A ORIGNINAL OF THE TIMES
Ted tried to conform to the times, and tried to communicate with hash tags or whatever you called them to the world. He had few friends that were real, and his family was old photographs in ancient frames.
Technology moved so quickly. Born in the eighties, there was Atari. His family couldn’t afford one. The nineties there were wireless laptops and an email craze. Again his family couldn’t afford any of that. He depended on his teachers and even the janitors to let him use the school computers to write his papers or research. As long as the principal wasn’t included he wasn’t in trouble.
Now communication is abbreviated. People only have only a few characters to say what is going on in their mind. Ted refused to apologize for not abbreviating his poetic language. He even still liked holding books in his hand –cover to cover. As much as Ted tried to be a part of the times, Ted knew he just didn’t belong. The poet inside him was dying in a few characters.
Ted however, realized one day there will always be some kind of a human element. Some may see technology as a perfect solution but there will be a human close behind making a mistake. Ted figured one day this may not be the case in a few years but for now he should cash in on the imperfections.
With this epiphany in his head he decided to get his news for the day on his eight year old laptop he bought used so it was probably older.
He wondered what it was like to be a journalist. Doing the research, maybe going to the event as it is going on, asking questions to a source and what not, only to sum it all up in a few lines. Were we really that busy?
Two stories hit him hard like a fender bender. One was a car bomb in the next forgotten war his country was fighting. The other one was a bank robbery that happened in his home town. The robbers were caught outside. The car bomb killed 6.
Ted lived comfortably, however sometimes it was pay check to pay check. He didn’t necessarily want to be rich. Unlike most people his age and younger he wasn’t sucked into being famous or living the life of a celebrity. Ted felt content in being unknown in being a nobody. Ted was unsure what exactly made him tick, and what was the source of the force that got him up to go to his job.
If it hadn’t been his day off, Ted would have been at work not thinking the way he was that day. It was Catastrophic maybe but Ted wasn’t into violence. He wasn’t into war or guns but maybe he could be an original he thought to himself. The word original rang out like a gun shot in a cave rickesheing around in his brain.
“An original of the times.” Ted said to himself.
Ted, simple minded yet motivated squibbled legibly on a bank withdraw slip. He didn’t know why he held on to them, but today he was glad he had something like this.
It was hot that day, so hot a person would take a shower then go outside start to sweat and then regret taking the shower. Ted put on his winter clothes. A toboggan, scarf, earmuffs, and a large over coat given to him by his dad after his dad died. Finally he put the withdraw slip in his pocket and left for his adventure.
Ted picked this particular apartment because it was close to everything. He could walk to get his groceries, he could walk to work, and he could walk to his bank. That day he walked to his bank in his winter clothes.
On the way to the bank, he noticed the church that he usually ignored. They were having a spaghettis dinner that night to raise money so the youth group could go to Haiti. The youth group was cooking and serving the meal. Ted walked right passed, although there was a part of him that wanted to help out.
Ted arrived the parking lot of the bank; he noticed there was a man behind the wheel of a ford F-150 that wouldn’t start. The engine would gurgle but it wouldn’t turn over. Ted went to the man on the driver side.
“Hey man, I want to help you out. I am going to go inside and ask the bank teller to call a tow truck.” Ted spoke from the gut.
“I guess that is my only option,” said the man as he threw up his hands, surrendering to the bill he knew he will have to pay.
“How about this you stand in front of your car, and when I point to you, wave at the bank teller.”
“Okay,” said the man, “but why are you wearing all that? It’s July.”
“I just got out of the crazy house,” Ted answered,” These are clothes that they gave me to wear.”
Ted nodded and then went to the entrance of the bank. He waved to the man in the truck and went inside. The first thing Ted noticed was the security guard at the door was sleeping. He stepped quietly to the one bank teller which was the second site he noticed.
She was young, very young. It was probably her first day. She was texting her boyfriend about how boring it was there. Meanwhile the person encharge of her training was in the employee lounge nursing a hangover with V8.
Ted looked around and took a deep breath for motivation. He stepped softly to the young bank teller who was about to experience Ted’s catastrophic intentions.
Ted took out the withdraw slip from his pocket. He read it over again, and then slid it with the writing down to the young bank teller. The bank teller sighed for two reasons. One Ted was interrupting her texting with her boyfriend and two bank were trying to do away with withdraw slips.
“Sir,” said the bank teller, “You can just use the atm for withdraws.”
Ted looked her in the eye and noticed a youthful kind of a sparkle that had been gone from him for awhile.
“Just read it sweat heart.”
“Car bomb.” The bank teller said with tears beginning to form in her eyes as she covered her mouth.
“Look outside.” Ted said tranquilly.
He turned around and pointed to the man who was standing in front of his truck. The man in front of his beat up pick up waved and nodded with a concerned look on his face.
The bank teller looked around for her boss. She hadn’t yet been trained for something like this.
The young bank teller started putting stacks of cash on the table. Ted started putting it in his pockets quietly. He even gave her a calming,”Shhhh Shhh.”
The bank teller was in tears.
The bank teller kept putting stacks of bills on the desk. Ted put his hand on her hand holding the cash.
“Baby that’s enough.”
All of Ted’s pockets were full. Suddenly the boss came out and froze after she noticed her new employee in tears. Ted waved and walked quickly to the front doors and opened them.
The boss yelled in fear more than anything else. “Don, Wake up we’re being robbed.”
Don stumbled out of his chair onto the floor while trying to get his gun. Ted pushed the door open forcefully with no idea on where to go. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Ted ran to the man with the broken down pick up and threw a wad of cash. He then ran and yelled back to the man who thought he was stranded.
“To fix pickup with.”
After the statement Don started shooting. He was a sniper in the marines. He shot again and it actually hit Ted in the side. Ted fell as blood ran down.
Ted had no plan now only to go back to his apartment. With the amount of cash he had he could have gone anywhere. Ted wasn’t thinking like that. The only thing on his mind besides the fact he was shot in the lung was Haiti.
Ted staggered and breathed gently as he went across the street to the church. He took a deep breath, and did his best to stand up straight. He wanted to look like he normally would.
The spaghetti dinner wasn’t until six that night. However the kids in the church’s youth group were setting up table and chairs, and cooking the baked spaghetti.
Ted used the wall to hold himself up.
“Something smells good in here!” He yelled which stopped the kids working in the dining hall but not the kitchen.
“We are not serving until six, sir” One of the teenagers said to him.
“I probably won’t be here at six. I would like to give a donation now.”
The statement stopped the other kids from working in the dining hall.
Ted did his best to smile as he fought for breath while throwing his treasure on the floor.
The teenager that spoke before stopped, he noticed something was wrong.
“Mr. Levine! Come quickly!”
A man with a mustache and an apron on stained with spaghetti sauce came out. Mr. Levine looked at the teenage boy first whose eyes were on the man who just emptied out his pockets with stacks of cash.
“Sir would you like me to call you an ambulance?” Mr. Levine asked.
“No,” Ted answered, “I just need to know where the chapel is. I have some skeletons in my closet. Don’t worry about me though I just had a few too many.”
Ted stood with his back on the wall.
Mr. Levine walked to the cash on the floor. Mr. Levine who understood that sometimes miracles didn’t come in pretty packages picked up some of the cash and then pointed to an exit where a hall began.
“Just go down the hall. Don’t go left just keep going straight.”
“Thank you.” Ted gasped for breathe.
“No, thank you.” Mr. Levine said as he offered in hand gestures to help Ted get to the chapel.
Ted walked slowly with a limp to the hall and then disappeared.
Mr. Levine and the other kids surrounded the money and prayed.
“Lord again you give us what we need when we ask. Thank you-“
“Where’d he go?!” Don yelled at the bystanders.
Mr. Levine scanned with his eyes the money, the kids, the cop and then back to the money.
“He’s in the chapel!!” The teenage boy who first saw Ted yelled as he pointed to the hall.
Don rushed to the hallway.
MR. Levine shook his head.
“Keep going straight!” Yell the teenage boy again.
Mr. Levine glared at him like he had daggers in his eyes.
The chapel was modest. There were no pews but folding chairs facing the pulpit which was in front of a painting portrait of Jesus standing over playful children that wanted to be held.
Ted was in the fetal position underneath the portrait. Blood was starting to collect on the floor near Ted. Don saw this and got on his cell phone.
“Subject pitched the money in on- coming traffic, and is now at church. No request for back up.”
A voice said something in static. Don turned off his cell phone.
Don looked at Ted gasping for air.
“I hope you got yourself right with God, because you are dying here tonight.”
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
The business of Medicene- rants and raves
First I would like to say when it came to science classes in high school and college, I was excited to get a C and actaully satisfied with that grade. So many of you who know me probably think I shouldn't tackle this issue, and I agree with you, but it is festering inside me and writing is probably the only way to attack this.
There has been a cure for cancer found in Canada. THis wasn't on the front page of any newspaper, but I do remember hearing about it something like this for a few seconds on the nightly news. Apparrently, pharmecuetical companies want to keep it a secret.
