referebces.references to @kamalopia....whatever the that means...

yep...on this little pastywasty machinie  here...have to select all and then delect before eyes get goings...how to tog TU men...mmhmmm... well, there's a great giant package of bloong felder munching down in the park parking lot just now, 49 tuns of blubber with a fairly reasonable attitude and don'tcha know he gots it all from myself...ho-pe this reads pretty good...he's like a giant cana tuna that one...I suppose I oughta taken a
brekkie here and go see what's up with the 25 cent people quarters being what they is...and how he rides himself around town in his mechanized bicycle that I fought with in the eveing got my knuckles swolled up...and there's a grape on my leg the size of Indiana...ouchie
now don't brag it says the mama cool..
well,  how do you get that fat Martian down here then I asks her
she says you're going to have to put up with limp...
for now...and so he goes trotting by as though he had just picked up all the males and tossed out the goff ones
goof ones...lives like the tin can module you just never know about this sharing thing do yas...
did we flatten him bubba?
hopefully barros is Burrows is me myself and eye...and that's the causal namia to it for certain oh I know it was larry's writing crew that got it down, he's the one said it owuld work...we'll make do with smaller portions won't we

where I'd like to be if time would let me

it's kind of strange how we work now..like our minds are alert and focused and we've just got to set down somehow an explanation somewhere either in this kind of media (published word) or a drawing or a melody (parts of a melody, practice of a melody),,former, latter elements do not work, these have to be unique, original transcendant things, ideas descriptions interpretations of what we few that claim art as our effort and reason to be..just want to talk ab out through these processes ...drawing..painting...strumming a guitar, tinkling at the piano...puffing on the tuba..looking out with our eyes on the world, like I'm walking the dog down the street and seeing all the cement everywhere sidewalks porches highways where is there room for life to exist except in these structures we call our homes, ranches mostly here suburban dwellings next to garden apartments that are mostly three stories with enough rooms for families groups individuals..with kitchens and bathrooms and garages and bedrooms and porches and yards and then there's the outdoors which has gone away in small packages to be found in trips to the farm reaches of where these places are with all the cement...not like at my home which has a back porch I built onto it where I can sit andlook out at the landscape and allow it to foster itself, morning glory circumscribing every effort I make to scrape the garden into what looks like a real cultivating process...the wild orange day lily taking up from the morning glory that which the out of doors does want - to spread itself everywher eand anywhere - was this what was wrong with Europe when the colonists arrived in
America?? that the cobblestones had taken over..is this the postnuclear age definition?  that the Berlin wall was underlining for us to understand what it was we must invite and thrive through?  what are our borders?  where do they begin, why are they there?  does a wild animal have something to do with this, what about native american culture, indians?  are they the standard bearers for the correct approach to demography/sociology?  in a post nuclear age?  do I have to be the definitor?  well..I don't know that I ...

LANDMINES

at last broshows up to deal with R in the boy's body...little control freak has two tvs on
cash rubbing his butt in the dirt again..mouthy
let's see how bro deal with it..
definitely a case of hide the salami..Dobe's apparently
guess he figures that's how it is..

rule of the bone...review

this was a hard one to read...in some ways it's supposed to be a defense of why people become homosexual...because this kid's dad is having him 'do stuff'...or did...also his reason for booking out of the family unit into some real scrappy housing with a series of human castoffs like himself.  I really wanted to poke around in the kid's head and extract the peripheral knowledge venues he was operating on, suspicious of everyone and everything because that's the cards life dealt him. 
Strangely author Banks (Russell) creates a very different sort of hero for this young man, a Jamaican Rastafarian named I man..who interestingly enough turns up in the same garbage can of a home where the boy has been staying when not elsewhere generating a pile of litter.  The boy has his 15th  birthday in Jamaica through a series of events that take  him from upstate New York to Montego Bay.  The vision quest his new Rastafarian associates provide him gives a glimpse into the ego the boy may achieve from his molestation experiences.  He's probably being assigned to a gay lifestyle but does talk about hot girls in the street about his age so maybe he's going to be arriving at adulthood not too confused by the lack of love in his young life. 
Banks' portrayal of this kid's street life in Au Sable, New York is very much a 1980's sort of portrait.  You can see the big hair and the bleached denim along with the significant exploitation of drug-induced states in characters such as the bikers the kid first lives with.  How does a child survive around such people?  From the parent to the roommate to the real dad, this boy gets nothing but grief and fear from being in the same room with any of these folks.  The only adult to actually interact with him is I man and it is only natural the boy would adopt the beliefs of the Rastafari in return for some sort of hope his birth wasn't a mistake.
I find it difficult to think the boy's mother is so detached from her son.  I do know, however, that in a case of molestation, the other parent is always unaware that something is happening to his or her child.  Her boy attempts to make a case for himself about his dad but the confusion of his emotions towards his mother, some underlying resentment that she somehow made this happen, override the effort.  The family unit is fractured beyond repair.
I hadn't read any of banks books but I wanted to know his style and so I have had my opportunity.. it's a good read, not dated at all by it's references to the late 80's, rather an interesting exploration of one young person's experiences on the road to adulthood.  it's kind of a chick book really, makes me want to give the kid a hug and bake him some cookies, give him a new kitten.. 

