I used to be such a BIG Tolkien fan. The "Lord Of The Rings" Trilogy, I mean. From the time when I was less than 20 until some time in my forties, I read it at least 5 times, once every 5 years approximately. I guess I may be overdue at this point, though I did see the movies when they came out. Perhaps that will count for one! In any case, I hardly need to read them again, I have overdone it already. I can wait a little while. Even though I miss it, like a former cigarette smoker misses his smokes! My soul is not my own! But I am older now and I can resist the urge. I will, and not be angry that I can no longer discuss it with my friends. By the time I saw the movies, there was hardly anyone I knew who wanted to speak of it, whether they liked it or not. They're old, too; they saw it, that was it, it was over. If they discussed it, it was with someone else and they had no breath left for it when I came around. I was sorry for that, but there's nothing to be done about it. I sometimes think that even people who cared about it have discussed art and literature to the point where they want to puke. And I don't want them to puke on me. So mostly I have hushed. Most of them I don't even tell about my clownish multi-colored blog. They would probably think that I was running it on my last braincell and that wouldn't be far wrong. I am not the boy I used to be.
1. Carnal Cupcakes (Food for Fuckers)
2. Gumbo With Moon Pie
3. Cattle Cargo Pants
4. Sucker Buckets
5. French Fries And Tapioca
6. Your Mo And My Ma
7. A Puddle Of Muddle
8. Lapse of Traipse
9. Retracing Your Faces
11. Corpulent Cannonball Diving Team
12. Cataracts On Parade
13. Hildegarde With Pudgy Hilltops
14. Arbiter Of Arbogast
15, My Streisand Songs All Sound Alike!
16. His Dick For Her Pat?
17. Web Feet On My Back
18. This Way Out Of My Pants
19. Boiling Blubber And Geese
20. Fixated On Twasmasmosis
21. Pugnacious And Tantamount--A New Dance Team
22. Lanolin Cures My Irritation!
23. Yancey Putzmore, Riverboat Gambler
24. Cantilevered Cantaloupe
25. Swivelling Swineherd Havahart Traps
26. Sanitary Pigeon Trojans
27. Credulous Cardigans
28. Wasp-Waist Wimps
29. Receding Hairlines Of The Hippie Generation
30. Doped Up On Dilbert
A week or ten days ago, I was carrying a laundry basket through the door to the washroom when I just smashed my left hand into the door frame! I couldn't believe what a long scar I'd made and how much it bled. Being diabetic, my healing is slow and I've been fighting it and babying it ever since. I try to keep band aids on it all the time. Aside from wanting to protect it from further bashing since it's sore, this IS after all the hand I do my toilet business with (no Arabic nonsense, I'm just left-handed) and I'd like to keep it clean, thank you. So I've been through a lot of band aids lately, a thing I would ordinarily not wear for years at a time. Back when I was younger or still not diabetic, I'd heal fast; at worst I'd only have to wear a band aid the day of the injury. Now it's ten days later and I can tell it's healing, but it's still tender and doesn't like to be BASHED against anything, not even me.
Today I replaced those semi-shoddy stuck-together old cheap ones with some new Johnson & Johnson Band-Aids! Some kind of flexible plastic/fabric (in packages that rips open without fighting me), and they peel apart without making me feel incompetent, and therefore makes me feel GOOD that I'm a man (human)!
Isn't it pitiful what mundane, cheap-ass crap can bring ecstasy to an aging unpleasant man?
1. Culture Vultures
2. Warmonger Thongs
3. Peace For My Birthday, War For Christmas
4. Elusive Blatherskite
5. Those Torrid Dwimmerlaiks
6. Peddling Penis All Over Town (Bio of A Gay Boy)
7. Tumultuous Bumpy Tan Bodies
8. Girls On The Watch For A Sausage
9. Pedantic Puppies
10. Botchers, Butchers, And Watchers
11. Cocaine In My Soup
12. Piddle Me Elmo
13. Emails From Kissing Karl to Mrs. Tuna
14. Burger Pals To The End
15. Shotguns Aimed At The Stars
16. Dotchmo No Komo Que?
17. Hot Buxom Shieldmaidens
18. Pissing At The Opera One Night
19. Cheese Squid
20. Don't Touch That!
Alvin Duke Aladocious: "I don't believe that a thing is true just because I believe it. I may believe that alligators are kind, but I will be relieved of that view if I'm ever around any alligators that are hungry!"
A cryptic poem, yet comprehensible to me, and one that I admire for its wordy convolutions, based on a peculiar view of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's wild character in "Rime Of The Ancient Mariner", called
located at my pugnacious poetry blog, Judy Garland Blues.
There I Was Again
There I was again, always wanting my way,
Fairly insistent on getting it, but ever subtle,
Barely ever showing my ass at the beginning,
But always on the lookout for that sea of blues
Seen from afar as if in mind already far astern
Or deeply drowned in my own self-delusions
Or sunk in the swells by my own top-heavy stately hats…
Oh, darling, I guess
I’ve gotten older and quicker on the gun.
I was at ease and you were talking nonstop
About freedom and love and the endless exercise of peace.
