Archive for December, 2012

The coming Hippie Eupocalypse: Day “Oh who cares?”


The Hippie Eupocalypse

Rog and I are in the Family Dollar on Main to get pops
some collector’s edition toilet paper.  I grab the
biggest one of ’em I can and Rog says, “Damn, that’s $9.50.”

I said, “I know but it’s the best value.”  Rog doesn’t want
anything for his 50th birthday, at least not from Family
Dollar.  Hell, it was like pulling teeth trying to get him in
the store with me.  Rog is my pops’ brother but he never
officially adopted me as a nephew so I just call him Rog.

Trouble at the counter, the computers are fucking with me
again.  First, the scanner won’t read Rog’s Turtles candy bar
and the girl behind the counter fiddles around, first with
the candy bar, then tries punching in the numbers, then tries
scanning again a couple times.  Finally, she reaches over the
counter and grabs another Turtle and it scans.

I go to swipe my pass card on the reader and it’s cranked up
against the register and my card won’t slide right.  I try it
from the bottom and it reads.  I go to punch in my PIN and the
girl pushes the reader down and I hit the wrong digits and panic.
I let out a groan and the girl says, “Sorry!

I say, “No problem, not your fault…  I was just trying to
punch in my PIN when you moved the reader.  It’s the machine’s
fault.”  Rog and I grab our goods and I head off in the wrong
direction for the door.

Rog says, “The door’s this way Mike.”

I reply, “See, I told you to come in with me.  I’d have gotten
lost and had another panic attack.  And you didn’t want to come
in with me.”

Pops, doesn’t feel much like drinking, says he’s been sick for
three days, but Rog and I are by the liquor store so we stop
to get a bottle.  Rog won’t come in again and I’m not gonna
argue with him so I head into the store by myself, leaving Rog
in the minivan listening to the radio.

The girl at the liquor store says, “Hi!”  I’d only seen her
there one time before but she seems to recognize me.

I say, “Hi!” back at her and look behind the counter at the
liquor bottles.  They put all the hard liquor behind the
counter a couple months ago because too many people were
stealing.  The Evan Williams isn’t on sale any more so I ask
for a fifth of Kessler’s.  That’s pops’ usual brand anyway, it’s
alright I guess, but I would have preferred the Evan.

Rog is in the minivan, zoning out when I come out with the
Kessler’s.  The doors are locked and I can’t get in.  Rog
fumbles around and I point to the lock switch and he flips it.
I get in and Bob Seger is still playing Ole Time Rock ‘n’ Roll
on the radio.  Time is moving slow again so I bang my chronometer
on the dashboard.

We’re listening to the radio about to turn on Jefferson when I
see the soy bean trucks going in and out of the processing plant.
There’s no hurry now on the narrow stretch to Huckabuck, just
take it slow and let them do their things.  A tune pops into
my head, a fragment of a new one.  I sing:

“The GMOs are running slow on Jefferson today…” as we’re going
over the railroad tracks and Rog pipe’s in with another fragment:

“With the old soy beans laying across the tracks
Hope that trains full of women
‘Cause I’m tired of going in men’s backs…”

Rog, it’s at moments like these when I realize just why I love
Rog & pops and Downertown.

Pathetic Phallus i.e. other forms of shrinkage


Pathetic Phallus i.e.
other forms of shrinkage

there are days you feel like shrinking
and days that you’re already shrunk

there are days you spend a drinking
and days you wake already drunk

there are days you run for cover
to put up shelter from the storm

there are days that you don’t bother
and think of only staying warm

you shrink from Life
you shrink from Death
you shrink from even trying

you hide your chips
and stack your cheese
from eyes you feel a prying

shrinkage seems to be your natural state
evaporation, lying
you’ve given up on tempting Fate –
capitulation, dying

you think you’ll shrink?
to nothingness?
you think that it’ll work?

methinks you’ll find
that shrinkage sucks
you worthless fucking jerk

12.03.20..12

News Flash Snadragon Central December 1, 20.12


Another fantastic day in Ohio.  Got the ad cards from the printer’ for my book, “Space Christals,” and Terry Teri Luoise Kelly’s book of poetry, “Dead With Your Legs Spread on an Unmade Bed” (yeah, she writes catchier titles than I do).  Barnes & Nobles was across the parking lot and took a few of my book cards but Teri’s book wasn’t in their system so they said they couldn’t take hers. (Her boo…

k is out on Lulu.com, guess B&N doesn’t deal with them) Stopped at Video Visions in Mansfield, porn and head shop, thought some of the heads in town might be into something other than porn. Stopped at Main Street books and my two lonely copies are still sitting on the bottom shelf eight months later.  Oh well.  They took both of our cards, guy there was very nice. Suzy is right next door in the smoke shop and is my mom’s best friend.  She was sitting their in her empty cigar shop, not even a lottery customer in the store.  We chatted for a few minutes and she told me to try the coffee shop across the street, that it was pretty hip.  Left a reader’s copy there and some more of our cards. That was without leaving town so I decided to blow off driving to Columbus to look up some places to hit in the big city.  Headed to Downertown to see my adopt-a-pops outside Huckabuck.  Yeah, my pop’s almost five years older than me and is the most honest criminal you’ll ever meet, in his words. Pedro was already incoherent when I got there, and my pops and a couple of the “neighborhood nuts” were all trying to talk to him.  Hadn’t seen him like that in quite a while.  I guess he hit a rought patch or something.  Me and Bob, one of the NN (“neighborhood nuts”), decided to take Pedro home and make sure he got in the door safely,  he had his bottle of Kessler’s and his hat and he made it home alright. Holy crap this status is getting too long…  Well when you’ve had another perfect day like I’ve had, you tend to remember a lot of details about it. 
 
