lava snow comics
waiting for happy delays
stuck inside freedom
Monday, February 8, 2010
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Friday, April 4, 2008
the rhythm is gonna get you
everyday another drop
every day the bucket gets a bit more full
and everyday the corrosive acid bites into the high-grade steel a little bit more,
and the circus act below watches in desperate awe;
munching on popcorn and peanuts, slurping down icy flat soda. or just standing dumb with mouth agape and head tilted back, craning to view the closest thing to the top of the big top. there almost seemed to be a breeze way up there, but the forked-tongue flag is stiff plastic, and does not rock in the wind.
what an act to behold, though- well worth the price of admission. but no one knew what they were getting at the point of purchase. when will the corrosive acid sear through the increasingly wary bucket, which once seemed to be impenetrable, with its sturdy mottled grey appeal? and will people stick around to watch it? and what will happen if and when the acid does burn through the bucket? What will then be used as a quaint carrying vessel if someone decides to make a bunch of chicken?
the riveted minds of the concerned individuals warped senses of time and space, and some began to sweat profusely while others fell asleep. and yet still more, some became paranoid and crept below the stands where the throngs waited, where they could here clanging cell phone calls giving sordid details of the event at hand.
not even the somewhat wild beasts could maintain the interest of the crowd, as the tigers were ignored to point of even seeming as a distraction to the circus crew, who knew nothing of the reckoning this acid bucket would bring. Unfortunately, no one saw the eventual demise of the bucket, which was swallowed in a fit of panic-laden precision by the liquid fury it once contained.
No one saw it even though all eyes had once been fixed upon it- even those who crept below the stands peeked through the gaps of wood and between the stumps of legs to gather new information every possible second. And those that were asleep, well, when I say asleep, and mean asleep with once eye open. Nothing transfixed people before as did this bucket-o-acid.
But they didn't see the acid eat through the carefully constructed steel bucket with an immaculate carrying handle, because as they were watching this death defying high wire act, the tigers, who had been ignored, went around and ate or partially ate everyone. Yes, everyone.
the end.
every day the bucket gets a bit more full
and everyday the corrosive acid bites into the high-grade steel a little bit more,
and the circus act below watches in desperate awe;
munching on popcorn and peanuts, slurping down icy flat soda. or just standing dumb with mouth agape and head tilted back, craning to view the closest thing to the top of the big top. there almost seemed to be a breeze way up there, but the forked-tongue flag is stiff plastic, and does not rock in the wind.
what an act to behold, though- well worth the price of admission. but no one knew what they were getting at the point of purchase. when will the corrosive acid sear through the increasingly wary bucket, which once seemed to be impenetrable, with its sturdy mottled grey appeal? and will people stick around to watch it? and what will happen if and when the acid does burn through the bucket? What will then be used as a quaint carrying vessel if someone decides to make a bunch of chicken?
the riveted minds of the concerned individuals warped senses of time and space, and some began to sweat profusely while others fell asleep. and yet still more, some became paranoid and crept below the stands where the throngs waited, where they could here clanging cell phone calls giving sordid details of the event at hand.
not even the somewhat wild beasts could maintain the interest of the crowd, as the tigers were ignored to point of even seeming as a distraction to the circus crew, who knew nothing of the reckoning this acid bucket would bring. Unfortunately, no one saw the eventual demise of the bucket, which was swallowed in a fit of panic-laden precision by the liquid fury it once contained.
No one saw it even though all eyes had once been fixed upon it- even those who crept below the stands peeked through the gaps of wood and between the stumps of legs to gather new information every possible second. And those that were asleep, well, when I say asleep, and mean asleep with once eye open. Nothing transfixed people before as did this bucket-o-acid.
But they didn't see the acid eat through the carefully constructed steel bucket with an immaculate carrying handle, because as they were watching this death defying high wire act, the tigers, who had been ignored, went around and ate or partially ate everyone. Yes, everyone.
the end.