You were lovely, as lovely as any, and it broke my heart
That you talked and talked, and I could imagine you
Easily on a green mountain-top with a view of even greener trees,
And you were finally quiet there, but I couldn’t see me there.
In the old days, I would have started smoking cigarettes
And looking worried about rain, autumnal bugs, and late supper,
Not knowing how to say I was just waiting for you to shut up.
rcs.
2nd draft: 02/20/07
©2007 Ronald C. Southern
For those of you who are retired or else are trying to fill long evenings, I recommend a criminally long short story called
at my fiction blog, Dogger Gatsby's Blues. I put it there, not only because it is criminally long, but because I want to collect all my short fiction in one place. Whatever happens, happens!
Sir Winston Churchill: "I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals."
1. Blood Stains and Snail Trails
2. Clinging To The Vines And Rocks By My Teeth
3. Twisted And Gutted
4. Fulbright and Fushbucket
5. Looking For A Lost Dingus
6. Flummoxed By Fate
7. Furry in Spandex Tights
8. Lunch In The Ozone Again
9. Dirty Dang Dimple!
10. My Beautiful Burnt Beard
11. Return To Bender--My Drinking Life
12. Importunities In Abstention
13. Blood Dripping From Iridescent Beetles
14. Vacation In Vanilla
15. Steroids And Hatbands
16. Cold Meat Warming On The Radio
17. A Crooked President And Halliburton
18. Paris Hilton And Other Disasters
19. Pierced To The Gut (A Virgin In Hollywood)
20. Surly Christians Video-taped In Drag
Things I don't make a habit of, but have done:
1. Done a Paul Reubens in a porno movie theater (pre-video, pre-Internet), but didn't get arrested.
2. Removed my shirt on a public street. Totally out of character.
3. Had to pee so bad while driving home that I couldn't make it past my first step out onto my driveway before I...peed my pants. One time's enough.
4. Loosened a woman's blouse and bra in a romantic moment until she told me the moment wasn't romantic. My chagrin! She was very nice about it, though.
5. Made love to a life-sized self-portrait (art-work) of a nude woman. Not inflatable!
6. Stole books from a bookstore just because a friend of mine worked there and said, "Go ahead."
7. Stole money from someone who never knew it (and I wasn't a kid).
8. Borrowed and turned over some one's motorbike, but didn't tell them about the wreck. It wasn't hurt.
9. Violated a plump beautiful red-haired woman's watchband. It was the most intimate I could get with her at the time!
10. Betrayed a close friend, not only with his wife, but by telling him about it as if it would be good for him. That was debatable.
Just think, these are the things that I'm NOT too embarrassed to tell!
Things I don't much do, but may have, anyway:
1. Accompany the little children to the "potty".
2. Carve a turkey.
3. Fart in public and make a big deal about it. Like loudly blaming someone else--haw haw, I'm a clown.
4. Listen to Lawrence Welk.
5. Read a romance novel.
6. Tolerate dull people.
7. Shit in the woods (bad balance).
8. Drink the city water (my city, anyway).
9. Dust the house.
10. Sweep the driveway.
I can't believe to what extent every politician in the country is playing the same word-game that Bush is playing about "supporting the troops". How would ANYONE not support the troops? And why does everyone evade the obvious, that in a situation where we've already lost the war and lost the support of the American people, it would better serve us to support the troops by sending planes, trucks, boats, lawyers, guns, and money to help them withdraw as fast as conceivable?
Why do we want IN ANY FASHION to delay? Why fight a war that only Bush supports under the pretense that otherwise we are "failing to support the troops"?
Is everybody in the damn country stupid? Are all the politicians crazy? Bush doesn't want to support the troops himself; he wants to expend their lives in fighting for HIS war. Being too sorry to bring the troops home when the war is lost—we can see that we can't win it—THAT'S not supporting the troops, goddammit!
And please don't pester me about being a coward. Of course, I am! But the men and women in the U.S. services aren't, and we owe it to them not to leave them in Iraq to die just because George Bush has this phony concept that HE is a brave and resolute man! Resolute, stubborn, stupid, yes. Not brave.
| Your Candy Heart Says "Get Real" |
 You're a bit of a cynic when it comes to love. You don't lose your head, and hardly anyone penetrates your heart. Your ideal Valentine's Day date: is all about the person you're seeing (with no mentions of v-day!) Your flirting style: honest and even slightly sarcastic What turns you off: romantic expectations and "greeting card" holidays Why you're hot: you don't just play hard to get - you are hard to get |
A couple of my old friends, both long gone. How could it have been so long?! Check them out,
at my poetry blog, Judy Garland Blues.
Anna Nicole Smith is dead?! Will mysteries never cease? It would have no significance at all to the public if it wasn't just one more sensational event in a cascade of sensational events in her life! What could possibly be more sensational than one's death at 39? It's the classic path to martyrdom, no matter how one lived one's life. There's nothing left now but the lawyers, weasels, and vampires, and they will go on and on. Maybe it will be like Charles Dicken's "Bleak House" where the law case in the Court of Chancery went on until court costs ate the whole estate and left nothing!