Bub was still there when I got back to my pops so it wasn’t really crowded with the four of us in the two room shack my pops owns outright, except for the Queen’s Taxes.  Bub is another NN.  I break out my li’l sack of sativa sitting on the catpiss stained couch pops sleeps on.  Bob is the second-most sober of the four of us but he can’t roll for shit.  Pops is too busy so I toss the sack to Bub and ask him to roll.
 
He grabs my li’l wee sack as well as the weed and dumps out half of it, about enough for four of pops’ prisoner joints and I’m “Like hey man! That’s half the bag!”
 
Bub just grins and says, “Hey man! I was in prison too long, I don’t know how much to dump out.”  He drops a couple buds back in the sack and starts breaking it up.  Bub is one of my favorite NN when he doesn’t get redneck drunk.  Pops is ready to roll the weed cause Bub can’t roll for shit either and rolls up two prisoner joints for the four of us.
 
I’m hoping it will mellow them out a little bit cause they are all telling neighborhood stories and Bob keeps interrupting pops.  Pops likes to yell at Bob and sometimes Bob’ll get his feelings hurt and go back to his camper across the street.  But not today, these characters were three sheets when I got there at four o’clock.
 
Back before I put aside my practice of Plaid Magic, Bob had told me that Linda had gotten a whole box of old letters from the middle 1900’s and had asked me if I still collected stamps and stuff.  He had a few with him.  I told him they were of little value to me and probably not worth much but if he could find an old Valentine from the 30’s or 40’s I might be interested because I was casting a lovespell for my sister and could use it in the spell.  He comes back five minutes later with a Valentine from like 1942 and I gave him two bucks.  Man he was a happy camper.
 
Anyway after we smoked the first joint,  Bob remebered that episode and we started reminiscing about the neighborhood adventures and people who had moved out or moved on.  There’s more that happened today, but tjis writer is getting sleepy and is signing off…  Have a blessed day

The Blue Gate, Life and a somewhat random facebook status.


My dream is to make a living wage doing something I love to do for as long
as it gives me joy. I don’t desire riches, in fact I fear them. Fame is a
fleeting friend. But waking up every day knowing that come what may, I will
be grateful for whatever comes my way…

I have what I require in the way of food, shelter, medicine and basic
transportation. (Praise Gumbytron for the use of my sister’s old minivan
which is still running) But concert tickets once a summer would be nice.
Yeah I’d like more, but at least once a summer. Oh yeah and a way to get
there. Thanks Manvir for Furthur last summer, the bus trip there and back
was quite a journey.

Where was I. Oh yeah, it started with a simple question in my noggin.
Am I crazy because I believe it is the right of every human being to be
treated as such when they are actively engaged in doing something that she
loves, that also benefits those around her, should she not expect that for
her efforts on behalf of humanity that she be entitled to a living wage?

Oh fool’s talk! Let’s talk Manchester United, Marc, how is their season going?
(aside to a Facebook friend)

Concert tickets for New Year’s, eh, we may not see New Year’s, I’ll probably
be down at Lake Hope for the Mayan Solstice. The Blue Gate that Knight Chris
and Knight Derek opened in the woods there will be open for three days.

Gumbytron has instructed me that I must remain at the gate but I can’t leave
until everyone is done passing through those 72 hours (give or take a few
nanoseconds) The system will never elminate the human element. That is why
it is called an element. So we must rely on technicians in Snadragon (in a
near parallel universe to operate the controls, for which they are handsomely
compensated, I  might add) during the aperture of the Blue Gate.

OK, perhaps the beginning of my earlier phrasing “Am I crazy…” maybe a moot
point after the revelation of my Mayan Solstice plans. But I have a big
problem on my hands. You see, I don’t know where the Blue Gate is exactly
as I was having back trouble and couldn’t make the hike from the campsite in
2001 and listened to Bluegrass Music for three hours while Knight Chris and
Knight Derek went on the quest that I had sent them on to open the Blue Gate
to Snadragon. And Knight Chris and Knight Derek have jobs and families and
responsibilities now and may not be able to make it to help me find the way
back to the Blue Gate.

But, I will go nonetheless. See how much it costs to rent a cabin. Gumbytron
instructed me to stay near the gate for three days but by Pokemon I don’t
have to freeze my nuts off doing it. Probably can’t afford a three night stay,
though. Be happy if I could afford one night but hey rates may be cheap.
Don’t own a tent. Maybe I could borrow Knight Chris’s. Don’t believe that
Knight Derek has a tent. Or sleep in the minivan and turn on the heat every
couple hours.

The things we do for faith in our own dreams…

Listen to this reading of my new poem:

a happy idiot

 

my book Space Christals is available on Amazon

a happy idiot


Image

i have my survey map,
my lamp and shovel

there is no trail
but the landmarks are clear
it can’t be much farther

the sun sits
at just the right angle
for my little endeavor

my heart beats faster
as i hear the rush of Griswold Creek

i drop my gear
and take a drink of water
from my canteen
wipe my brow

miles from the road
but this is the spot
the survey says so

gather up the gear and head off
toward the banks of the creek
and in three minutes

i am standing on a small bluff
overlooking a turn in the bed
and put down my gear

looking around and
humming  “not fade away”

time to get started

i find a clear spot
five feet from the bank
and spread the map out on the ground

looks like plenty of digging
on this side of the creek
and the sun
oh, the sun!

along the banks
that’s where the treasure lies

i dig one hole into the bank
three feet deep
and water begins to pool
in the muddy bottom

nothing

methodically
i dig like this
until the sun begins to hang low

the light isn’t right
but i’ve waited too long
i’m not stopping now

and the full moon
is already cresting the treeline

try the other bank beneath the moonlight?
or head home and hope for another day

i am the happy idiot by the creek
digging for rainbows in the banks

11.30.20..12

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