I posted the article on facebook.
I am a vet that receives free health care, and when it came to Obama care I would usually say that if free health care works for the vets it can work for the rest of the country. Pharmeceutical comapnies were advocates for obabmacare. These companies want to get paid for as long as you are alive. Cures aren't profitable.
The cure found in a Canadian University used a drug used for metobolic disorders. I can't explain to you how actually how it works but it sounds exciting. It was almost as if it was under our noses the whole time. The drug was called simple in the article I read.
Curiousity got me again so I looked up "Cure for the comman cold" There is a cure. It was found in a lad in Cambrige University. The scientist who discovered this said it can be in the form of a nasal spray.
Science is doing it's job, but the business of science or mediaction is very concerning to me. Why I haven't we heard about either of these cures? I consider myself democrat but... Maybe we should do away with lobbyist who seem to pay off politicians or limit the amount of money they can put into pushing their personal issues. No more steak dinners and exotic trips. We need a government that can represent our well being.
Everybody has been affected by cancer rather it was you, a family member, friend, or friend of a firend. Everyone has certainly be affected by something as simple as the comman cold. They have found the cure for both, and it hasn't been given to the people.
I keep thinking about the pharmecuetical community advertising budget. You've seen the commercials on tv. They seem so pleasant enough even uplifting, but when it comes to the side affects it is in a whisper.
I am not a science minded person. I am all about making money but when it affects people's lives in the negative, I can't say I support it.
The lines are being draw between the people, politicans, and corproate america. How will you vote? I persoanlly don't know.
There has been a cure for cancer found in Canada. THis wasn't on the front page of any newspaper, but I do remember hearing about it something like this for a few seconds on the nightly news. Apparrently, pharmecuetical companies want to keep it a secret.
I posted the article on facebook.
I am a vet that receives free health care, and when it came to Obama care I would usually say that if free health care works for the vets it can work for the rest of the country. Pharmeceutical comapnies were advocates for obabmacare. These companies want to get paid for as long as you are alive. Cures aren't profitable.
The cure found in a Canadian University used a drug used for metobolic disorders. I can't explain to you how actually how it works but it sounds exciting. It was almost as if it was under our noses the whole time. The drug was called simple in the article I read.
Curiousity got me again so I looked up "Cure for the comman cold" There is a cure. It was found in a lad in Cambrige University. The scientist who discovered this said it can be in the form of a nasal spray.
Science is doing it's job, but the business of science or mediaction is very concerning to me. Why I haven't we heard about either of these cures? I consider myself democrat but... Maybe we should do away with lobbyist who seem to pay off politicians or limit the amount of money they can put into pushing their personal issues. No more steak dinners and exotic trips. We need a government that can represent our well being.
Everybody has been affected by cancer rather it was you, a family member, friend, or friend of a firend. Everyone has certainly be affected by something as simple as the comman cold. They have found the cure for both, and it hasn't been given to the people.
I keep thinking about the pharmecuetical community advertising budget. You've seen the commercials on tv. They seem so pleasant enough even uplifting, but when it comes to the side affects it is in a whisper.
I am not a science minded person. I am all about making money but when it affects people's lives in the negative, I can't say I support it.
The lines are being draw between the people, politicans, and corproate america. How will you vote? I persoanlly don't know.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Men of Conviction
Men of Conviction
He lay dying on the bed so extravagantly placed in his room. It could have been used for royalty. Struggling to reach for a glass of water, the sweat poured down his forehead with every finger touching the glass. Slowly he propped his head up to sip some of the clear liquid dribbled down his chin on his chest. It was his maid who took the glass from him to put it back on the nightstand. Everyone close to him (rather he would admit it or not) was present: his girlfriend, her stepson, and the writer of his will.
His son was running late. There was a void to be filled before he passed-before the future was determined without him being there. Andrew, his son, left when he was 17 years of age with the heart of a poetic conquistador. The man remembered how his son was on the last day. He was looking around at what was then the modest wealth of his father, and wanted to earn his own along with his own life. Andrew was the spitting image of how his father was at that age, and like any parent, he wanted to protect his son from the tortures life brought. His experience now had brought him to his deathbed, and there wasn’t enough money in the world to save his life now. The last time they saw each other was Andrew’s mother funeral. The bitterness was still there. They hardly spoke to each other.
“Can I get something, dear?” His girlfriend asked already holding the tears for the funeral.
“In ten years you have never asked me that question. No, but thanks for being so kind.” His words were long and drawn out in sighs.
His girlfriend leaned against the wall staring at her the man waiting to die.
“We hadn’t had breakfast, Bernie. Would you like Lolita to make us breakfast?” The stepson asked.
The maid stood at attention waiting for the request.
“Lolita is fine here. If you’re hungry you can fix your own breakfast.”
The stepson shrank back to the wall with his mother, beside them was an original Picasso hanging on the wall in a decorative frame.
The man breathed steadily as he gazed upon the writer of his will. “Thank you for waiting. My son-“
He was interrupted by a figure dressed in layers from the could; his face chapped, and eyes resembling that of alley cats when a car flashes its high beams. This one didn’t flea but felt uneasy at the riches that could only be seen at a distance in his wanderings.
“Well, dad I would be lying if I said you looked well. Why did you wait this long to write the will?”
“Ahh you know me,” he talked in last breathes, forcing everyone in the room to move closer, “always waiting to the last minute. What have you been doing with yourself, Andrew?”
“I was laid off at the factory but I got a job as a full time window washer. It doesn’t pay as well but still it was opened.”
“I’ve had a few factory jobs back in the day.” His eyes fixed proudly on his son.
Andrew’s eyelids started to fill with tears. His instinctively held them back with a swallow. “Dad it has been awhile.”
He patted a place beside him on the bed. Andrew stepped softly with his back to his girlfriend and the stepson. “I tell ya dad, all this isn’t you.”
He smiled then coughed up a last laugh. “No shit.”
“That’s his son?” The stepson whispered in amazement.
The wife nodded rubbing her temples.
“Son have you found anything out there on your own.”
“Yeah I have. Some were just born with the means to fog up the windows so they can’t see out, and you can’t see in. Those are the one’s without the fullview.”
“Son I haven’t been able to tell ya much in life but… it isn’t where you’re going but how you get there. Be satisfied with what you got.”
Andrew’s father turned away from his son, his girlfriend, and stepson. A single tear broke through the hardened surface of his face, his eyes darkened, as he exhaled the last of his insight to his son. He was gone.
The writer of the will got up from his chair, and surveyed the body. He walked over and took the dead man’s pulse. He looked at Andrew.
“By law you get the estate of Bernard T. Forsyth.”
“Bastard.” Andrew whispered. Andrew wanted to get there on his own.
He lay dying on the bed so extravagantly placed in his room. It could have been used for royalty. Struggling to reach for a glass of water, the sweat poured down his forehead with every finger touching the glass. Slowly he propped his head up to sip some of the clear liquid dribbled down his chin on his chest. It was his maid who took the glass from him to put it back on the nightstand. Everyone close to him (rather he would admit it or not) was present: his girlfriend, her stepson, and the writer of his will.
His son was running late. There was a void to be filled before he passed-before the future was determined without him being there. Andrew, his son, left when he was 17 years of age with the heart of a poetic conquistador. The man remembered how his son was on the last day. He was looking around at what was then the modest wealth of his father, and wanted to earn his own along with his own life. Andrew was the spitting image of how his father was at that age, and like any parent, he wanted to protect his son from the tortures life brought. His experience now had brought him to his deathbed, and there wasn’t enough money in the world to save his life now. The last time they saw each other was Andrew’s mother funeral. The bitterness was still there. They hardly spoke to each other.
“Can I get something, dear?” His girlfriend asked already holding the tears for the funeral.
“In ten years you have never asked me that question. No, but thanks for being so kind.” His words were long and drawn out in sighs.
His girlfriend leaned against the wall staring at her the man waiting to die.
“We hadn’t had breakfast, Bernie. Would you like Lolita to make us breakfast?” The stepson asked.
The maid stood at attention waiting for the request.
“Lolita is fine here. If you’re hungry you can fix your own breakfast.”
The stepson shrank back to the wall with his mother, beside them was an original Picasso hanging on the wall in a decorative frame.
The man breathed steadily as he gazed upon the writer of his will. “Thank you for waiting. My son-“
He was interrupted by a figure dressed in layers from the could; his face chapped, and eyes resembling that of alley cats when a car flashes its high beams. This one didn’t flea but felt uneasy at the riches that could only be seen at a distance in his wanderings.
“Well, dad I would be lying if I said you looked well. Why did you wait this long to write the will?”
“Ahh you know me,” he talked in last breathes, forcing everyone in the room to move closer, “always waiting to the last minute. What have you been doing with yourself, Andrew?”
“I was laid off at the factory but I got a job as a full time window washer. It doesn’t pay as well but still it was opened.”
