Bays and harbors.

I awoke with a start, panicked, thinking "I must organize these coastal defenses!" What the hell was I dreaming about? Maybe I'm overdue a trip to the Gulf coast. I dig the coastal areas of the state. So unlike the rest of this place. This place, unlike. I'm not an American. I'm not a Mississippian. I'm just a guy on a landmass.

I saw more of this country, last year, during my tour and brush with mild (very mild) fame. What I most enjoyed was the break with the conventions that are so unnecessary and so held dear here. I liked being in places where no one had any history.

Seeking purchase.

I've started spending more time outside than in. Dig this patio office. Ditched the cell phone. Tough for about a week, but it's nice to remember that I can still do as fine without as I did before. So what do I do out here?

Well....

Ah, well, hi!

Thought for the briefest of half seconds (ugh) about changing the layout. No way man.

 So. Mas, por favor indeed. Autocorrect made a hash of that sentence. This was begun when autocorrect was but a glint in someone's something. It was really a compilation when I started, a collection of old, now really old MySpace blog postings. A great deal happened from MySpace to this blog, and a much greater deal from the beginning of this blog to now, but I'll put current me up against either of those me's any day. Or any other iteration of me's. My fighting trim has never been so trim.

 (And aren't I trim? And trig?)

For Ray and his man-crush

Shimmering, silver-shot silk, stolen in time gone, not found. She walks, declaims, burdened in wool, she is inside, not out, not belonging. My focus is not focus, my me is mine. I am inside, not out, not belonging. Outside is not of me, I will remain in me. NO. NO. NO.

Garaja.

Ever stopped someone for driving on the wrong side of the highway and had them pull a gun on you? It sucks. For them. I didn't have to shoot him though. Probably should have. He dropped his unloaded weapon almost before my weapon cleared the holster. Good times, my friend.

Is no computer, chilluns.

The one invention of the 20th century (somewhat arguable, some Frenchman made one in the 1760's,) that has made more far-reaching changes in us as a society is the automobile. It has made us terribly impatient. We have to have everything now, you dig. I hate the automobile and we'd be better off without it. We'd be nicer, completely independent of oil (before the auto, oil was considered a useless toy; well not completely independent, we need it for plastic,) and I really think we'd have richer lives. Take it slow. Take it light. I hate working wrecks.

Parabellum.

"Load with ball. Go from head to head. None will be left FOR dead. All shall be left AS dead."
Is "The Postman" prophetic? Why did I just get a flash of myself with hoary head, scarred face, ragged uniform and tarnished badge on horseback addressing troops amidst bodies? Perhaps a hackneyed story is forming in me head? I must be spending too much time around cannons. I might try and contact that lit agent I read about in the paper last week. Maybe I can get that backlog of stuff I've got published for a little extra cash? Not much chance, but I'm no Emily Dickinson, hoarding things, hoping they'll never see the light of day. Of course, I'm NO EMILY DICKINSON, but who the hell knows.

By the by...

I positively detest Steely Dan, the Eagles, the Allman Brothers, (particularly that Gregg foochie; that, 'baby let me show you my tattooo' song has to be one of the gayest ever,) Van Halen (heresy!!!) and Creed. Good god, man. Good to hear Creed's ignorant ass sacked that lead singer, Mr. "My wife kicked my ass with a telephone." Now I won't have to hear too much of that shit coming out of my radio anymore. Did anyone see him on "I love the 90's" all fat and doped up? I just saw him on television, and this is the closest I can get to giving him a dick punch right now. I did punch the singer for Counting Crows once. Speaking of shit coming from my radio, if I could get that Manfred Mann "Blinded by the Light" homosexiness deleted from all radio playlists, I'd be a relatively happy guy. I really miss 780AM and the old FM105.9. That was good radio. 780AM was the best, but FM105.9 played "96 Tears" by ? and the Mysterians a lot, one of the best songs ever. I remember back in the summer of 1966, that song was just about the only thing you'd hear on the radio. Oh wait, no I don't, I wasn't around back then. Seems like I was, because for some reason, I can clearly remember it. Odd, that. About the Counting Crows guy. When I was in the ninth grade, they played in Jackson, and friends dad's company was one of the shows sponsors, so we got backstage passes. I asked the fuckjobber for an autograph, and he pushed past me saying "I don't do that rock star stuff." So I drunkenly swung at him, my fist glancing off his shoulder. I don't even think he noticed, but now I have this story. And now I'm out of breath.

Chatty Cathy

Old people freak out when you get behind them in a patrol car. Hmm...an old lady in a Buick would make the perfect dope mule. Except you could only let her transport dope, never money. The reason being, if she had your money, and were to pass, say, a casino/yard sale/bingo parlor, you'd be fucked.

Elucidation...

I used a phrase in one of my blogs some have needed clarified. Here goes:

Badge Bunny- a police groupie, of which there are two types.

1. Late 20's-early 30's female, usually an office professional, very attractive in that "clubbin' " sort of way. Nutjob of the "shithouse rat" variety.

2. Late teens-early 20's overweight female, usually a student, usually displays some sort of NASCAR decals upon their personal vehicle. Generally more aggressive in their pursuit than type one. Nutjob of the "shithouse rat" variety.

While both types must be avoided at all costs, particularly avoid type one, as she is much more of a danger to an officer's career, property, and person.

Folderol....

That's it, really. Let ME roll it, it's not your turn. Maybe there's more. Oleo. Wax in the chocolate? Can I be your chocolate bar? Be it time to skate in my well-lit ghetto sled? Fuck. Dirtywhiteboyjeezumcrow. Somebody talk at me, huh? Rusty Bennett gone check yo' ass, I'm telling you. Burn it.