Corporate Seals...Donnie the Rump and the Metafarsical Premise of his Candidacy

corporate zeal...donnie the rump and the metapharsical premise of his candidacy ...

it's been a good day right up until I was told to keep my dogs out of the road by a supposed fellow dog lover (not)...the guy is a whiner bigtime, he can't have a conversation where he DOESn't whine..and I'm tired and cranky..but there it is...coulda been worse, I forgot to tell this yahoo I've been looking everywhere for the backhinge on my ancient rig and my best bet is go have him weld it...right..we'll see about that, these repairs take money, which I don't have as it's the end of the month...and I wasn't talking a out that anyways...I was loking at the little baby bonnet I just made for my granddaughter to be 'Maxwell'..and I repeat to myself the Beatles song 'bang bang maxwell's silver hammer came down upon her head, bang bang maxwell's silver hammer made sure that she was dead...'which I don't know what it means in terms of an anticipated birth...but my own monther is near that end of t he song situation, t he d word...and..well it just seems like bad luck to even talk abot it but then I'm kind of gravely with the people next store who were supposed to be buying my house and instead caused it to become foreclosed...so all the guys walking out of the place next door I should  consider them 'foes'...hmm?? probably
and that's Trump, the worlds biggest chump...he's not Donald Trump, he is donald the rump...
 I had a boyfriend looked just like that bugger...they coulda been twins...the boyfriend played football for the local team 'the Eagles'...and yeah he had a mother of his children baby momma thing going on for years but every time they'd have a spot I was where it was at...one christmas he duded up in a red velvet santa cap and a blender of candy canes and vodka (no clothes)...that was about as good as it got with that guy...pour one on and try to find his dick... which might go on all night depending on how much other substance the fuck had abused...it didn't ever get physical in a violent way but he sure could be a nuisance.you're so tried you're ready to plaster yourself over the wall paper and he's still trying to go at it...and there's no way to say honey, I can't find your penis, are you sure you've got one?
I imagine trump to be the same sort of sex machine...blow jo b...and hope he comes because if he doesn't you're in for it...
I'm serious these two motherfuckers could be peas in a pod they look so much alike...well actually my footballer was a rather ruggedly handsome dude but I think he was probably his most ardent fan...he got all his teeths pulled out shaved his head and started sporting a tattoo that said 'the man' like he was the only one (and they'd removed his dick when they put on the tatoo)  welll, you know, ten years into it he finally learned a little cunning linguistics to where he made me begin to purr just a slight bit but it was never a out anyting but sex with that motherfucker...I just know him and trump have a lot in common...he's be the worst weapon we could depoly with female operatives in t his country, ones powerful enough to give ol GP a run for their money...what a pain...we NEVER once had a real date, it was always about him needed a little 'attention'..which I came to understand was 'suck me off' that could take all night I always thought, buried in the hair of his weiner 'now I know how a male whore feels' damn is  he ever gonna get hard?  he'd be making these purring sounds like GP trying to run over a cat but he wouldn't get close to the edge for hours and when he finally did, well...he wasn't any heartbreaker that's for sure...I pity that baby momma who's got him back now...he says to me 'I wanna be with you"..and the next thing you know, he's right up there putting the barbequer on the deck and frying her burgers..the fuck...she's like all over him like jelly on peanut butter, I guess she's got strong muskles in her mao ffff...maybe...I didn't really get that about her, she works  hard, she's not real bright but hey he ain't stupid really, there's t he metafarcical situation with good ol Rumpindee Stiltstix...blasting on the Dave Lee Roth till it's burning down the house but nobody the wiser because it's far enough for anybody it don't matter, and who's play that stuff THAT loud?  unless they were an idiot to begin with, right?  you want things that LOUD where some fuckin' earphones, ya jerk!! never saw  him beatin on anyone and he did listen, but thing about an actual date where you have your clothes on and you go somewhere's special link dinner in town at Bushwacker or something?  never happen, I think we had maybe one or two dinners together but it was canned pizza at his place or I'd make somet hing and he'd have a spoonful which he was a fat guy so you wonder where'd t he twinkies come from...I mean really, a whole lotta blubber on that dude...often he told lme he loved me, which I'd believe  him and think everything gonna be ok...like a reggae song and he took off so fast to the baby momma chick I've been typin' with my eyes closed thinking I can face that fact and not wonder why it is we gotta tolerate such inhumane personal relations with one another...in fact, the whole time this was a goin' on, I comforted myself with the understanding I was his sex therapist somehow because when he moved on down the road to , back to, babyy momma (he has two sons) he never looked back, never called up whining saying I gave the t head ya da yada I mighta said at that point I'm sicka you but I didn't get the opportunity or haven't but I gotta say, when he'd look at me when we'd run into one another somewhere around here he'd look me up and down and I wouldn't have a stitch on, he was good at that...like very familiar, like 'I know how to fuck you....'
and yeah he did...but I never said I loved him, I once fell apart over a guy in just that way and he damn near drove me off the bridge but I recovered and even though I went on to marry I never felt that way about anyone in that way ever again...I got more realistic, like yeah sex is a big part of things but so is getting up when the baby scrfeams at 3 am and those are things make you say 'Ilove you' not that he's just made you come like burning a hole in the sheets...although that's good and I haven't had that in forever...well I  had it last night but it was a scene out of ghostbusters...kind of different nowdays when there's other people's flesh involved...there is sometimes but the buggers next door sell  him soon as he is out the door and you should see where they put him up when he gets back home...incredible...he's not a bad doodd..merely a variation on a recurring theme of wh's the latest asshole in muy life right?  this one writes an admirable facebook page but to find him in his own skin on a given day, like helping me make a pizza..well, you'd have to be totally stoked up with marijuana to be sure he was even there...and he WOULDN't be physically and that's nice how that works...but that's not the real meal deal and I say this about that, good ol Donald the Rump better make s ure a guy is a guy if he thinks he's gonna par sec my integrals in the voting booth, get it??