“I’ve had a few factory jobs back in the day.” His eyes fixed proudly on his son.
Andrew’s eyelids started to fill with tears. His instinctively held them back with a swallow. “Dad it has been awhile.”
He patted a place beside him on the bed. Andrew stepped softly with his back to his girlfriend and the stepson. “I tell ya dad, all this isn’t you.”
He smiled then coughed up a last laugh. “No shit.”
“That’s his son?” The stepson whispered in amazement.
The wife nodded rubbing her temples.
“Son have you found anything out there on your own.”
“Yeah I have. Some were just born with the means to fog up the windows so they can’t see out, and you can’t see in. Those are the one’s without the fullview.”
“Son I haven’t been able to tell ya much in life but… it isn’t where you’re going but how you get there. Be satisfied with what you got.”
Andrew’s father turned away from his son, his girlfriend, and stepson. A single tear broke through the hardened surface of his face, his eyes darkened, as he exhaled the last of his insight to his son. He was gone.
The writer of the will got up from his chair, and surveyed the body. He walked over and took the dead man’s pulse. He looked at Andrew.
“By law you get the estate of Bernard T. Forsyth.”
“Bastard.” Andrew whispered. Andrew wanted to get there on his own.
the unfinished race
You Should always do what you love, if you can get paid for it that is ideal but chances are that isn't going to happen.
When I was sending poetry off on a regular basis, and usually getting rejected, I figured to pay the bills I should work in restarants. Working in restaurants you will either get a free meal or beer or some kind of employee discount. Sometimes art is a game of survivor. Sometimes the only optimism is that stream of consciences poem that makes your life makes since that is rejected by a magazine or publishing company. You have to have thick skin. You have to use that rejection as fuel- fuel to wake up, fuel to go to work, and fuel to believe that something is going to go your way. Sometimes art is a race without a finish line. Should you pace yourself, should you run as hard as you can or just walk? It all depends on how inspiration falls on you on any particular day.
You should never quit. For me I try to always write even if I don't post it on this blog like my profile says I have time on my hands.
If it wasn't for the army, I wouldn't be able to write as often as I do. I kind of think if you consider yourself an artist, the military isn't for you. Kerouac got kicked out of the NAvy then joined the merchant marines. I have no idea what the merchant marines do, do you? Then there is Hitler. I don't think I have to explain hitler.
In basic training, I hesitated but I did mention that I wrote poetry to another soldier. He told me the army will mess me up. MY answer to that is you can't keep a good man down.
Secondly get some kind of eduaction and if you can keep the textbooks for future reference then that is good. I still have my psycology textbook. I got a C in the class.
To recap, if you have a creative side, to pay the rent and the bills work somewhere that you can get food or other necsities for free. Don't join the military unless you think you have a tolerance for rules and excessive regulations, and an artist's job is never over.
When I was sending poetry off on a regular basis, and usually getting rejected, I figured to pay the bills I should work in restarants. Working in restaurants you will either get a free meal or beer or some kind of employee discount. Sometimes art is a game of survivor. Sometimes the only optimism is that stream of consciences poem that makes your life makes since that is rejected by a magazine or publishing company. You have to have thick skin. You have to use that rejection as fuel- fuel to wake up, fuel to go to work, and fuel to believe that something is going to go your way. Sometimes art is a race without a finish line. Should you pace yourself, should you run as hard as you can or just walk? It all depends on how inspiration falls on you on any particular day.
You should never quit. For me I try to always write even if I don't post it on this blog like my profile says I have time on my hands.
If it wasn't for the army, I wouldn't be able to write as often as I do. I kind of think if you consider yourself an artist, the military isn't for you. Kerouac got kicked out of the NAvy then joined the merchant marines. I have no idea what the merchant marines do, do you? Then there is Hitler. I don't think I have to explain hitler.
In basic training, I hesitated but I did mention that I wrote poetry to another soldier. He told me the army will mess me up. MY answer to that is you can't keep a good man down.
Secondly get some kind of eduaction and if you can keep the textbooks for future reference then that is good. I still have my psycology textbook. I got a C in the class.
To recap, if you have a creative side, to pay the rent and the bills work somewhere that you can get food or other necsities for free. Don't join the military unless you think you have a tolerance for rules and excessive regulations, and an artist's job is never over.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
The Decemberists Hazards of Love
a friend put the song The Rake's Song on a mix cd. After that I wanted to hear more. I went out bought two Decemberists albums not really knowing what to look for. I bought Castaways and Cutouts and another one that I forgot the title. Both were on the KIll Rock Stars label which discovered Elliot Smith.That is why I picked these two albums up.
I liked both albums but I listen to Castaways and Cutouts more. However, I was discourage that Rake's Song wasn't on either of them.
I bought another Decemberists album at starbucks. That one is called The KIng is Dead. Not as mememoriable as the next Decemberists album I bought a month later, The hazards of Love.
The hazards of love has Rake's Song on it. I should say is a near perfect album.
At starbucks The king is dead was described as being folk core which I thought was intriguing. Never heard of folk core.
Hazards of love is on Capital and it came out in 2009. I call it a near perfect album because it has the different styles music I enjoy listening to. Maybe considered folk rock with a wide vareity of vocalist, acousitc guitar riffs that make you want to move, and electric distorted guitars that make you step lively. Epic.
I listened to the album during hurricane Irene, and some how it fit the wind display outside. I kind of felt like I could handle anything. So yes if you haven't gotten into the Decemberists already or debating rather you should buy Hazards of Love.
I liked both albums but I listen to Castaways and Cutouts more. However, I was discourage that Rake's Song wasn't on either of them.
I bought another Decemberists album at starbucks. That one is called The KIng is Dead. Not as mememoriable as the next Decemberists album I bought a month later, The hazards of Love.
The hazards of love has Rake's Song on it. I should say is a near perfect album.
At starbucks The king is dead was described as being folk core which I thought was intriguing. Never heard of folk core.
Hazards of love is on Capital and it came out in 2009. I call it a near perfect album because it has the different styles music I enjoy listening to. Maybe considered folk rock with a wide vareity of vocalist, acousitc guitar riffs that make you want to move, and electric distorted guitars that make you step lively. Epic.
I listened to the album during hurricane Irene, and some how it fit the wind display outside. I kind of felt like I could handle anything. So yes if you haven't gotten into the Decemberists already or debating rather you should buy Hazards of Love.
Irene journal entry
The rain isn't even blowing in on my balcony. I wish I could be poetic about the rain, but it is nothing new. There were a few light flickers from the power. My lights are off but my stereo is on. Maybe the worse hasn't happened yet.
I am concerned about my downstairs neighbor. Whenever there it rains hard like this there is flooding on her front door step. I don't know if water goes in or not. She has a dog and I have Malcolm so that is a concern. She has a daughter so even if I go down there and knock on her door she might not be there. She might be at her daughter's place. Then there is the fact I don't want to get wet.
Yesterday they said 2 to 4 inches. Dad called and said now they are calling for six inches.
The wind has picked up, and I hear sirens. Malcolm is probably under the bed.
Shoot! I'll go. I will ask my neighbor...
Okay I did it. She didn't even open the door. I asked. She said she has to go to work, maybe she was dressing. But I offered.
I don't think it will get to bad.
Now listening to MIles Davis. The album called Round about Midnight. The storm isn't that bad. NOw there is no wind. Maybe a steady rain which is probably worse then a short hard rain.
Yesterday the weather man said 100% chance of rain today. Never saw 100% before. It is good to see they are right sometimes.
People who say jazz is boring never heard it during a storm.
I brought in my baclony furniture and this it.
If I was a beer drinker this would be a good time to drink a beer and enjoy people's company. I had a protein shake, and I have my balcony furniture.
It is now 3:15pm in the afternoon and the weather channel says the rain won't stop untill 12pm in the afternoon tomorrow. I figure there will be flooding. I think it is slowing up so maybe New Jersey and New York won't be hit has hard.
My firend's wedding is today, in Amelia. Wonder if they still had it. I called him last night. He, of course, didn't answer and I know he will not return my call. THis usually happens. I regret not going but I don't think I could hack it.
2011 has been earth shattering literary and earthquake, hurricane, and the second in command of Al-Queda dead. Crazy Week.
Night time now...
Seeing things, aperson and cursers where they're not suppose to be. Wonder if they had the wedding. The storm is just a ripple in the ocean, compared to my typcial day. I heard the voice of a friend outside my door. He was getting married today. It disapeared when I opened my door and there was no one there. The cat is back out. I guess he isn't scared anymore. I have a paranoid suspicion that there will be looters. Seems like the thing to do nowadays. I have a tv, a labtop, and a knife. The lights are off, facing the ineviatble fact, the power may go out. This storm doesn't compare to the symptoms buzzing like an annoying fly in my head. This illness makes things worse then they actually are. Thank God the storm wasn't so bad.
UPDATE: The power it still on listening to the black keys.
