February 2011
99 posts
Aint That Some Shit?
Just thinking about how Johnny Cash was almost killed by an ostrich. It crushed some of his ribs, and if he hadn’t been wearing a belt, the bird would’ve eviscerated him. A belt kept his guts from spilling out all over his walking trail.
During his recovery, he got addicted to the pain killers and checked himself into Betty Ford. There, he met and became friends with Ozzy.
January 2011
97 posts
What's your favorite color?
Mine is green, but don't let that influence you.
pathetic
I woke up three times last night, and you were the first thing that popped into my mind each time. I hate that. I want you out of my head. I want you out of my heart. The thing is, I let you matter too much for too long. I need to get back to the place where you don’t matter, where I don’t think and worry about you. I need to get back to the place where I don’t care. But...
mumblingnigglr:
Smooth Sounds of the 70's
Nothing makes me think so much of riding in a car with my mother as any song by James Taylor, Anne Murray, or Jim Croce. Songwriters on eight tracks, baby. Simple, sometimes mellow. Something that makes you smile, like you just smoked a bowl before you made love slow and steady for hours and hours.
So, as I write, I’m mellowing to these songs that remind me of my mother and road trips. ...
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Pork Chops and Liquid Loritab
Between Gonzoland and Highly-Populated Soupbowl City, there is a tiny blip of a town called Hilltop, which has one Texaco station. The quicky mart of the Texaco shares building space with a meat-and-three.
I am inside the restaurant, sipping sweet tea and waiting on my chicken fried steak. The young waitress, a bleach blond with inch-long dark roots and too much makeup, wipes tables while an...
Lifetime Movie Moment
I was reading while walking on my treadmill, enjoying how the sun hit me at the knees and warmed my legs. Suddenly, I felt that someone was outside in my front yard or parked along the curb in front of my house and staring in the window. He (of course it’s a guy) would watch my shoes flap against the black belt of the treadmill. He would see my winter-pale skin glowing from the sunlight, ...
drunken-soberness replied to your post: American Studies
I start my day standing naked in pre-dawn freezing air in my backyard. But I call it fucking with my repressed hag neighbor while she’s doing tai-chi.
Ha! Well, that certainly does sound like a great way to start the day. The “vigor” you receive should lengthen your life while the discomfort she feels shortens hers.
American Studies
Along with Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne, I read Ben Franklin’s full autobiography, including the damned journal, in an American Studies course. I have to say, even though it irritated me beyond reason, the man was somewhat entitled to his pompous, superior attitude. He invented or helped invent all sorts of useful things, and many quotes attributed to the Bible are things he said.
My...
buddyblanc replied to your post: Gonzoland: Hitman Capitol
I’ll add it to my itinerary!
Oh, man, that cracks me up!
Really though, there is nothing to see but a coal mining museum, a Wal-mart Supercenter, and a Methodist church built of white marble. Now that I think of it, while president of the U.S., Franklin D. Roosevelt once attended Sunday service at that church. There is a...
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Gonzoland: Hitman Capitol
The area where I grew up was once referred to on national television as the “hitman capitol of the United States.” I find that very hard to believe, but it has a notorious flare to it. We used to joke that for a six pack and some Camel Lights, you could hire anyone from Gonzoland to do anything. Its’ probably true. I will admit that the city and surrounding trafficlightless...
Tidying up
In an effort to instill some structure in this blog, I have decided to title all posts about my hometown “Gonzoland,” followed by a subtitle. This is a Jim Henson reference and tribute of sorts. Since I grew up in a town of weirdos, the name suits.
I'm beginning to think
I have some kind of sick fetish for rejection.
Missing you today
but there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
I don’t feel like writing when I’m missing you, so instead, I read a bit of a romance novel started writing four years ago. Four chapters in, I quit because of the dream I had where I was a rebel with a tattoo for every kill I’d made. That other story, well it’s kept me busy for a few years now but not today.
...