Callandret containment issues

Culhane Callendret did resolve the mystery of the floating feet while he was hoping to hook a great salmon out in the wild wild west of the northwestern pacific coast at Sekiu.  It turned out the currents were bringing the feet in from the Vancouver BC area although it was never really for sure if the feet hadn't been deposited from boats in the Strait of Juan deFuca which were carrying passengers who had their feet and were cutting off other feet or just feet in a bag with people who had feet throwing those severed feet overboard.
It turned out organized crime had gone into the feet severing business with the Pakistani community in the Vancouver BC area.   Culhane had narrowed the perpetrators down to a handful of weasels who extorted the businesses of Pakistani people in return for 'protection' against themselves.  People didn't really enjoy handing over their hard earned money for the purpose of not getting their feet cut off but there it was.   It couldn't be helped.  Culhane traced a pair of cycling Reeboks to a woman in the florist business who had gotten her salmon colored biking shoes from a retailer in Bellingham during a visit there from Vancouver.  One of the cycling Reeboks was found off Sekiu floating near the shoreline.  Culhane determined that Ms. Elani Jophetta had purchased the shoes and was a florist in Vancouver.  One thing led to another.  It was a sad day when Barnard Bolognollo was hauled in on the the missing feet charges.  Turns out good ol Barnard was in charge of a great pair of clippers that neatly sliced off the feet just above the ankle.  The rest of the body was then incincerated.  It was a particularly grisly process and one Culhane was glad to put to bed.  

family AIR looms...

kind of difficult to get into the composing part of this process..have been to lunch, brothers Bob and Pat were there..it's kind of strange how this is going these days...my mother has been hospitalized again..it was unclear if she would be coming back to her home or being placed in the longterm care part of the hospital...she's going to be 88 years of age in November, she's very frail and trembly, she doesn't know much what's going on but she's cognizant, just can't hear..anyways..Pat let me know she'd been put in the hospital so I drove over there to see her.  I went back the next day.  I would have gone today probably but I am having trouble getting along with Bob and his family.  That meant that I would be reluctant to be in the same room with them for fear there would be bad blood.  before my father died, he had me witness a will my parents had created that named me executor of their estate.  dad passed away and then last fall mom got really sick so bob and his wife came up.  they went through my parents' strongbox where the will had been placed.  they said they could not find it so they had a new one drafted.  this new will completely eliminates me from my parents' estate.  it leaves everything to my brother pat.  my parents built a home on the straits of juan de fuca.  it is a five bedroom house and was paid off some time ago although my youngest brother John died of cancer and th ere were medical bills during that time.  the house is well kept and full of family heirlooms ..Pat has been a lifelong batchelor so he will be living in that five-bedroom house by himself when mom either goes to a nursing home or passes away.  he said they changed the will because he was worried he wouldn't have a place to live when mom passed away.  I say 'they' because Bob's wife has been extremely involved in all of this just like she was in my daughter Angel's wedding, to the point where I have been excluded even though it was MY daughter's wedding and MY mother's estate that are involved.
Yesterday mom came home from the hospital.  I was not informed this had happened.  Bob and Pat showed up at the weekly Friday lunch we have here bringing the usual bucket of ice cream (vanilla).  I made two kinds of vegetable pasta, one a cold salad and one a hot dish.  Mom did not come Pat says she is very weak from the hospital stay.  Bob and his wife will be here until Sunday.  Bob said he would see me at church.  I said I might not be there because it was time to bring entries to the county fair.  I have a bonsai alder to enter in the garden exhibition.  I am looking forward to this.  I've been growing HiroAldo for three years now.  He's taller than the average bonsai planting and his branches are entertwined.  He's getting ready to shed his leaves as fall approaches.  He went through a dry patch or two.  He is quite unique.  I do want to have him exhibited at the fair this year.
So I'm sad about the developments with my mom.  I'd like to be there with her but have had a bad case of bronchitis and the residual cough sounds rumbly still.  And there's my brothers and sister-in-law to deal with.  I'm sad about that.  Mom got mad at me one day while I was sitting with her while Pat was having dental work done.  She said that Pat deserved to have everything because he'd looked after her when Dad died.  He has been living with them since he returned from working in Alaska.  Dad was uncomfortable with that arrangement.  He felt that Pat should not be living off of them.  Dad died conducting a civil engineering assay.  He would have been eighty years old.  When Dad died Pat stayed on with Mom.  He has degenerative disk disease.  He is unable to have a job.  He has stayed with Mom in the same bedroom he had as a child.  It's like he never left home. 
I am very sad about this.  In the will Dad and Mom drew up, the four of us living children, myself, my three brothers were to share the estate.  Since Bob and Mark have always been gainfully employed and are to this day, they don't  mind not having a share of the estate.  They think Pat's deserving of it and they agreed amongst themselves this is how it would be.  I was never consulted about it and knew nothing until I was asked to make copies of the documents at the library and mail them to Bob's attorney.  That was the only time I ever knew they had agreed to give Pat my parents' estate.  Like I say, I feel bad about this.  I've been looking after Mom when Pat has to go somewhere, for years I brought her home from church and took her for drives but now she's too frail to come to church anymore although she does try to get to the Friday luncheons.  She's missed them quite a bit since last October.  Today her place next to me was vacant.
So I don't know  how this will all end up.  Pat's health isn't that great he has onset Parkinsons and there are no heirs except Bob's children so that's probably who will end up with my family home.  My neice is doing well but nephew lives in the basement of Bob's house.  He's not doing so great. I guess I have to wash my hands of all of this and just forge ahead as I have done always.  I lived with Mom and Dad when I first returned to the area in 2005.  I  had become unengaged and was very sad.  I had a television program that was keeping my spirits up, human values sort of entertainment, and each morning while at my parents' house I would watch this tv show at 8am.  After a few days, Pat came up to me and said 'shut that off'...that's just the kind of guy he is... 