Friday, March 28, 2008
growing into
linkletters lately
its an old newspaper that no one reads no more
and theres a lot of hungry people still down by the industry places near the rustling cold water
but the worded paper is of no comfort- it brings no news of the day that relates to the sun rising and falling without a drop of hope directed in industry's shadow
people are gawking at the weeds coming up through the cracks, and massive piles of coal lay like wounded soldiers on battered concrete waiting treatment from the nurse practitioner ship docked nearby in bleakly abundant fashion, like a giant old lion-footed tub wastingly waiting in some country yard, weathering elements for no one, setting perfectly useful yet unused.
on a sunday a driver passes through the area and notices opposite this sight, there are tracks with rusting train cars lined up in silent waiting. nothing is pressing. but the rows and rows of track indicate that perhaps their work is not yet over.
its an old newspaper that no one reads no more
and theres a lot of hungry people still down by the industry places near the rustling cold water
but the worded paper is of no comfort- it brings no news of the day that relates to the sun rising and falling without a drop of hope directed in industry's shadow
people are gawking at the weeds coming up through the cracks, and massive piles of coal lay like wounded soldiers on battered concrete waiting treatment from the nurse practitioner ship docked nearby in bleakly abundant fashion, like a giant old lion-footed tub wastingly waiting in some country yard, weathering elements for no one, setting perfectly useful yet unused.
on a sunday a driver passes through the area and notices opposite this sight, there are tracks with rusting train cars lined up in silent waiting. nothing is pressing. but the rows and rows of track indicate that perhaps their work is not yet over.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
busking in the sun
its been awhile from the orange-living-room. been moving around a bit, trying things out here and there. east coast lugging and tropical farming. a milieu of comedy and learning.
more recently i have been trying new things out- seeking to put together some of my interests and make a go out of living a life with a work atmosphere that is interesting and rewarding. finding something creative being most ideal.
more recently i have been trying new things out- seeking to put together some of my interests and make a go out of living a life with a work atmosphere that is interesting and rewarding. finding something creative being most ideal.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
vanishing ireland
Back from the land of Ire. A Honeymoon sweet, and adventure no small feat. Well, we didn't really do anything too spectacular, but we did happen to spend time in a most enjoyable place, and were able to see tons of beautiful landscapes. It wasn't all leprechauns and rainbows, rather, there were mostly just buckets of gold laying around everywhere. But as soon as you approached them they disappeared. After being detoxed for food poisoning on the plane which caused these apparent hallucinations of typical Irish lore, i had a pretty good time. Halfway thought the trip I remembered my name and then I was allowed to drink as a way of celebrating remembering who I was. Sure my newly wedded wife was missing in action, but should that really damper an occasion as auspicious as a honeymoon? I think not.
Anyway it was a really great trip, we explored the area of County Cork in the first week, hitting up places of such exotic names as Baltimore among others. We stayed in a small fishing village called Union Hall or Breantre in Irish for the beginning. We went out and about in Cork just about daily with our little left side of the road wheeling car, to see fields of green, magnificent waterways (some still and calm, some huge expansive and powerful), tiny flowers sprouting frm here and there, stone walls so organic looking that the landscape would be hard to imagine with out them. Well I could imagine the land without them-it would just grassy, and the rocks would be scattered around under the ground. But I really liked the walls. Sometimes they would make nice patterns on a hillside or distant field, like a homemade quilt, showing care and tenderness, as well as color and life, with a story weaved into the creation, sometimes destruction, then rebuilding.
I guess there are a lot of people who go to see where their relatives once lived. Irish diaspora makes the land one of longing for many lives of a foreign born person to Ireland. I found most people had a hint of disdain or annoyance in their voice when asking about the heritage we may be seeking. Some were nice and sincerely helpful though. I guess people get tired of hearing about that stuff. I never brought it up with anyone, except when I was looking at those coasters with the heritage emblems in the store. I think that is an appropriate place to ask. I mean, we all don't get a chance to research every detail of our family history, and even if we tried it would sometimes be impossible to find out some things. But we were on our honeymoon, not looking after geneology. But having the knowledge of a couple names we did go to Joyce Country in Co. Mayo, and on our way there learned from a nice lady that I may have some relations from Cork as well. The puzzle is never finished, but it was interesting to hear that one side of my family was Norman and so I guess invaded Ireland while the other was probably there living for awhile.