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Perceptions
Today, I worked on the series I’ve been writing for three years. The thing I love about writing is the ability to explore some facet of humanity, to pick it apart until it’s as fully dissected as I can manage. One of the things that comes up in the series is how people perceive each other and how the perception is often quite different from the reality.
Along those lines…
...
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Epic Battle
The rainbow-skinned seraph sensed the end. “We are not archangels. We were not meant for war,” she said to the winged centaur. “They will destroy us.”
The centaur, loving her and knowing nothing could be done, stomped about the room nervously. He scratched the wood floor with his hooves and threatened to knock over priceless heirlooms with one beat of his tawny wings. “We shouldn’t stay in...
drunken-soberness replied to your post: Muffin and Machine Gun
I want your dreams, you sick but lovable person. Actually, I just want to dream (or at least remember them, if I actually dream).
As long as I’m still lovable! :)
I kept a dream journal for a while. As soon as I woke up, I would grab my pen and write down everything I could remember about the dream - people, colors,...
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Muffin and Machine Gun
I blame Alex and Meg for this dream. It’s the nickname “Muffin.”
The chef set a basketball-sized muffin in front of me. It was cream-colored instead of golden brown, but it smelled like cake and was as soft and fluffy as foam shaving cream. With a smile, I poked it and then tore off a hunk. Inside, the heart of the muffin was just-melted dark chocolate chips. I swiped the...
Descartes
It’s painful to care about someone who doesn’t acknowledge your existence unless you’re in the same room together. Mariposa was the first person I ever met with this ability. I have always wondered if she is that way because her mind is so full of other things - worries, school, work, her lover, herself - that she has no room for anyone else, or if deep inside her, she believes...
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Rewards
We rotate who has the job of “breaking down” the grocery store rotisserie chicken. This time, it was my turn.
It’s unappealing to dig one’s fingers into the skin and fat of a (thankfully headless and footless) oven-hot bird carcass with the intent of prying the meat away and placing it in a refrigerator-safe vessel for future consumption. My fingers get slimy and...
drunken-soberness replied to your post: Retraction
Cool points promptly credited back to your account.
Cha-ching!
Retraction
I’d like to inform you all that the overwhelming suckiness of Shinedown outweighs the two or three interesting songs the group somehow managed to make. I hereby rescind my prior statements of liking them and can once again lift my head high.
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Pressure
Be sweet, be nice, be popular. Make friends, make cheerleader, make Mom proud.
She tried. She made cheerleader, but she was never mean enough to be popular. She was born sweet and nice and somehow managed to stay that way even when others treated her like shit. They did and do and will continue to, but she’ll love them anyway because she’s beautiful.
When she sent out invitations...
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Solitary
An excerpt from the third book. Camellia’s (or Cami, as her friends and family call her in the first book) thoughts:
I knew that if I saw him, it would be all I could to do hold myself together. I needed to be strong. I needed to nurture the coldness in me that I had seemingly abandoned weeks ago. I should’ve been working on that. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t have cared who had me. I...
Dead Zone
Now that I am no longer under the influence of beer and I re-read my Tumblubber from last night/this morning, I remembered something very interesting about the dive.
The place has a “porch” around the entrance, which is really just a fenced yard with benches where you can drink and smoke while waiting on a table. There is a sign that says, “No drinks beyond this point.” ...
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Each time I drink, I start to think I'm ten feet...
Yes, that’s a Travis Tritt reference, and kiss my ass if you don’t like it. I listened to country hard-core for about a year in high school as it suited my pipes perfectly. It just so happened that I also listened to NWA, Too Short, Led Zepplin, and Pink Flyod, too. To say my taste in music is eclectic is…well, an understatement.
But I digress!!
It is rare for me to drink...
Tonight
I’m going to stand out in 20º weather with my best friend (who I mention here and here) and our guys and drink beers while we wait on a table at the best dive restaurant in the whole city.
Wait…holy fuck…I just found a picture of it online:
I guess you really can find anything online.
The place has the best filet mignon in the state, which is impressive, especially since it...