sitting in the dentist's chair

haven't done it for a w hile...had to sleep on campus in my car as son wasn't up for letting me stay in the parking lot of his building...kind of a bummer t hat however, I spent the night in peace, got up early and went to a park on the lummi res to get put together, then had breakfast at Old Town Cafe..forgot my keys in the bathroom momentarily, that and outgoing coffee was where I left them..in the dentist's chair it was a real experience of drilling, spraying, suctioning and get this widget and get that widget until almost noon for my two front teeth, that was a relief to have that completed, my face was numb up to my hairline from the anaesthetic it feels good to have t hat big chip repaired won't be back until the fall when I will continue with the cleaning and so on, restoring big crown that broke off on wasabe peas...have had my mortgage on my mind, baloon payment I should have made at the beginning with pension withdrawal I didn't do and I will owe about 4 gs at the end of October  this is when daughter is giving birth to maxwell I wrote to my brother asking to borrow t hat amount and he has not answered..am getting kind of edgy about it but it seems as though if I can make things work, I will find the money somewheres...
it has been raining nonstop for almost a week, the garden is overgrown, needs a mow and I am here today at vc because patti didn't make it...was ru nning up to the mail to check to see if stm had paid me yet they've had a bill from me for almost three weeks and no sign of payment to come as yet...this is frustrating, also because of the rain have not been able to paint and someone has taken off with the hubcap and lug nuts for the s10 which I got the tires fixed on and was planning to haul down to joe's to be repaired by rory..it's all in a day's experience..onward and upward

The Callandret Appeal

I wrote a series of stories featuring Culhane Callandret.  One of those was about the Poe River bank robber.   He robbed a bank in Frederickburg, Virginia.  Fredericksburg is not too far off from where Miss Mirabelle  had her fine home.  It's also pretty close to where the bank robber ran when  he got out of the bank.  He had the total of the tills in a brief case.  He ran to a beatup car parked in the alley behind the bank.  He drove off into the steaming suburbs of Fredericksburg, thinking he would hole up on the Poe River.  He got out on 55, the interstate that runs almost in a straight line up to Alexandria.   He turned off at the exit he knew would take him out to the little back road that was to be his hiding spot.  He drove the car into a swampy place that even in the hot summer day was still mud and clay.  Cicadas were making their rattling raspy sound from t he trees along the river bank.  The bank robber pulled the car into a spot that covered it with brush.  He got out and walked along the river's edge, listening to the water moccasins sliding into the slow moving brown water.

After getting a mile or so down river, the robber decided to sit down in the shade to count his take.  He clicked open the brief case, staring at the green bills laid out inside.  As he sat there with the sweat dripping off his brow, a shiny snake slithered up behind him.  It bit him in the back of the neck.  He fell over dead on top of the money.

Culhane came into this story because Miss Mirabelle phone him the afternoon the robbery took place.
"Can't have common thieves taking over our commonwealth," she sternly said to Culhane.
"That's right, Miss Mirabelle, we certainly can't have the Commonwealth of Virginia sullied in such a fashion."  Culhane was adroit with his mother.   He knew just how to steer  her boat and keep her happy.

Culhane was a forensics detective with the FBI.  He hung around Quantico teaching new recruits the ropes, looking for ones with an apptitude for forensics, sometimes hitting the jackpot with recruits like the young man he was bringing with him down to Fredericksburg, Jason Franks.  Jason was from Ohio, his father a policeman in his hometown.  Jason was smart and a quick learner.  Culhane was enjoying following the trail of the robbery with such an eager student.