I am concerned about my downstairs neighbor. Whenever there it rains hard like this there is flooding on her front door step. I don't know if water goes in or not. She has a dog and I have Malcolm so that is a concern. She has a daughter so even if I go down there and knock on her door she might not be there. She might be at her daughter's place. Then there is the fact I don't want to get wet.
Yesterday they said 2 to 4 inches. Dad called and said now they are calling for six inches.
The wind has picked up, and I hear sirens. Malcolm is probably under the bed.
Shoot! I'll go. I will ask my neighbor...
Okay I did it. She didn't even open the door. I asked. She said she has to go to work, maybe she was dressing. But I offered.
I don't think it will get to bad.
Now listening to MIles Davis. The album called Round about Midnight. The storm isn't that bad. NOw there is no wind. Maybe a steady rain which is probably worse then a short hard rain.
Yesterday the weather man said 100% chance of rain today. Never saw 100% before. It is good to see they are right sometimes.
People who say jazz is boring never heard it during a storm.
I brought in my baclony furniture and this it.
If I was a beer drinker this would be a good time to drink a beer and enjoy people's company. I had a protein shake, and I have my balcony furniture.
It is now 3:15pm in the afternoon and the weather channel says the rain won't stop untill 12pm in the afternoon tomorrow. I figure there will be flooding. I think it is slowing up so maybe New Jersey and New York won't be hit has hard.
My firend's wedding is today, in Amelia. Wonder if they still had it. I called him last night. He, of course, didn't answer and I know he will not return my call. THis usually happens. I regret not going but I don't think I could hack it.
2011 has been earth shattering literary and earthquake, hurricane, and the second in command of Al-Queda dead. Crazy Week.
Night time now...
Seeing things, aperson and cursers where they're not suppose to be. Wonder if they had the wedding. The storm is just a ripple in the ocean, compared to my typcial day. I heard the voice of a friend outside my door. He was getting married today. It disapeared when I opened my door and there was no one there. The cat is back out. I guess he isn't scared anymore. I have a paranoid suspicion that there will be looters. Seems like the thing to do nowadays. I have a tv, a labtop, and a knife. The lights are off, facing the ineviatble fact, the power may go out. This storm doesn't compare to the symptoms buzzing like an annoying fly in my head. This illness makes things worse then they actually are. Thank God the storm wasn't so bad.
UPDATE: The power it still on listening to the black keys.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
purple pickup freewrite
purple like a recovering black eye
beaten with less than quarter of gas
will never make that cross country trip again.
roars with his foot on the accelerator
no woman in their right mind
would want to cruise as a passenger
a soldier's first truck
a bent fender above the rest
still hums like that song
stuck in your head
that you can't think of the title
like the army maybe beaten once
but comes back stronger.
slept in, cried in, in lovable rage
smiles when driven and frowns when parked
resurrected by auto salvage romantics
beaten with less than quarter of gas
will never make that cross country trip again.
roars with his foot on the accelerator
no woman in their right mind
would want to cruise as a passenger
a soldier's first truck
a bent fender above the rest
still hums like that song
stuck in your head
that you can't think of the title
like the army maybe beaten once
but comes back stronger.
slept in, cried in, in lovable rage
smiles when driven and frowns when parked
resurrected by auto salvage romantics
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
God's presence after castrophy
Psalm 91 2-5
This is declared by the Lord: He alone is my refuge; my place of safety ; he is my God, and I am trusting him. For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from the fatal plague. He will shield you with his wings. He will shelter you with his feathers. His faithfull promises are your armor and protection
Think of the current natural disasters and 9-11. What comes after those tragdeies. Unity a real since of unity.
I watched a documentary that took place after 9-11. Mayor Juiliani went to yankee stadium. Some of you probably hate baseball, but for that game New Yorkers were unified. One New Yorker even said she felt God in Yankee stadium. So the presence of God was there. It didn't mention Fenway. I am sure God had great seats. God wants unity he doesn't want castastrophy.New Yorkers gathered even though an attack could possibly happen.
In Joplin, Missouri there was a heavy storm. Depsite the storm a school started on time. I saw it on the nightly news. Hugs were given all around. I even saw some smiles. This was for the children.
My mom says, "WHen life gives you lemons; you make lemonade.
How about another verse?
I can do all things in Christ that strengths me.
This is declared by the Lord: He alone is my refuge; my place of safety ; he is my God, and I am trusting him. For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from the fatal plague. He will shield you with his wings. He will shelter you with his feathers. His faithfull promises are your armor and protection
Think of the current natural disasters and 9-11. What comes after those tragdeies. Unity a real since of unity.
I watched a documentary that took place after 9-11. Mayor Juiliani went to yankee stadium. Some of you probably hate baseball, but for that game New Yorkers were unified. One New Yorker even said she felt God in Yankee stadium. So the presence of God was there. It didn't mention Fenway. I am sure God had great seats. God wants unity he doesn't want castastrophy.New Yorkers gathered even though an attack could possibly happen.
In Joplin, Missouri there was a heavy storm. Depsite the storm a school started on time. I saw it on the nightly news. Hugs were given all around. I even saw some smiles. This was for the children.
My mom says, "WHen life gives you lemons; you make lemonade.
How about another verse?
I can do all things in Christ that strengths me.
2 Corintians 12:6-10 (New Living translation)
I have pleanty to boast about and would be no fool in doing it, because I would be telling the truth. But I won't do it I don't want anyone to think more highly of me than what they can actually see in my life and my message, even though I have received wonderful revelations from God. But to keep me from getting to puffed up, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from satan to torment me and keep me from getting proud. Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, "My gracious favor is all you need! My power works best in your weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weakness, so that the power of christ may work through me.
Are you boe-legged do you have zits on your face, are you to skinny, to fat, to short? Paul found out from God that he should celebrate our weaknesses. God will give us strength in our weakness. I anything I feel the need to cry out, "Bring it on!"
Psalms 23
The Lord is my shepherd; I have everything I need...
Are you boe-legged do you have zits on your face, are you to skinny, to fat, to short? Paul found out from God that he should celebrate our weaknesses. God will give us strength in our weakness. I anything I feel the need to cry out, "Bring it on!"
Psalms 23
The Lord is my shepherd; I have everything I need...
Will the meek inherit the world?
The meek sit back in their worlds
with no invitation to the outsider
with a refreshed voice for action
The outsider invites himself
the stares and different language
makes the outsider deduce his new surroundings
with good intentions
the meek fall silent to listen
but they feel it is tedious to change
The meek question the outsider
the outsider questions the meek
the meek float on and settle
and the outsider is alone with his experiences
with no invitation to the outsider
with a refreshed voice for action
The outsider invites himself
the stares and different language
makes the outsider deduce his new surroundings
with good intentions
the meek fall silent to listen
but they feel it is tedious to change
The meek question the outsider
the outsider questions the meek
the meek float on and settle
and the outsider is alone with his experiences
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Criminals potential
I just saw the last part of the movie Catch Me if You Can. Leonardo's character was captured all the way in France and then he took a plane back to the States under FBI supervision. He escaped through the laboratory through the toilet. The Fbi later captured him again. He served jail time for his crimes which he should have. Later Tom Hanks character saw potential in him. Caprios character later was employed by the FBI for check fraud. With Caprio's character's personal experience in the field he was able to put alot of people away.
Npr repoted on a hacker. Hacking was his passion. He would study enough so he could speak the lingo and then hack into places. His persuit wasn't for finacial gain so to speak but for knowledge.
I think of types of crimes not with crimes by the crimninally insane. I think that is different. A criminal goes to jail and chances are he becomes a better criminal. We should use his knowledge and give him a job using his or her knowledge of the very crime he commited.
There are exceptions. Maybe we should always ask why not just for the motive but ask what was their passion to do their crimes.
After their jail time maybe there passion could be helping people.
If you are smart, you will always be smart. There is potential there just because of a few bad decsions doesn't take that way.
Npr repoted on a hacker. Hacking was his passion. He would study enough so he could speak the lingo and then hack into places. His persuit wasn't for finacial gain so to speak but for knowledge.
I think of types of crimes not with crimes by the crimninally insane. I think that is different. A criminal goes to jail and chances are he becomes a better criminal. We should use his knowledge and give him a job using his or her knowledge of the very crime he commited.
There are exceptions. Maybe we should always ask why not just for the motive but ask what was their passion to do their crimes.
After their jail time maybe there passion could be helping people.
If you are smart, you will always be smart. There is potential there just because of a few bad decsions doesn't take that way.
Update
Some of you work Sundays so you can't go to church. Area 10 Faith Community has a blog that posts sermons. They are very good. The one I listened to inspired me to write today. When my family is in South Carolina we listen to K-love which is a radio station around in the U.S. However, we do not get it in Richmond. There is a contemporary christian station here at 90.5 on your radio. You can get devotions daily by email too. Most of them are free. My dad has three of them. You can still worship. I understand finding a church is difficult but with modern day technology you can worship in your free time in the comforts of your own home. As far as offering goes look into samaeritan's purse. They all often going to places like Haiti or Joplin, Missouri. It is inspiring to see what they are doing with your money.