The return of the Black Donnelly's- Canada's tragic roustabouts.

Pursuit. Tonight. He wrecked, ran, almost drowned in a dark and muddy stream. I could not see, but heard him thrash. When the light came, he was nowhere to be seen. I returned to his smoking car and removed his rocks and his beer cans. I then filed multiple affidavits and issued nine citations, mostly obscure code sections. Obscure, but quite valid. Felony fleeing. Failure to comply. Failure to yield to blue lights. Open vehicle into traffic. Leaving vehicle with engine running. Leaving the scene of an accident with property damage. Disregard for traffic device times two. Driving while license suspended. Expired tag. Reckless driving. Open container. Resisting arrest. Felony possession of controlled substance.
In two weeks I will drag him from his bed at 2AM. His mother will cry. As will he. Pay to play. My mind keeps returning to the time I built sandcastles with Cheryl Ladd. The sea. The moon. The angel.

Honduras-engaging now.

Spooky and rolling on fog laden streets, buzzing at my hip. The television mutes and the nudity abides. I've not seen my familiar, not yet gone. When drips and drops slide and slither, I know that I need new rubber and blades, but the money's all gone. So I keep dragging, and hoping the meat doesn't spoil, and knowing that my relief will come when I summon. Summon. Seasons and paper. Olden and dust. Frightened cats and keyless genies. Viceroy. The bells. Within. I am here.

98's and blood....

It was longer ago than my dreams let me realize. Long black cars, very fast, very loud.

Sonduhdahooring light.

Barmy fucker walked out with my flashlight. Liar. I blew smoke in a straight-edgers face tonight. He attacked the sheik/priest/Bogart/student. The smoke made him sneeze, the stole'd-on made him seethe, and the pistola made him plead. I didn't say bleed, so don't see red. All God's chilluns got treble anywayhownomore.

Making your guide rod.

Where's it at anyway? Who got a convertible, I got spring fever like that motherfucker ever-one be talkin' 'bout. Sunlights and breezes and my pretty little redhead shredding flowers. And the new one, quiet one, calming down sometimes only for me. I really am the Pied Piper (the burghers said, 'Do your worst, play your pipes 'til you burst!') My girl wants some Kool-Aid and I feel weird making it. My mom always did it for me. I'd come in sweaty and panting from hardcore, near drunken play, and she'd offer me Kool-Aid but I'd say "No, mama when I thirsty I'se just wants some water," and she'd say thats OK, it's grape anyway, and who likes grape? Everyone prefers the red kind, but I like the orange and my dead dog went nuts for it. Aw'ange. Come see me, huh? I'll be here all weekend.

Cybele.

Half-crazed with lust. When there is a lag in the action, it always helps to have a man walk through the door with a gun. Huntin'-fishin'-huntin'-fishin'......blocking the road. A man bought it on his motorbike yestiddy. Helmet's are cool, but they don't work on your knees, zhu know?

Seen "Poltergeist," right? Similar situation around here. A few very old graves were churned (churned) up to make way for a new subdivision. No one knows about it but the workmen (long gone, no habla Ingles,) and the cops. Bad juju down there. Palpable. Don't build a house. I'm gonna do some prelims in the next few days to confirm my logical suspicions and obvious feelings. It's getting pretty bad, even Durex man stays away. If I can come up with anything tangible, I'll note it fer ye, and you can check it out. IF YOU DARE!

Fine! We'll talk about the Goddamn Time-Life books!

As I wrap my arms around you, I can tell you've never been this far before. If your child needs a Daddy, I can help. Know when. Crying in the rain. They call him the streak. On that ro-ad. Let's go. Star-spangled ro-de-o. All the wrong places. Golden ring. Loo-siana wo-man. He stopped. No, no, no, this is my favorite. Here you come again. Another somebody done somebody wrong. Further I fall, over the edge. Shove it. You picked a fine time. Mama made it. No way to hold my head that didn't hurt. Just a sin away. Any day now. It do make 'em blue. We re-ly on each other. Sleeping single in a double bed. Behind closed doors, hair hanging down. If YOU happen to see the most beautiful girl? I never promised you none rose garden. The reason God made Oklahoma? YOU! I'll never know just what she see's in me. Gobble my crank, Eva Murray. There ain't no getting over me. Jus' a swingin'. I love a rainy night too Mr. Rabbit. I'm guilty of love in the first degreeeee. On the other hand...........



In St. Louis, MO, a housewife felt a sharp pain in her left hand. Three thousand miles away, at the exact same moment, her daughter burned her left hand cooking bacon. Coincidence? Or something more?

Ubi ignis est?

Electric velvet with burnt out wiring. Negative space. Not bad for a seventeen year old kid in the anteroom. Afraid of midnight, watching the doorbell lights. Jump the nightly train, the whistle rocking. My radar runs a short, strip out the screws, don't forget the inserts. The composition of inhaled smoke drags down in the light. Dead legends, missing fingers, I say hatchet but I really mean lighters. Welcome home it's really right here, I'm searching for the sunken aerie. Costumes made from upholstery, drunken thrashing winning dartguns. The tension grows thick, the moments etched.

Straight jamming.

I'm on the move, I'm in the groove, alls I gotta do is choose. AIM! FIYUH! My hands have come into the the old dexterity, my feet as a mountain goat. Emphasis on GOAT chillun's you all know what he means. When the darkness comes and the dust rises, I'll be there at the center. And this center WILL hold. There will be nothing thrown off in widening spires, and this will NOT be televised. It ees ze' bool, ze' bool, we must runs senor! He eyes run silvery like nickles. Leave them broken with their mouths wide open.





Update: The kid is unstoppable. Stop. All the others have been swept away. Stop. The end is nigh. Stop. Take shelter and pray. End.