"Well, we'd better get a look at the surveillance cameras at the bank first off, don't you think?"  culhane asked Jason.
"Yes, sir."
They walked into the Commonwealth Bank, his mother's place of business when she was banking.  The tellers were still shaken by the robbery.  The local police had been in with crime scene kits and there was residue of fingerprint dust on all the counters.
"Just wanna look at t he surveillance tapes for that time," said Culhane to one of the tellers.  The teller got the manager and the manager played the surveillance for them.
"Looks like little Petey Jamison from up yonder, ya think?" asked culhane of the manager, who was a family friend.
"I'd say that be him, but for that crookedy hand he's got there, looks like he scraped it up a bit, mangled it somehow.  Don't recollect Petey  having a hand like that but if someone was going to rob a bank around here, Petey'd be the one I'd be prone to point a finger at."
Culhane played the tape a time or two to be sure, he had his man.  then he put in a call back to the office asking for a run sheet on Petey Jamison.  It came back quickly and as he screened the information it contained, he became certain the robbery had been comitted by Petey.
"Reckon we'll be taking a little ride out by the Poe, see if Petey's holed up at the old moonshine shack they used to have out that way.  See if we can come up with anything useful."
Culhane had never been one to swim the Poe, at least not along the country lane where the Jamison farm had stood.  It was never kept up very well, Petey had gone barefoot summers to save on shoes, there were chickens running everywhere, paint peeling, roof sagging, driveway a rutted blotch  full of puddles and mud come winter.  Culhand steered the bureau sedan down the bumpy lane and parked near the old place.  It had been abandoned years before, the roof still held but barely.  The porch was gone and the front door stood wide open.
"Fine place for a meth lab," said Jason.
"Wouldn't be suprised if it was," said Culhane.  "Ba

a nonedited world...

as I was writing about Cause Boy and Jeannette I saw myself reading this glib little toesander to m y writing circle, specifically the patron saint of roasting yourself.  I realized I would never read Cause Boy's intro piece but I could work more on the Seth Roen attitude..and that's not a typo just him reading interesting newspaper articles like the time Almost calle dup from down south a ways and said the kids at his military school were thinking it would be nice for a rqace relations band tour down their way and would Daddo do that for his kinky counterparts in the gray serge...shoot we even had a cat named Sergie for a while...full name: Surge Protector...that's  how school dug its toenails into Almost, cause's oldest and most fullsome...well, trying to make this a Seth Rogen standup 'essential' as it were and if I keep dialed to the write station (I see my thermo reading here is like 'not even particulating'...clears throat... I might get there...
tomorrow's our read aloud day and I'd to have something not out of the manual of I am a living breathing human being dudes...but yes, my memory is inteact and I'm not writing this to say I can still remember things...like how will I ever forget my daughter's conversation with me today "as far as perrfect people go...you aren't" pretty much the summation of what she said...and therefore, am not so inclined to be of humor but eh...she's lpregnant or something or something and I can't be bothered with her attitude adjusting...now that's something Rogen might get a tooth or two into...the sassiness of progeny...

right

first off let me say this about that...a kid age fifteen, or a bit younger or a bit older...is not the only known authority in the universe about anything or everything or something.  if a parent lets this child become an adult still thinking that himself is the last word on your bangs or your suit, you are in for a lifetime of trouble because this child will ever after remember to remind you you encouraged him to be a brilliant light in a dull world.  That he may shine in your world like retread tires or peeling paint is beyond the point.  He doesn't live next door anymore because he's all grown up and spending what you have on things to make him fatter, more sacrosanct.  He will be there at the appointed time: death of an immediate family member, drug overdose, class reunion (his, of course) but never for something like a cup of tea and hot cookies fresh out of the oven.  He just can't be bothered because you told him he was a success...He's out there proving it to you, especially, , because you're the one who said it in the first place...that he would be a success.
Try to see this kid when  he's first got the brain wheels grinding and you're doing that encouraging parent thing with him, he's probably just flushed the poddy by himself and you make it out to be signing the Declaration of Independence.  See yourself saying to him:  Mudhjan, no one but your small self would make such an integral connection to this process.  You are without a doubt the most clever person Allah ever allowed to thrive on this plane... come, we must go see to the olives and toss down a few while we are at it. Mudhjan is at this time a tender two and a half but you've just told him he's really Leonardo Da Vinci and you're going to get him a drivers' license that says so, so he can drive everywhere running over other peoples' chickens proving this point.   This is what parents do to their progeny in their misguided wish to be enthusiastic of the intepretation they have of how much they adore their children.  It's not really too much of a good thing as no one in this world gets enough love and that's why God made us in the first place in his image so we'd be able to withstand the idea we're not really Him and so  we will always be lacking the wherewithall it takes to transcend good and evil.  We can depend on the Almighty to let us get it wrong  and only if we're above ground do we have the right to fix it ourselves.
When it comes to our kids we can really take a left turn for Boston w hen we hit Philly.  We think we're headed in the right direction until good ol Scranton shows up on the roadsigns and we wonder maybe it's time to find the Brandywine and see if Andrew Wyeth really is everywhere around there.    Yeah, this kid relations thing has been going on since kids were saying it that way "why.eth must I do ith it this way?? or probably in Adam and Eve's day...adam jr or 'cain' as he was known..is asking about the ripe pugencillia that specifically got the family barred from 'the good place' where a.j. (adam jr./cain) was fond of floating in a particularly warm pond of a summer afternoon and he missed that yummy fruit that hung over the pond and he could just snatch a morsel here and there as he floated along...  He asks his pops: "when we movin' back to the 'hood, Adam??' because AJ is abrupt and partial at the same time, at least in how he sees himself talking to good old Dad..  That''s when father Adams (or put yourself in his shoes and go for it)  tells his son, "kid, we're not returning because we  did something our Father in Heaven said we s houldn't..." now, I don't know if it was your mother having a midnight snack, or you just having it fall in  your lap and you ate it, or how it happened, but it did and we don't get to go back there and float around in the warm watter any more, not to mention idealize the pugencilia in carvings and odes and nonspecific cave paintings,"   Herein in Adam's innocent belief in his son's nonintegral position as to his own portion of the collective consciousness...this is where the anytime parent will do the same...'this kid is such an icon to me I can't see the forest at all for that one lovely tree'..and so you do...so you musteth..
let ye fall down flat on ye face should get that kid's head so swelled up he thinks he daVinci though...  never for one second let it be known your heart bursts with pride at their first step but yet you may brag even and later and soon about the same action t his child performed if only  you have that bit of humilty to it that the child is very aware of as it was  his first life's lesson from you "I'm not the greatest person ever to exist, only Jesus got to be that guy, probably Buddha and Siddhartha gave lessons to Jesus on how to be invincible but I'm not ever going to be those guys.  I'm going to be the best guy I can be and next to my supreme being of choice, I love my folks best of all.."  t hat's what you oughtta teach your kids..not that they are DaVinci..but that you are?  right??
,