Finding inspiration
Ever had one of those Blah days. Maybe you stood in the kitchen wanting something to eat but nothing sounds good but you are still hungry and uninspired. I think having a blah day is the least of our troubles with the unemployment rate and economy. Have you ever been so low that you don't know what is going to happen next or you don't know how you will get over this. You need motivation or inspiration. In the words of MIke Ness you need someone to "take away this ball and chain." (yes I just did that)
I remember growing up in a Southern Baptist Church when a popular christian band came out with a single. "Jesus freak." The band was D.C. talk. I was already being called a freak in school so I couldn't say I liked the song then.
But when that song came on during a function the "Jesus freaks" went nuts. I thought they were acting like fools as I just stood in my little corner feeling sorry for myself for whatever reason.
One of the lyrics goes," I don't even care if they call me a Jesus freak..."
I couldn't beleive it. They didn't even care that in my judgement I was calling them freaks. The spirit was written on their faces. They had issues like anyone else like in school and relationships but they were positive and smiling when they are in church while one of my sunday school teachers jokingly said how she would bring me a pillow so I would have an easier time sleeping.
As a non beleiver then I felt like I couldn't relate and I didn't like the cheerfulness. At a young age I was already cinical towards the church in general. But if my parents wouldn't have dragged me to go to church the seed of the lord wouldn't have been planted.
I f you would called me a spoiled brat then I would agree with you.
You know what I had to do? I had to hit bottom to ask fro help. I had to sleep in my used dodge pick up in a churches parking lot in other words to ask for help.
I had been trying to do it on my own for a long time and obviously it wasn't working.
I asked God for help I told him in an subservient way I was in his hands.
I stayed in that parking lot for about a week when a man told me I couldn't stay there. I personally thought that was odd being at a church and all. I left with an idea on how to get home.
I am not going to tell you what I did but since then I have asked for forgivness. It was inspired by survivor.
I got back home, and my parents welcomed me with open arms. They even game me a meal.
Then the phone rang. To sum it up I got help I had to be placed in hand cuffs. I was sitting in a hand cuffs in parent's rocking chair they have on the front porch, calm. I was tired of fighting whatever it was I was fighting. I prayed to God and if this was how it was going to be then I was all in.
I got help. I am not homeless and it had been along journey. Answered prayers sometimes don't happen over night. We must follow God as if we are blind or a child. You know that long string that children hang on to as they leave their classroom. Well, without that string God only knows where they would go.
Back to inspiration Don't hit bottom to find it. It is easy to cry out to God when you have nothing or have nothing going for you. Ask for God when you are successful when you are together and satisfied. God will smile upon you. God will be with us regardless of our economic status. Follow him and you will eventally crave his love.
I will leave it alone with this, because (judging by my stats) you don't like when I talk about Jesus. Those kids in my first church were inspired. It was as if they had that extra boost to go one. At the time I had no idea why I was different from them. You know how proffessional athletes have that extra boost that is usually steroids. Well Christian have an extra boost that will not show up in a drug test.
I remember growing up in a Southern Baptist Church when a popular christian band came out with a single. "Jesus freak." The band was D.C. talk. I was already being called a freak in school so I couldn't say I liked the song then.
But when that song came on during a function the "Jesus freaks" went nuts. I thought they were acting like fools as I just stood in my little corner feeling sorry for myself for whatever reason.
One of the lyrics goes," I don't even care if they call me a Jesus freak..."
I couldn't beleive it. They didn't even care that in my judgement I was calling them freaks. The spirit was written on their faces. They had issues like anyone else like in school and relationships but they were positive and smiling when they are in church while one of my sunday school teachers jokingly said how she would bring me a pillow so I would have an easier time sleeping.
As a non beleiver then I felt like I couldn't relate and I didn't like the cheerfulness. At a young age I was already cinical towards the church in general. But if my parents wouldn't have dragged me to go to church the seed of the lord wouldn't have been planted.
I f you would called me a spoiled brat then I would agree with you.
You know what I had to do? I had to hit bottom to ask fro help. I had to sleep in my used dodge pick up in a churches parking lot in other words to ask for help.
I had been trying to do it on my own for a long time and obviously it wasn't working.
I asked God for help I told him in an subservient way I was in his hands.
I stayed in that parking lot for about a week when a man told me I couldn't stay there. I personally thought that was odd being at a church and all. I left with an idea on how to get home.
I am not going to tell you what I did but since then I have asked for forgivness. It was inspired by survivor.
I got back home, and my parents welcomed me with open arms. They even game me a meal.
Then the phone rang. To sum it up I got help I had to be placed in hand cuffs. I was sitting in a hand cuffs in parent's rocking chair they have on the front porch, calm. I was tired of fighting whatever it was I was fighting. I prayed to God and if this was how it was going to be then I was all in.
I got help. I am not homeless and it had been along journey. Answered prayers sometimes don't happen over night. We must follow God as if we are blind or a child. You know that long string that children hang on to as they leave their classroom. Well, without that string God only knows where they would go.
Back to inspiration Don't hit bottom to find it. It is easy to cry out to God when you have nothing or have nothing going for you. Ask for God when you are successful when you are together and satisfied. God will smile upon you. God will be with us regardless of our economic status. Follow him and you will eventally crave his love.
I will leave it alone with this, because (judging by my stats) you don't like when I talk about Jesus. Those kids in my first church were inspired. It was as if they had that extra boost to go one. At the time I had no idea why I was different from them. You know how proffessional athletes have that extra boost that is usually steroids. Well Christian have an extra boost that will not show up in a drug test.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Update When your faith is tested
Maybe I put myself in the wrong situations. If anything God doesn't want you to stay inside. There is a war and we are soldiers.
Thursday night, I was talking with a woman. She discussed a new documentary that Steven Hawking was in. Mr. Hawking said how when the universe was being formed there was no time so how could there be God. He also said you might as well live it up because you are going to rot in the ground.
I thought of genesis, although I didn't quote scripture. I told her this was not going to stop me from praying. She suddenly became agnostic. Maybe alittle bit of witnessing but it could have been better if my brain could memorize.
Then there was last night. I was being tested. I probably didn't do what I was suppose to do, but I thanked God for letting me leave alone. When I was willing to pay for her cab that was just a random thought put in my head.
That and almost getting into a fight was almost a blessing. God was reminding me why I don't like the bar scene. God doesn't want us to stay inside but I think I do need a new place to hangout.
Thursday night, I was talking with a woman. She discussed a new documentary that Steven Hawking was in. Mr. Hawking said how when the universe was being formed there was no time so how could there be God. He also said you might as well live it up because you are going to rot in the ground.
I thought of genesis, although I didn't quote scripture. I told her this was not going to stop me from praying. She suddenly became agnostic. Maybe alittle bit of witnessing but it could have been better if my brain could memorize.
Then there was last night. I was being tested. I probably didn't do what I was suppose to do, but I thanked God for letting me leave alone. When I was willing to pay for her cab that was just a random thought put in my head.
That and almost getting into a fight was almost a blessing. God was reminding me why I don't like the bar scene. God doesn't want us to stay inside but I think I do need a new place to hangout.
Friday Night Freewrite
Maybe I would be content in just throwing around the baseball with gloves or just play the guitar. One grandpa was a rolling stone. I never met him, but I am sure he chose drinking over the stronger founddation that comes with family.
At innsbrook again. I saw an attractive woman who needed help being stood up. I stood her up, me being between her and the bar. I got her some water. The alchohol is a bad influence but it is hard for me to ignore it. We danced while another one dance better with her. Her daughter was there questioning my intentions. Maybe I was questioning my own. We went to another place because her daughter may have left her purse in this particular bar with live music. She told me in so many words that her daughter was her ride. She was drunk and the other guy followed. I got the boucners attention and was willing to give her a tewenty for the cab ride home. The next thing I knew she was leaving with the other guy. Women.
I was at another place at innsbrook when I left the non smoking piano dual to bum cigarette with a girl.
Her name was Breeze and she told me her life story. She told me how she was nomianted prom queeen and how she was beaten. Then she said how she went up with the same girl for some kind of sporting event. This girl the other girl busted her knee in some flag football game. She still had some issues with it. She was my age now 30.
Suddenly her husband knocked me aside. I didn't know what the deal was because all I wanted was to bum a cigarette. I got the story.
"Are you picking up on my wife?" He asked.
"She bum me out a ciagerette."
I went on to say that she was ttalking to me about prom queen.
When there is the alchohol there is no real insghts. He wanted to fight me. I was reminded of the south Roanoke kids the older once who made fun of my speech imediamate. I stood up to him.
"We can't fight here. Do you know where coopermill is?"
He said yes.
"We can do it there." I said. I didn't back down.
He changed his mind. Didn't seem as bold.
He then wanted me to play along. I left with him still knowing where I lived.