Some places we went- Timoleague, Mizen Head, Glandore, Skibbereen, Drombeg Circle, Seven Heads Peninsula, Kilarney Nat. Park, Bantry, County Clare's Kilfenora, Lisdoonvarna, Doolin, Cliffs of Moher, Shannon Estuary ferry, Connemara, Recess, Maum, Cong, Westport in Mayo, up to Balnamore in N. Ireland near Balleymoney, Giant's Causeway, WhiteRock beach, some other beautiful places....
the quaint little towns, friendly people, time we got to spend together, made it all wonderful. The misty mountain air, drizzles near sea coast drives, sun beams from on high, breezes for cooling an overheated soul. twas all fantastic. memories galore we have. memories galore.
they won't disappear when we approach them, we hope.
ireland was unbelievable rural in all its newfound wealth. Among even the larger towns there was a connection to the land and proper consciousness to maintain natural resources and support small farmers and to in general care for the earth. On maps the towns looked large, but when we arrived, a simple drive round the roundabout would have us out in a few minutes. It was refreshing to see. And to feel...
haven't even mentioned the food- delicious, no doubt in part to the great farming here. not as impressed with the potatoes as much as i thought i would be, but the fish and meat were great. bangers and mash and fish and chips were our first meals.....
Anyway it was a really great trip, we explored the area of County Cork in the first week, hitting up places of such exotic names as Baltimore among others. We stayed in a small fishing village called Union Hall or Breantre in Irish for the beginning. We went out and about in Cork just about daily with our little left side of the road wheeling car, to see fields of green, magnificent waterways (some still and calm, some huge expansive and powerful), tiny flowers sprouting frm here and there, stone walls so organic looking that the landscape would be hard to imagine with out them. Well I could imagine the land without them-it would just grassy, and the rocks would be scattered around under the ground. But I really liked the walls. Sometimes they would make nice patterns on a hillside or distant field, like a homemade quilt, showing care and tenderness, as well as color and life, with a story weaved into the creation, sometimes destruction, then rebuilding.
I guess there are a lot of people who go to see where their relatives once lived. Irish diaspora makes the land one of longing for many lives of a foreign born person to Ireland. I found most people had a hint of disdain or annoyance in their voice when asking about the heritage we may be seeking. Some were nice and sincerely helpful though. I guess people get tired of hearing about that stuff. I never brought it up with anyone, except when I was looking at those coasters with the heritage emblems in the store. I think that is an appropriate place to ask. I mean, we all don't get a chance to research every detail of our family history, and even if we tried it would sometimes be impossible to find out some things. But we were on our honeymoon, not looking after geneology. But having the knowledge of a couple names we did go to Joyce Country in Co. Mayo, and on our way there learned from a nice lady that I may have some relations from Cork as well. The puzzle is never finished, but it was interesting to hear that one side of my family was Norman and so I guess invaded Ireland while the other was probably there living for awhile.
Some places we went- Timoleague, Mizen Head, Glandore, Skibbereen, Drombeg Circle, Seven Heads Peninsula, Kilarney Nat. Park, Bantry, County Clare's Kilfenora, Lisdoonvarna, Doolin, Cliffs of Moher, Shannon Estuary ferry, Connemara, Recess, Maum, Cong, Westport in Mayo, up to Balnamore in N. Ireland near Balleymoney, Giant's Causeway, WhiteRock beach, some other beautiful places....
the quaint little towns, friendly people, time we got to spend together, made it all wonderful. The misty mountain air, drizzles near sea coast drives, sun beams from on high, breezes for cooling an overheated soul. twas all fantastic. memories galore we have. memories galore.
they won't disappear when we approach them, we hope.
ireland was unbelievable rural in all its newfound wealth. Among even the larger towns there was a connection to the land and proper consciousness to maintain natural resources and support small farmers and to in general care for the earth. On maps the towns looked large, but when we arrived, a simple drive round the roundabout would have us out in a few minutes. It was refreshing to see. And to feel...
haven't even mentioned the food- delicious, no doubt in part to the great farming here. not as impressed with the potatoes as much as i thought i would be, but the fish and meat were great. bangers and mash and fish and chips were our first meals.....
Saturday, June 30, 2007
moving clouds in moonlight tuck me in
blazenly tired
eyes working but burn for rest
sleepless moments building space for memories to come
excitement
moving into the unknown
a new beginning
with adventure and fun and friendship and love
living
breathing seeing
tasting
listening
hearing
feeling
in no particular order
on deror ni culparrtia
what's next is unsure
but a night's rest is calling me pure
and come what may
i must hit the hay
because a good night's rest, is calling me,
pure
eyes working but burn for rest
sleepless moments building space for memories to come
excitement
moving into the unknown
a new beginning
with adventure and fun and friendship and love
living
breathing seeing
tasting
listening
hearing
feeling
in no particular order
on deror ni culparrtia
what's next is unsure
but a night's rest is calling me pure
and come what may
i must hit the hay
because a good night's rest, is calling me,
pure
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