definition of the meaning of 'blog'...

ok, to date I have used my blogs as a means to an end..a way to end something I'm t hinking of that makes me feel 'mean'...as in the mien..I experience needs a good venting, so I blog it out of me...and it's worked pretty good b ut often is a libelous sit uation wherein I'm grossly overvented about whatever it was, which all works out in the end but during the transition to it being a good thing there's a place in there where to blog is to get rid of the overflowing venom of t he moment..and t hat works
the definition of 'b'log...to record in binary fashion a logging of events to me means the quoted resumption of felling trees (logging) meaning you didn't really cut them down but rather saved paper and circulation effort by writing in cyberspace and well, do you want everyone reading what you write? mmmm, maybe...if it's a good thing like my piece 'evolution of the post nuclear society'...all hip I was on t hat topic after several semesters at the college level learning about the science of sociology...and turns out I was familiar with demography already...so that worked that I should go all aldous huxley and quote myself in a logic parameter as far as why we hadn't really ever dropped any more nuclear weapons after H N...hmmm?? t hank goodness
which isn't to say I dislike the soviet union because I do...that country would like to incinerate t he rest of us and we're not having it but on the same level we can use nuclear technology to t urn that warring attit ude into lots of milk cows, cats and dogs, venison, twenty nine varieties of chicken pork fish and other protein edibles because atomic st uff just isn't likely to parsec bad intent...I don't think that particular science can work that way, otherwise chain reaction of HN would have lit the map ever since and does it?  we are perched on the brink, certainly but as I recall from somewhere at St Martins' probably, the Trojan Horse was considered on the same level as HN...just deadly warfare waiting for curtain calls to send us all to h.e. double toot hpick...as it were
so be log..to be log...to blog, means as to let out the steam of t he observation process and record the transition of thought into process into intellectual output...well, I thought about it then I u sed t he computer and I wrote down my ideas...some blogs are very popular and the advertising on them is an actual lucrative element to the author...how nice...to be paid...great
like writing jokes for Seth Rogan...(somebody should,  he's a pretty funny guy)...
Seth Rogan jokes:  first off, get him decent material on the topic of human relations in the reproductive Zone...EITHER this guy hasn't ever had an experience in that department or he believes it's all a big heehaw and we should not be embarassed but crude, we'll be more comfortable with the entire situation if we ..do it t hat way.  his first movie I saw 'he's  having a baby' or something about being t he baby daddy when he wasn't,  he was pretty good and right away he went to stellar with that one show...then he gets all chummy with adam sandler and the thing is like what,  you both jumped in the cold pool and shriveled up your writing/comedic integrity being the jOb??  hmmm...somehow we s houldn't get produced if we're honing dribbles...but they do and people watch 'em because of their name...now, a good Seth Rogan joke?  ..or mentor sandler...here's you go
an yeah, I think both these guys are like ssizzlllerrrs so why not be purrfect??
k...seth rogan...rogen??  right, oh yeah leave the jewish factor in too, it's always good, very plantangenet...
k...
seth:  I'm up here on stage beca use one of my friends, name not to be shared, thinks I'm perfect husband material...why?  I dunno know about that one, probably because I'm a dope whenever she's around...I mean, really, wh en she walks in the room I feel like a jar of peanut butter...all the gooey interior of that jar is me...spreadable, kind of tasty?  it's like t his chick is a mind cannibal and she's got my number man...I feel damp all over, sorta sweaty, gooey and mostly, STUPID!!  I mean, you could ask me my name and it'd be 'duhhhhhh' because of that chick magnet factor, she's got it, the whole deal, she's got it...well...I know I'm not the only one who feels like t hat when they're totally attracted to someone...my friend Jeanette, she lives halfway down south in t his major big city and she got this what they call a row house, I mean like you all row toget her if you're in a boat because the houses have common walls, you know, a big brick wall between each hooks t hem up so there's like fifteen on a block and they got one two t hree stories with something called a 'french' basement...AHH i GOT THAT WRONG ENGLISH  BASEMENT...it's sometimes got an English basement where what? they used to hide the bodies, shovel t he coal, rent the thing out to do other peoples' laundry?  anyways, nuff said, she gets t his house and it's cool, all torn up with the lathe showing, you know lathe, cheap little sticks of wood that now cost a fortune and all this frosting of plaster going over it so you got plaster walls...no drywall buddy, this is the real thing,  you could hide uncle morty in there and the best sniffing German Shepard wouldn't find  him...so back in the day when these were drug trading neighborhoods, this was a good option, you got the plaster walls, k t hen, we there...which is not what I'm talking about as far as being stupid but yeah, drugs do tend to make you turn out that way right?  boy am I digressing...k...