I went to another bar that was closing. I had a shot of whiskey or maybe two with some water. I flirted with the 21 year old bar tender. Finally I left.
I was then reminded of Bobby in middle school. In middle school kids were split by honors and acedomics. Honors was the smart kids and acedimics weren't. I went to elementary school with Bobby and didn't understand why he was with lower level.
I got the feeling he was picked on. espically one day when five or maybe seven black kids were surrounding him saying What's up with you?
Bobby stood up to them, considered a nerd by the society, the very society that saw me as freak. He stood up to them asnwering. What's up with you? I wante to know what is up with you.? Bobby is now in law school and I am just a community college grad.
At innsbrook again. I saw an attractive woman who needed help being stood up. I stood her up, me being between her and the bar. I got her some water. The alchohol is a bad influence but it is hard for me to ignore it. We danced while another one dance better with her. Her daughter was there questioning my intentions. Maybe I was questioning my own. We went to another place because her daughter may have left her purse in this particular bar with live music. She told me in so many words that her daughter was her ride. She was drunk and the other guy followed. I got the boucners attention and was willing to give her a tewenty for the cab ride home. The next thing I knew she was leaving with the other guy. Women.
I was at another place at innsbrook when I left the non smoking piano dual to bum cigarette with a girl.
Her name was Breeze and she told me her life story. She told me how she was nomianted prom queeen and how she was beaten. Then she said how she went up with the same girl for some kind of sporting event. This girl the other girl busted her knee in some flag football game. She still had some issues with it. She was my age now 30.
Suddenly her husband knocked me aside. I didn't know what the deal was because all I wanted was to bum a cigarette. I got the story.
"Are you picking up on my wife?" He asked.
"She bum me out a ciagerette."
I went on to say that she was ttalking to me about prom queen.
When there is the alchohol there is no real insghts. He wanted to fight me. I was reminded of the south Roanoke kids the older once who made fun of my speech imediamate. I stood up to him.
"We can't fight here. Do you know where coopermill is?"
He said yes.
"We can do it there." I said. I didn't back down.
He changed his mind. Didn't seem as bold.
He then wanted me to play along. I left with him still knowing where I lived.
I went to another bar that was closing. I had a shot of whiskey or maybe two with some water. I flirted with the 21 year old bar tender. Finally I left.
I was then reminded of Bobby in middle school. In middle school kids were split by honors and acedomics. Honors was the smart kids and acedimics weren't. I went to elementary school with Bobby and didn't understand why he was with lower level.
I got the feeling he was picked on. espically one day when five or maybe seven black kids were surrounding him saying What's up with you?
Bobby stood up to them, considered a nerd by the society, the very society that saw me as freak. He stood up to them asnwering. What's up with you? I wante to know what is up with you.? Bobby is now in law school and I am just a community college grad.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Guitar Center
I don't have the best guitar, but today I decided to get it restrung since I don't know how to do it myself. I played the guitar straight for about five years, receiving 1 year of lessons. I was never that good at it or like alot of other things there was always someone better then me.
It is funny about picking up a musical instrument. You take the clumsiest most uncordinated person and if they find love in it that instrument can be an extention of their soul. For some reason it can also get to that you can't see the person without their new found love.
I was at guitar center trying to keep myself from quoting Waynes World not that I even knew the "May I help you riff." I lusted over the electric guitars as if they were a long legged woman. A guitar's issues can be managemable. You'll have to tune and restring it, and I can't honestly think of what else to do with one. I was aprehensive in asking if I could pick up this one holobody while my acoustic was being restrung. I love holobodies and I could afford it.
Just yesterday I was thinking about getting a tattoo of Miles Davis on my sleeve. Now I am thinking about buying a guitar. One or the other.
I paid for the strings and brought it back home. I immedaitely played it. It was already out of tune but I tried thinking of some of my poetry for a song. I of course can't play and sing at the same time.It took me awhile to make a descent sound out of it.
Moral of the story don't leave things in the closet for to long or it won't sound as good when you get it out to play.
It is funny about picking up a musical instrument. You take the clumsiest most uncordinated person and if they find love in it that instrument can be an extention of their soul. For some reason it can also get to that you can't see the person without their new found love.
I was at guitar center trying to keep myself from quoting Waynes World not that I even knew the "May I help you riff." I lusted over the electric guitars as if they were a long legged woman. A guitar's issues can be managemable. You'll have to tune and restring it, and I can't honestly think of what else to do with one. I was aprehensive in asking if I could pick up this one holobody while my acoustic was being restrung. I love holobodies and I could afford it.
Just yesterday I was thinking about getting a tattoo of Miles Davis on my sleeve. Now I am thinking about buying a guitar. One or the other.
I paid for the strings and brought it back home. I immedaitely played it. It was already out of tune but I tried thinking of some of my poetry for a song. I of course can't play and sing at the same time.It took me awhile to make a descent sound out of it.
Moral of the story don't leave things in the closet for to long or it won't sound as good when you get it out to play.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Amy Winehouse freewrite
Listening to Winehouse. First track Rehab. A song that for some reason, despite the subject matter makes people myself included want to drink. I personally have cut back considerably on my drinking, but everyone has a little bit of bad. I think it isn't quite the devil, but I think God makes us his spiritual comedy. He's up there laughing, and we pay for it the next day. Anyway that stuff can kill you young so BEWARE.
The song Back to Black sounds like a Supreme song at the beginning. When I first heard it I thought Amy was going to start singing "Baby Love." Then another song, Tears Cry on their own, sound like that song that goes, ain't no mountain high enough.
I think it is a good album, but some U.K. chick was trying to steal our motown. The last song is hip hop.
One can come to many conclusions. I'll leave that up to you, cause for now I am just listening.
Amy Winehouse has several good lines but the one that hit me today was ,"I pour myself over him."
As far as motown goes , I would like to see the acts full of life. Smokey Robinson looks fairly young, because he had some work done. I can't get enough of Smoky Robinson especially ,"Tears of a Clown." Diana Ross is probably more of a diva now then she was then. Both can still sing.
So kids beware of your genious we all have a little.
The song Back to Black sounds like a Supreme song at the beginning. When I first heard it I thought Amy was going to start singing "Baby Love." Then another song, Tears Cry on their own, sound like that song that goes, ain't no mountain high enough.
I think it is a good album, but some U.K. chick was trying to steal our motown. The last song is hip hop.
One can come to many conclusions. I'll leave that up to you, cause for now I am just listening.
Amy Winehouse has several good lines but the one that hit me today was ,"I pour myself over him."
As far as motown goes , I would like to see the acts full of life. Smokey Robinson looks fairly young, because he had some work done. I can't get enough of Smoky Robinson especially ,"Tears of a Clown." Diana Ross is probably more of a diva now then she was then. Both can still sing.
So kids beware of your genious we all have a little.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Journal entry freewrite
Taps played on Maple leaves from sprinkles in a summer light rain. Uneasy consciousness tired of shut in thoughts. The night craves you in Sunday's vacant streets and full parking lots. Only Crickets speak. Screens keeps them on their side. Exhale stinging tongue on the sight just before citizen's work week. NO ringing, beeping, inbox jingles. Only hear the pen to paper anxieties including the shakes. The cabinets are full and there's chilled beverages in the refrigerator for MOnday's mother's embrace to start over outside the womb. Awake at "the night's serenade." Mid month imagining vacationers coming home preparing for Monday. Greatness in my feet put up on an atumun. TV off muse in blue's electric poetry filling up the page with a lack of a definite plan, random irregular desires to prophesize weekend finishing after whiskey burning my nose, clumsy speech unreal to real voices deaf from the speaker's judgemnts. If it is too loud you are too old. However, now a tranquil nirvana night's whispers.
My Niece
She crawled with great speed
in a denium skirt
with barely any hair on her head
Now she walks
captivated by any thing as simple
as a shiny silver watch
when she will speek sentences
it will be like wind sprints
everyone in the room would like
to hold her
but she has her own unstill agenda
she likes doggies and calls her mommy, bobby
Naturally she smiles the whole day
cries when she is hungry
or needs to be changed
but not just because
An addition to the family
when it seemed like the family
was a fender bender
She jumped start our new beginning
in a denium skirt
with barely any hair on her head
Now she walks
captivated by any thing as simple
as a shiny silver watch
when she will speek sentences
it will be like wind sprints
everyone in the room would like
to hold her
but she has her own unstill agenda
she likes doggies and calls her mommy, bobby
Naturally she smiles the whole day
cries when she is hungry
or needs to be changed
but not just because
An addition to the family
when it seemed like the family
was a fender bender
She jumped start our new beginning
Saturday, August 13, 2011
freewrite
Devolution
Ecstatic
Godsend
Era
Natural
Evidence
Radical
Apparent
Time
Initiate
Optimistic
Nerosis
Ecstatic
Godsend
Era
Natural
Evidence
Radical
Apparent
Time
Initiate
Optimistic
Nerosis
Friday, August 12, 2011
Jonah Jericho on fitness.
