phone conversation

It's your face. I don't know what else to say. It's your face.
What do you mean?
Your face. That's why I'm doing this.
That doesn't make any sense at all.
Why? Your face makes me steal cars. Shitty ones. The ones that no one else will steal.
You're an idiot.
True.
My face makes you steal shitty cars?
Also true.
What do you do with the cars?
Torch them. But that's because of your ass.
My face makes you steal. My ass makes you light fires. Is that supposed to win me over?
No. Just make you feel special.
Mostly I feel creeped out.
But you feel something.
Yes.

What does my hair make you do?
Pardon?
My hair. Does it inspire anything?
Your hair... Hmmm. I've never thought about your hair before... buuuuut I suddenly have an urge to...
Yes?
Eat snack cakes until I throw up.
Ew.
You asked.
Keep that one to yourself.
Okay. Your fingernails make me sing Ave Maria. I think it's the star on the right pinky. And your toes - well, I have to control the chicken noises. People might think I'm strange.
They would be right.



What are you thinking about?
Your face.
Any good cars in the parking lot?
It's Walmart.
What time do you get off?
In about an hour.
Can I come with you?
I don't know. With your whole body there, things could get krazy.
Please?
Okay. But only as long as you promise to shake your ass to my Ave Maria Chicken when I torch it.
Deal.

This started with me having Rae Spoon's I'll Be a Ghost For You stuck in my head. Again, you just have to let things go where they want. It definitely needs some work, but it's a start. (I am starting to feel like an absent father with my continued promises to get Wonderland on here. But it will happen ... soon?)

International Women's Day!

"Missing:" A message video by UNICEF about Maternal Mortality from Big Yellow Taxi on Vimeo.

Via Feministing

knowledge and action are important

and for watching, here are puppy pics!

Ginny Cheeto knows how to make people happy.

thursday night in texas

a honkytonk beach bar dive
into the center
of brother's location
lost between dogfights
exes
trying different hims
looking for stable land
knowing again how
to see and understand
everything
i drive
enable
listen
coexist
in the outbursts
in the laughter
waiting for him
to match my him
or for mine to find
his

I love journeys, internal and external. The long one I've been on is making a wide and major turn. I hope that my own experience being lost can be a help or a light on other journeys. So this poem comes from there and from a night out with my brother.

another poem

Three hundred balloons
Yellow Green Blue
Choke the sky

Sounds of laughter
ear-splittingly loud
brighten the sun

A lonely person
stretched on the grass
Whistles at the games

The pain of the
blooming trees
balances the melting snow

I'm visiting my folks for the next few days. I really will work on Wonderland. I will. Hopefully now that I've got a few days away from the 9-5, that'll be easier to accomplish.

for me

give me promises

give me words

give me kindness

give me secrets

give me looks

give me joy

give me promises

I am trying to figure out what goes between those lines, but they are hiding at the moment. So, Reader, now's the time to use your subtext!

dream an infinite dream

She closed her eyes and began the dream.

A meadow of myriad greens waved to her, beckoning her to run in. In the middle, a bushy tailed squirrel paused to contemplate the nut in his mouth. She took off toward it. The cat always told her to have patience, to take her time, be sneakier.

The cat was a bitch.

The squirrel caught sight and smell of the charging mass and tore to and up the first tree he saw.

Why! Don't! You! Come! Down! barked the dog.

NothanksI'mjustfineuphere.

Fine!

She trotted back into the meadow, and a great itch started attacked her back. Her teeth couldn't quite reach, but just ahead was the perfect patch of dirt. Nothing beats the scratching power of your back on the dirt.

My dog is getting old. This is the start of what I imagine Doggy Heaven to be for her.

sick poetry

I've been under
the weather

wonderland
will have to wait

headaches & bellyaches
make travel so

inconvenient

I have not felt well for the last few days. So here's a poem to hold us over.