so Jeannette, she gets this place on a street called Swann Street, which I thought was a good name for a ducky place like what she was going to do with that house...all sweet and simple up and she says she's got these riffraffy friends of hers in and outta there tearing up floors ceilings, plumbing, back yard ahhh. nope they didn't find no bones ceptin the ribs somebody was fond of and that giant great dane of hers Ezekiel (Zeke for short) made short work of those puppies...she says, she's in the front room one evening with her cronies and their blueprints and t heir ragrug weaving  satchels, they were all into goofy crafting st uff at the time and were planning on writing a play and doing some music and maybe throwing around some plaster, oh yeah, Jeannette was casting st uff left and right there for a w hile...so anyway, she's kind of laying on the fllor on a quilt she made, we're all proud of did it myself t hing or we were...she's lying there and in comes this guy from NYC who makes  her thump and bump and get really stupid...she can't help it, no way is she telling him that she's big time hot for him because he's one of those cause type people and if you know t hem, the cause comes first, then the human interaction.. so he walks in the room and high fives everybody and they all know him because they all subscribe to his cause,  which as causes go was a kind of risky thing, it being t he dark ages before the legalization of marijuana...and t his fellow subsequently did major time over having that cause and we should give him a round of applause that he took it to the gate man yeah...ok
but jeanette she was like totally wrapped in that dude and it was she said he started it because she was cooking in the kitchen one fourth of july, probably that was the summer before and it was pouring rain and no way were they going to conduct any kind of radical demonstration on the mall by the White house when it was going this pour down...so she's in the kitchen putting together an apple pie and she happens to bend over in some cuttoffs blue jean that displayed bare anatomy and Cause Boy spied the nontush bare parts and Cupid's arrow went ZINGGGG right into his Damocles sword...I dunno in trying to clean up my act I reserve the right not to use inappropriate language to describe what differentiates men from women because both such elements are truly part of this little story...and in that case Jeannette's hearthrob was displaying a tumescence of outstanding proportion considering he was about 5'8                     9...she said she could see eye to eye with him and she sat down in front of him with those long silky bare legs of hers and the aroma of the apple pie hot out of the oven on the table infront of them...well everyone in the room jumped up and dove on the pie because t here was a moment there when it was like true love got ground up to powder and turned into so much plaster...at least in Jeannette's mind she got totally stupid in that moment and for the next year did nothing but write to Cause Boy and tell him in every letter in a DIFFERENT way...why she was in love with him...well, he didn't give her the time of day and never has...not once, he didn't respond t hen, other than to let her see for two seconds that he had a ...what the dog dug up in her backyard because former tenants had a fondness for barbeque...and Jeannette said it was her year of being stupid when he walked in the room the winter of the summer when she'd made the pie...and she couldn't get up from the floor but laid there listening to his voice trembling because he had t his voice t hat went right t hrough ya...kind of like a drill press you know?  miter saw...dentist's filling tool...blow torch...and he was in the next room sticking his finger in the so ur cream dip yakkkin on about tuna fish sandwiches for dinner and chocolate milk...and she was under the covers by t hen, trying to squeeze  herself under the couch because it wasn't s ummer any more and she wasn't wearing her c utoffs and baking pies but lying on the floor in her living room having a life getting over the back he had th at summer displayed t he outlines of a part of his anatomy to her that indicated there really is a thing called cupid's arrow...or that cupid exists...so after that winter visit when she said not a word to him but wrote  him all that 'florid prose'...about dang...I shudda gone for it but h ow could I?  why didn't I why shouldn't I wouldn't you like to?  com'on buddy, let's ...I hear that barry white guy singing that tune about now because t hat is w here Jeannette was at...and she realized after a year's worth of letters that cause boy was sticking true to his cause and she was nothing more to him than a hot apple pie fresh out of the oven set on the table...with bare legs...
and cause boy went back to Hell's Kitchen where he had hotwired /diverted/ConEd power and so forth to run a kind of rats in the woodwork sort of operation of which he was the total guru and no time for Jeannette who grieved about it, writing as she did about whatever went on with all the passion of a person who does get stupid when they fall in love...oh man...ahhh...I sigh  here because that's great that we can lau gh about those feelings but they are what makes the world go round and hopefully those of us intended to have them as part of our life's experience get to make it all the way around the bases to homeplate in a state of consciousness...Jeannette said t hat if Cause Boy had act ually accepted her responses to  his covering up the remains of rib dinners from the barbeque over on 14th and T...such might have been true love and justice and maybe little CB's and CG's running everwhere...reall irony of this story?  Cause Boy lived right up the street from the club CBGB;'s...how's that for irony?  sighs...
I lifted this plate off the dishrack and I inspected it to see if I could see my face in it and I could so I used it to eat up the french toast that gave me the inspiration to write t his...nah...my gags person did that but as it happens, I find it an amusing little story of love in the big city dog bones and all....