I got up to about 240 pounds, and my doctors were warning me about diabetes before I decided to do anything about it. I guess you could have called me an athlete in a past life, but when I was so heavy it was a beer and pizza diet.
I don't agree with diets or tv shows like the biggest loser. You shouldn't cry your first day. It is a life style change that happens gradually.
When I first started working out, I did the eliptical, because it was low impact and I thought it would be better for my foot problem. My first goal was to do it for ten minutes. That was all I did my first day. Later you learn you should always change your workout so you don't plateau. I would either adjust the resisitance, go longer, or add weight training.
I would make fun of the guy I am now when I was eighteen but I get a high and a thrill from working out that eventaully happens to everyone who sticks with it.
Some of my favorite writers are Charles Bukowski and Hunter S. Thompson they would probably disagree with me. The natural high you feel when the blood is flowing makes you want to live life. Instead, the high you feel after nine beers that would make you feel like you are going to black out or makes you the ass of the party. Then theirs weed it does get you high but sometimes you are so high you can't move. I don't think drugs make good writers, but I do remember thinking that it was more fun. That fun can kill you or put you in prison.
I would like to live untill I am 75. After that I would rather not have people take care of me in like a nursing home. When I am 75 I will start smoking cigarettes and drinking beer again. Which reminds me...
The more you workout the more you reevaluate different life style choices. You want to be healthy.
YOu probably saying to yourself JOnah, I am not motivated. Music MUsic Music. Kids today are making playlist. I have no idea how to do this but I am sure you can figure it out. Recommended songs and cliques: Babbo o' riley, under pressure, wolf like me, riders on the storm, resistance, look up fugazi, weezer, maybe alittle beethoven etc.
MOtivation can also be just a nice sunny day. Don't waste your day with hangover, get those knees up.
as always don't forget my memoir, When we Were Young available at www.jasonjepson.com
I don't agree with diets or tv shows like the biggest loser. You shouldn't cry your first day. It is a life style change that happens gradually.
When I first started working out, I did the eliptical, because it was low impact and I thought it would be better for my foot problem. My first goal was to do it for ten minutes. That was all I did my first day. Later you learn you should always change your workout so you don't plateau. I would either adjust the resisitance, go longer, or add weight training.
I would make fun of the guy I am now when I was eighteen but I get a high and a thrill from working out that eventaully happens to everyone who sticks with it.
Some of my favorite writers are Charles Bukowski and Hunter S. Thompson they would probably disagree with me. The natural high you feel when the blood is flowing makes you want to live life. Instead, the high you feel after nine beers that would make you feel like you are going to black out or makes you the ass of the party. Then theirs weed it does get you high but sometimes you are so high you can't move. I don't think drugs make good writers, but I do remember thinking that it was more fun. That fun can kill you or put you in prison.
I would like to live untill I am 75. After that I would rather not have people take care of me in like a nursing home. When I am 75 I will start smoking cigarettes and drinking beer again. Which reminds me...
The more you workout the more you reevaluate different life style choices. You want to be healthy.
YOu probably saying to yourself JOnah, I am not motivated. Music MUsic Music. Kids today are making playlist. I have no idea how to do this but I am sure you can figure it out. Recommended songs and cliques: Babbo o' riley, under pressure, wolf like me, riders on the storm, resistance, look up fugazi, weezer, maybe alittle beethoven etc.
MOtivation can also be just a nice sunny day. Don't waste your day with hangover, get those knees up.
as always don't forget my memoir, When we Were Young available at www.jasonjepson.com
Thursday, August 11, 2011
trying to apeal to both sides of the politcal spectrum, but... I am a democrat raised in the south
ANTI___ THERAPY
Romney was on the news talking about how he wasn't going to raise taxes on the people.
A democrat or several stand up and said, " What about Corporations?!"
Romney eventaully replied, "Corporations are people too."
I came to the conclusion, that the big corporations have Romney in their pocket. When he should be fighting for the man and woman making less then a half a million dollars a year.
Bachman's anit-gay therapy is nuts to me. Some of you who have read my blog know that I am christian. Don't put me into the same group of Christians who hate homosexuals.
Do you remember the golden rule? Do unto others... that is how I feel about homesexuals and other groups I don't fully understand.
Both republican canidates are intelligent. They know how to speak to people to get them on their side.
Some of you are saying Barack Obama is the same way. He is a wizard of words and speeches.
One thing we can agree on is that we point the finger at the other. Ask yourself, What are you willing to give up if not for your government but for your country?
Chances are it is going to have to be money. We are not necassrily being asked. We may be asked to contact our congressman or congress woman but what good is that doing?
Some are saying get rid of social security or get rid of medicare. I am disabled and if you want to take away some of my percentage points, be my guess.
As far as my veteran's benefits go, how about if I go off my meds for a couple of months and spend the night at Cantor's house.
No one should act like they are untouchable.
Romney was on the news talking about how he wasn't going to raise taxes on the people.
A democrat or several stand up and said, " What about Corporations?!"
Romney eventaully replied, "Corporations are people too."
I came to the conclusion, that the big corporations have Romney in their pocket. When he should be fighting for the man and woman making less then a half a million dollars a year.
Bachman's anit-gay therapy is nuts to me. Some of you who have read my blog know that I am christian. Don't put me into the same group of Christians who hate homosexuals.
Do you remember the golden rule? Do unto others... that is how I feel about homesexuals and other groups I don't fully understand.
Both republican canidates are intelligent. They know how to speak to people to get them on their side.
Some of you are saying Barack Obama is the same way. He is a wizard of words and speeches.
One thing we can agree on is that we point the finger at the other. Ask yourself, What are you willing to give up if not for your government but for your country?
Chances are it is going to have to be money. We are not necassrily being asked. We may be asked to contact our congressman or congress woman but what good is that doing?
Some are saying get rid of social security or get rid of medicare. I am disabled and if you want to take away some of my percentage points, be my guess.
As far as my veteran's benefits go, how about if I go off my meds for a couple of months and spend the night at Cantor's house.
No one should act like they are untouchable.
My notebook
My note book is black and blue from the fight. Winners waiver still hitting the jab. The loser gives up as he turns his back. The spiral keeps his guard up for the combinations to the face. The ink runs off after the right hook. Uppercuts works the soul. In between rounds new inspiration appears. The on going battle for 180 sheets, close to my first subject divider. Keep your gloves up for the invinite word or new notebook.
The Great Artist
You probably thought I was a loser after high school
You called me a shizo when I was diagnosed with shizophrenia
the whole day is ahead of me and you probably think I
would have real troubles if I had a mortagage
It is not a contest
but the struggle creates...
and your voice creates...
My faith creates...
then the struggle disapears
in to the thinking, I can't imagine being anyone else
My mind can understand the everyman
in their homes watching tv
they are capable of doing so much more
some say no time to create
families have their sons and their daughters
these are greater artist
then the singles using canvas
then the singles using written words
seeing images in the clouds
for the great artists
I hope you receive faith
in family God and love
Philippians 4:6
Don't worry about anything, but pray about everything. With thankful hearts offer up prayers and requests to God. (CEV)
You called me a shizo when I was diagnosed with shizophrenia
the whole day is ahead of me and you probably think I
would have real troubles if I had a mortagage
It is not a contest
but the struggle creates...
and your voice creates...
My faith creates...
then the struggle disapears
in to the thinking, I can't imagine being anyone else
My mind can understand the everyman
in their homes watching tv
they are capable of doing so much more
some say no time to create
families have their sons and their daughters
these are greater artist
then the singles using canvas
then the singles using written words
seeing images in the clouds
for the great artists
I hope you receive faith
in family God and love
Philippians 4:6
Don't worry about anything, but pray about everything. With thankful hearts offer up prayers and requests to God. (CEV)
Sunday, August 7, 2011
This is how we treat our heros
As far as seal team six goes, we will probably never meet them, know their names, or even shake their hands for the job they have done. Seal team six is the group who raided and killed Osama Bin Laden. Osma Bin Laden was the mastermind behind september 11, 2001 which was a grueling 10 years ago.
How exstactic were you when you heard s couple hours sooner that Bin Laden was dead?
I heard the news on the radio which is ironic because when 9/11 happened I didn't own a tv. I listened to it on the radio again. I don't know I just thought that was wierd.
Yesterday, there was news that some members of seal team six were killed. The taliban said they were to blame. I persoanlly do not trust Pakistan and think the taliban knew that some of these men were going to be on this helicopter.
What comes to mind? REVENGE
I never went to war college but I figure that is an element of war getting the enemy back after they have done something to us. We teach our kids to turn the other cheek, and the last thing i want to sound like is a hippy who takes advantage of his freedom. When will end though?
Seal team six should have been put on a pedal stool. Gran it there would have been no parades but these men should have been taken out of combat, out of harms way. They had done their job. Some would probably hate being taken out but the way I see it the war is over. We can't go back and fourth for ever.
