've never loved anyone more.

A guitar string broke

rightbeforeyoushowedup
and
rightafteryouleftmyhouse

I about threw down
more melodies
more lyrics in my head

soon to be forgotten
is it best
to let dead be dead?

Our odd is pretty odd
so that makes us pretty even
You may be god to my say ten

I meant my satan to my god
my god, my god
times ten

Oh, dog
nehw? nehw?

A string rewinded in my heart
tonight at night
and the heart string you plucked
isbackagainbackagain

ready to played
againandagain
ready to played
againandagain
ready to played
againandagain


andagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagain

re re post

Writing

On pages 9 and 10 of his book Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction, Vonnegut listed eight rules for writing a short story:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things -- reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

Follow the bubbles...

*GASP!*

I broke the surface.

My aching lungs filled with oxygen.

I started walking towards the shore.

To dry land.

Home.

Sailor Ripley + Alec Empire = Nostalgia

I love my cheapy-ass UKULELE but will probably buy a better one by next week. Yet, I suck at playing the guitar - go figure...

"The General Specific"

If your trials end, are really getting you down
We had a close call, I didn't even see it, then another one, I hardly believed it at all.
What the writers say, it means shit to me now.
Plants and animals, we're on a bender when it's 80 degrees, the end of December was coming on,
Only for you and me.
When the showing up ends, going back to the south, where hungry necks that I know, and runnin'
A blender in a lightning storm, disguised as a blessing I'm sure.
Knowing up here, there comes a fork in the road, pants have gotta go, we're on an island on
The fourth of July, looks like the tide is going home.
In time I'd find a little way to your heart, down to the general store for nothing specific,
Gonna wash my bones in the Atlantic shore - only for you and me

Wonder, Alice...

I'd look through that glass but It's already shattered.

Keep on hopping - oops, I meant hoping.

KRS 6

It's nice to help people write
to lead them along
to encourage talented people
to help them do the things
that I battle with every day