heard from the beg kahuna

mmhmmm...good ol billjay was your typical droid, loose as a goose and pissing on your head if he had had too much, dad was a real bludgeoner to him, couldn't be helped, had to marry damudder and that's how it was...cause billjay was on the way...so he finally passed on, tried from the time he was a teenager to cross the golden rainbow and he finally did it...lots of good times with him but there it is, couldn't be helped and definitely didn't want to get in the way of John Jay, he was a lean mean frightening machine and passed on while we were still in s hort pants, thank goodness, same is true of the latest gabriel judgement  honoree, I say gabriel but I mean peter, maybe gabriel's the angel that decides if they can even ask if they get into heaven, hmmm...well in this case it is PL who dropped, and now there's only DL which is the two of them together in a big pork sandwich...as I see it the trouble hasn't gone away but there's no fascista element to it now, it's just going to be totally mean whatever happens and I know my biggest eldest is in the middle of it (transmission to prove ...hehe) and then t here's DL who's in the hospital with stitches up his back...want to ask if he's ok he's coming  home tomorrow, but might want to let sleeping dogs lie for a little longer, maybe...anyways, off to the firehall pretty quick here, need to go home and do some dishes, big old t hunder clouds up there looking ominous and girls have a fore sale sign in t he winder at the gallery but haven't discussed what the plan is on that...figure  it's actually my property but won't go there until the curtains are lifted in the dark night of time passing...course I went and bought a lotto ticket for ten bucks to try and get t he grease together for the dentist this week but didn't win nothing and lost my only ten bucks in the process which was totally not fun but there it is...use this blog to spout off and being as I was in this life on this beach hundreds of years ago in a different life, I should be talking about clam harvest and what washe dup on the shore but I'm in reality as I see it and t he dishes need doing and the dogs are in the house by themselves and life's not real interesting ot her t han I truly  need extra work to put together some money but it'll all work out
meanw hile..off to the races of life and somewhat integrated into that the passing of PL and hopefully DL and DL are ICBM, hmm???t hat could work, hehe

a years worth of aluminum cans

just been to bellingham to the technical college there for dental work...am due back on May 7 for a cleaning which will be 47 dollars.  I had been saving to see the new baby in October, the son in Maui and the hot water heater...after this recent trip I am down to nothing again because of hotel expenses that I hadn't counted on.  I was told in March that I could stay on an 'air mattress' but then when I got there at 9pm sitting in the car in the back alley of 'the place' the facts were suddenly illuminated in black and in white: nope, never said that, this is not that kind of house, the roommates say no...and so on...and 'forgot' you were coming...and so on...and you see this big fat effigy trotting around in the meetings you go to and the prayers you make sucking up all the good that you hope comes from this life and know that that is the voice that is saying 'I never said that'..as though it were a countenance that actually holds water/which I know it doesn't because I've seen it leaking out all over the slacks of an adolescent/son thereof...meanwhile, funds for another trip to the technical college are nonexistent and I don't know where I can raise six hundred dollars to make the trip because all my savings went into accomplishing this last visit...I was trying to be resolved on my return home to get the funds together for the next adventure, cleaned up the garage and sorted out all the aluminum cans, which there were several large bags full.  "I'll take them to the recycle place and get money for them to start my work towards the next trip" I thought.  Well, I drove into town this morning with the back of the station wagon loaded with flattened aluminum cans.  When I get there I see an obviously mentally challenged young man in a coverall sorting out a great wad of copper wire.  Two men inside the building come towards me and retrieve my great sacks of cans which they promptly dump into their scale
Eleven dollars and seventy cents is what they gave me for my day and a half worth of labor sorting out all those cans.  That is how I am beginning my work to get the resources together to make the trip back to the technical college to have my chipped teeth worked on.  I think about the things I could do to make money but I keep coming back to the fact that what I did have saved went for hotel rooms.  I feel angry about that but I am trying to dissolve that anger with productive reasoning.  T his seems to be in short supply as I contemplate t he fact that I have not yet paid the electric bill for this month, nor the telephone which was exorbitantly high last month.  I haven't opened that bill yet and it too is due...I've also been served with notice that Discover is suing me so there are some big thunder clouds on the horizon...
his quiet voice tells me to be confident, that it will all work out well yet eleven dollars and seventy cents is a paltry beginning to this challenge...I wonder what I can do...certainly there is enough 'stuff' in my house to create a yard sale but who is this little town needs any of it?   certainly the goodwill chain stores are pricing their goods for a lot more than they used to but when it comes to a little yard sale like I would have, prices would be so low they'd be like giving things away..it's a challenge.. I know I'm up for it but I am truly concerned, it's been like this for some time, I don't know the solution, I could paint the backroom at the church and bill for it but it certainly wouldn't be six hundred dollars, which I need for  this next trip 300 for the chipped front teeth and 47 for the cleaning, two nights in the hotel, a wednesday and a thursday, gasoline for the trip...seems like a miracle waiting to happen...I told my mother about my concerns.  she was her usual self about this situation...'on my little pittance I couldn't help out at all'...'pat doesn't get anything'...that sort of thing...I thought about calling a family member 'can you loan me six hundred dollars??'...hmmm...haven't heard from that one for months now...likely why because I've never asked that question