How exstactic were you when you heard s couple hours sooner that Bin Laden was dead?
I heard the news on the radio which is ironic because when 9/11 happened I didn't own a tv. I listened to it on the radio again. I don't know I just thought that was wierd.
Yesterday, there was news that some members of seal team six were killed. The taliban said they were to blame. I persoanlly do not trust Pakistan and think the taliban knew that some of these men were going to be on this helicopter.
What comes to mind? REVENGE
I never went to war college but I figure that is an element of war getting the enemy back after they have done something to us. We teach our kids to turn the other cheek, and the last thing i want to sound like is a hippy who takes advantage of his freedom. When will end though?
Seal team six should have been put on a pedal stool. Gran it there would have been no parades but these men should have been taken out of combat, out of harms way. They had done their job. Some would probably hate being taken out but the way I see it the war is over. We can't go back and fourth for ever.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
A free write about two catchers
This writing was inspired by Yankees Magzine's article The unforgetable Fire of Russell Martin or the assuming artist.
Can you imagine being a catcher in the majors: having to put on that equipment every game, risking a career ending injury when a base runner coming home and decides he is going to lower his should into you instead of sliding, and then having to squat as someone (on your team) throws a hard ball at you as fast and hard as he can.
To Be a catcher, I figure you have to be a rock, and hard insensitive rock. There is no finese, or real style. After saying that I have to tell you that catcher is one of my favorite positions in all of sports.
In the article, Russel Martin goes though his early struggles, and his work ethic. It also goes into that Martin is as good as his word.
To be honest I skimmed the rest of the article because I wanted to make sure he wasn't compared to Yogi Berra. I didn't want that to happen.
Either way let's analyze these two men. Berra finished his career as the catcher. He was beat up at that position, and his knees are probably gone from squatting all those years. Yet whenever you see him he has that Yogi grin that yogi smile that makes you think the kid is still there. One may conclude that playing catcher for the yankees is the fountain of youth for New York.
Russel Martin came from two parents who were muscians. How did Martin become a catcher? I guess it is similar to an army brat who becomes a non comformist. Russel is in my time and I enjoy watching him play, especially when he hits those home runs. I think people should watch Martin as much as they can so that they can tell future generations that they were there similar to my dad and Yogi Berra.
I know there is only one I say one Yogi Berra but are we witnessing the next in Russel Martin.
Can you imagine being a catcher in the majors: having to put on that equipment every game, risking a career ending injury when a base runner coming home and decides he is going to lower his should into you instead of sliding, and then having to squat as someone (on your team) throws a hard ball at you as fast and hard as he can.
To Be a catcher, I figure you have to be a rock, and hard insensitive rock. There is no finese, or real style. After saying that I have to tell you that catcher is one of my favorite positions in all of sports.
In the article, Russel Martin goes though his early struggles, and his work ethic. It also goes into that Martin is as good as his word.
To be honest I skimmed the rest of the article because I wanted to make sure he wasn't compared to Yogi Berra. I didn't want that to happen.
Either way let's analyze these two men. Berra finished his career as the catcher. He was beat up at that position, and his knees are probably gone from squatting all those years. Yet whenever you see him he has that Yogi grin that yogi smile that makes you think the kid is still there. One may conclude that playing catcher for the yankees is the fountain of youth for New York.
Russel Martin came from two parents who were muscians. How did Martin become a catcher? I guess it is similar to an army brat who becomes a non comformist. Russel is in my time and I enjoy watching him play, especially when he hits those home runs. I think people should watch Martin as much as they can so that they can tell future generations that they were there similar to my dad and Yogi Berra.
I know there is only one I say one Yogi Berra but are we witnessing the next in Russel Martin.
The Black Keys- The big come up
Heard of these guys from a Buddy Holly comp and facebook. I thought they were black that is until I saw the cover of this album. I was disappointed, because more often then not when the white man gets involved with African American culture he tends to ruin it. There are exceptions to this rule to live by. The black Keys are apart of the progress to bring back good music to the comman man. In a time radio is so often bad thank God for the Black Keys.
At one point I thought the lead singer sounded like Jimi Hendrix, no lie. There are similarities, but the Black Keys are just two whiteboys. I highly reckomend you buying this album.
At one point I thought the lead singer sounded like Jimi Hendrix, no lie. There are similarities, but the Black Keys are just two whiteboys. I highly reckomend you buying this album.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Adele-21
Listening to Adele 21. This is the second time. I feel like she knows me, and she doesn't like me very much. For you guys on a guilt trip this album will carve into your soul. Her vocals will not be parallel. I can't compare it to anything.
Before I bought this album, I thought she was jazzy. This album isn't too jazzy. There is the blues though.
You will feel so close to this album that you won't want Adele to get hurt anymore.
The album is called 21. I personally want to have a glass of wine with her, and tell her to avoid those sweat drinks. Despite her age it is a very mature album.
Before I bought this album, I thought she was jazzy. This album isn't too jazzy. There is the blues though.
You will feel so close to this album that you won't want Adele to get hurt anymore.
The album is called 21. I personally want to have a glass of wine with her, and tell her to avoid those sweat drinks. Despite her age it is a very mature album.
A reverse 1950's view
When I say 1950's in this writing, I am talking about the family. The man goes out and makes the money while the woman stays home with the kids and cooks dinner. If this is your view on how things should be, there is nothing wrong with that. I was raised like that.
However, when I was a preschool teacher's aid there was this cute little girl. Her dad brought her to school, and usually her mom picked her up after school. Her dad stayed home.
The little girl also had a baby sister that I guess her dad watched. So I guess "daddy" watched two little girls after school. One had diapers and the other did not.
I watched the little girl like a hawk. Can't say I trusted the little boys, but they usually played together or by themselves. This little girl played well with others, she could write her name in "nice" handwriting, and she listened to the main teacher. Not to mention, she was funny and great to be around.
My brother for a little while was a stay at home dad. He got his oldest son into star wars, and he is still a good dad and husband.
The little girl, in preschool, dad was a stay home dad. I think this is a good modle for an american family. This case is springing up throughout America. Both parents bring in income so the finacial burden doesn't fall solely on one parent. I personally am a big believer in the stay at home dad.
In the 1980's there was this movie called Mr. Mom. The dad in this film loses his job and has to watch his two sons and daughter. His wife finds a job.
This was a comedy. In this movie it seems to say a man might have a different approach to child care, but he still gets the job done. If you can find this movie I highly reckomend it.
There is no reason why a man can't raise kids. It is an interestine dynamic that you might see more of.
However, when I was a preschool teacher's aid there was this cute little girl. Her dad brought her to school, and usually her mom picked her up after school. Her dad stayed home.
The little girl also had a baby sister that I guess her dad watched. So I guess "daddy" watched two little girls after school. One had diapers and the other did not.
I watched the little girl like a hawk. Can't say I trusted the little boys, but they usually played together or by themselves. This little girl played well with others, she could write her name in "nice" handwriting, and she listened to the main teacher. Not to mention, she was funny and great to be around.
My brother for a little while was a stay at home dad. He got his oldest son into star wars, and he is still a good dad and husband.
The little girl, in preschool, dad was a stay home dad. I think this is a good modle for an american family. This case is springing up throughout America. Both parents bring in income so the finacial burden doesn't fall solely on one parent. I personally am a big believer in the stay at home dad.
In the 1980's there was this movie called Mr. Mom. The dad in this film loses his job and has to watch his two sons and daughter. His wife finds a job.
This was a comedy. In this movie it seems to say a man might have a different approach to child care, but he still gets the job done. If you can find this movie I highly reckomend it.
There is no reason why a man can't raise kids. It is an interestine dynamic that you might see more of.
The Language Spoken down deep
Southern culture isn't in debt, or unemployed
We try to keep the prices low
Even the yankees want a taste
The Love Loss and layoffs
brings us back to the blues
or toe tappin' country
We are big fish in a community pond
The miseduaction of the southern draw
is infinite down in Virginia, to the Carolinas to Texas
Occassionally disagreeing politcally
Both our views have the cheap wine buzz
during sweat tea heat
farmers to excecutives, store owners are united
with the working class
with southern folk porchin' it close to the cool fan outside
conversatin' on all topics
eduacting the youth of our ways
one can only wonder why the yankees insult us
when they retire in the south
Lord save us from ourselves
we are having too much fun
We try to keep the prices low
Even the yankees want a taste
The Love Loss and layoffs
brings us back to the blues
or toe tappin' country
We are big fish in a community pond
The miseduaction of the southern draw
is infinite down in Virginia, to the Carolinas to Texas
Occassionally disagreeing politcally
Both our views have the cheap wine buzz
during sweat tea heat
farmers to excecutives, store owners are united
with the working class
with southern folk porchin' it close to the cool fan outside
conversatin' on all topics
eduacting the youth of our ways
one can only wonder why the yankees insult us
when they retire in the south
Lord save us from ourselves
we are having too much fun
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