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When in Vegas
see a Cirque du Soleil show. This includes guys and gals. Since buddyblanc is planning to visit again, I thought I’d write a post about my experience with Zumanity. I have seen Mystere’ and O as well. If you’re a Beatles fan, check out Love. I plan to see Ka’ the next time I go.
Zumanity, the sensual side of Cirque.
At fifteen minutes to curtain, the gigolo strutted...
Sharing
Okay, so since Scotto was willing to put himself out there, I’m going to do it, too. Below, find the first two pages (single spaced) of my first novel. I started writing it three years ago, before the market was flooded. It’s the first in a series of which I have written 5 books so far. The sixth is still in draft. I doubt they’ll ever be published, and I’ve written...
Confession Time
Okay, I admit it! I love Shinedown. (covering my head) Well, some of it anyway.
“I’m not angry. I’m just saying, sometimes good-bye is a second chance.”
I hope I haven’t spent all the cool-points I earned with my cartoon and hot sex posts.
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Gonzoland: Roadside Memorials
On the way to my parents’ place, there is a rather large pine tree growing close to the edge of the road. In my largely rural hometown, houses and roads are built as to intrude upon nature as little as possible. Lined with pines and hardwoods, the road to my parents’ neighborhood is hilly, and so it has narrow shoulders with steep drop-offs in many places.
What makes this one tree so...
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Strike While the Mood Is Hot
Note: Fluffy got a hard-on from reading my draft of this post. You don’t get better approval than that, my friend!
He came to the Writing Center every Friday at 4 p.m. After three consecutive weeks, she expected him – a nervous Biology student with a knack for ocean flora and a bad habit of ending sentences with prepositions. She was a grad student in English, earning her keep by...
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About this whole writing thing
I may never have my work published. I’d love it, but I know the odds are not in my favor. That would be true even if I could command the English language beautifully. My artistically executed sentences and phrases are sporadic if existent at all. I don’t have the ability to build a monologue that serves no other purpose than to be a lovely piece of writing. I just can’t. It...
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Flipping
I’ve reached the point where I’m tempted to resort to the old flip-a-coin method of decision making.
I need to take control. I’m afraid to take control.
I want to actively choose, and yet I don’t because if I do, then failure will be my fault and not the fault of the universe. I don’t want the blame. I want to be able to point my finger and say, “Damn...
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Hench Life
Oh, Gary, you’re not just #21 to me either.
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Why I shouldn't eat after midnight or why I...
Because I have seriously screwy dreams like this…
I swiveled about in a black leather office chair, holding a clear plastic clipboard. My white lab coat covered a black suit. No nylons and four-inch black patent leather heels. My right leg over my left knee, and it bounced in rhythm to the game music.
Three study participants, gamers if you will, sat in three black bean bags in the...
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Where the Wild Things Hunt
Shadow stood on the edge where the dormant grass met the rip-rap-covered bank. In the bay, the water gently lapped against grayish rocks. Rusty water, made less inviting by the bright sunlight. Through oval glasses he didn’t need, he stared out at the ferry that approached the docks. He’d been compelled to wear them, putting on the face of an intellectual. People stereotyped...
At times, I wish I could be the kind of person that never looks back and never looks ahead but always lives fully in the present. I would never worry about what I did or what I might do. I would have no memories and no goals. I would be free in so many ways. But, wouldn’t I also be empty?
Well, it doesn’t really matter anyway. I can’t be that kind of person. I’m...
Baker Street
by Gerry Rafferty…because it reminds me of several someones who mean something that matters. Listen/Watch.
ireadintothings:
I love people, even when they are sad, or mean, or angry… I mostly just love people and I wish I could always make everyone feel better… like getting a postcard from a loved one does. But if I were a postcard, I would be a picture of the sea, and I would say “I love you,” and there would be no sender or return address because it’s just better this way. Something beautiful and...
Filtering
When it comes to editing the written word, I am fastidious, obsessive, and never quite happy with the end result. This is true whether I’m writing an email to my mom or a post for a blog. The reason is because I know someone is going to read it, and maybe that’s an arrogant assumption. I often wrestle with whether it’s ego, emotion, amusement, or some combination of the...