I'm just not comfortable without a fairly steady flow of email messages and comments. I'm not. Today has been incrediby slow. One comment that I didn't allow. And only 2 or 3 emails, one of which was Blogger business. I NEED MORE!!! 'Nuff said?
Too late in the day to make any difference, though. Eyes getting tired, and fingers cold. Everybody else is nearly in bed. Come on, sleepyheads, let's go out and get something to eat! I usually don't have any appetite, you know? You missed your chance.
There are five new stories on Dogger Gatsby's Blues
starting with "Another Convoluted Conversation".
I have also finally applied Ramani's (Hackosphere) hack to create "expandable summaries". It just means you can review what's there more quickly and then click on "Read more" if you want to go beyond the summary (first paragraph or two). Less clicking involved for perusers and surfers or those just searching for a permalink!
Though Ramani's hack works very elegantly, I messed it up 3 times, then got it right on the 4th attempt. So it's something that you have to pay close attention to WHERE in the template code you are placing the new code! But it can be done. Just be sure to start out with a good copy of the current blog and you too can flub it without paying too high a price!
[In my youth when I was a leathercraftsman selling wares on The Drag in Austin, I was crass and vulgar, and I still partly am. I'm sorry, but there’s no escaping it.]
Judy Blue was a pleasant young woman who seemed to hunger for something. She hung around the drag being smiley until it finally got through my skull that she was after me. She asked me out—a strange enough phenomenon, I thought—though I was at that very moment about to ask her. It seemed like fortuitous timing on both sides. We were both beyond ready.
Judy Blue had washed-out blonde hair, very small breasts for her body size, was somewhat thick waisted. Judy Blue fucked me sweaty and senseless in her garage apartment bed on the first date. We took a shower where we washed, fingered, and caressed each other for a long time. Then we fucked again in the bed until we were sweating as much as before. We didn't take a second shower, though.
I went over one night while she was baby-sitting her nephew. I wanted to fuck Judy Blue so bad that night, but she was too responsible, afraid her 4-year-old nephew would see her getting drilled. Baby-sitting the nephew was her infrequent opportunity to play mommy, so she wasn’t about to forego that pleasure for the pleasure of being poked by me. It was no contest, I guess. I wanted to at least neck heavily while the kid was in the other room and ostensibly asleep, but Judy wouldn’t do that, either. She was very cautious, I thought, for a girl who’d get on top and suck your cock. You can see I wasn’t very pleasant about losing out like that.
I remember that at first, Judy Blue didn't give head. After a few dates and not enough fucks, I decided she was boring and silly. I let her slide. She showed up again six or eight months later when I’d forgotten all about her, asking me to re-dye a belt I'd sold her before we ever became involved. She turned me on all over again and, like a fool, I asked her out again. She was silly enough to accept. Sex provokes and promotes! I got to fuck her some more. What's more, she'd learned somewhere in the meanwhile how to suck men off and offered to do me. I let her do it, of course. I was young and “Never miss an opportunity” was my motto. Like most of my amorous connections, she sucked but didn't swallow. I wish I could remember it better. It must have been incredible fun. I’d like to do it again right now! This second period of our liaisons didn't last long; a couple or three dates, that's all. That firm young twat attached to her pale pudgy body moved on down the road while I was vague, careless, and noncommittal.
Judy Blue is the one I always remember having fucked three times in a short span of time one night (such sexual athleticism for a fat guy like me!). It was just because every time we finished, there was nothing to talk about! The only thing to do was to fuck her again! So I did! After that I went home to the house on Grand View (where my housemate was a girl that I wasn’t even poking) and masturbated myself to sleep. Weird, but Judy induced a state of arousal in me that I absolutely couldn't satisfy. It wasn't her fault that she couldn’t satisfy it, either.
I saw her later at a downtown art theatre for movies, where she was very cozy with a young black man with only one hand. He extended his stub to be shaken. I don’t mean to be racist or cruel to her, but I doubted somehow his suitability for her. I thought he was probably just one more male in her marriage-trap, maybe even the last one; she was seriously looking for a husband, I always felt, which is probably why I kept bailing out of her life. I never took her as seriously as she took me, and therefore knew I'd never make a husband for her. That was a long time ago; turns out I've never make one for anybody, though, didn't it?
Go read a poem about another sexy female called
at Judy Garland Blues.
Elizabeth Taylor: "The problem with people who have no vices is that generally you can be pretty sure they're going to have some pretty annoying virtues."
One more poetry referral can't hurt. Go read about another sexy girl called
at Judy Garland Blues.
Good poems get buried so deep on the Internet,
It seems like they may never be found again.
Nobody’s really looking very hard to start with
And then it turns out that they’re hidden
In heaps of other labeled stuff or on separate blogs
That are difficult to spot and trouble to sift through.
Who likes poetry so much any more
That they’ll search through heaps of crossed wires
And musty brittle baskets of old paper flowers
Just to find a few sweet candies
That somehow haven’t gone bad yet.
Even I don’t do all that any more!
In short, next time you read a good poem, leave a comment because you're probably never going back!!!
If you have any balls or just enough gall, go to a short poem at
Judy Garland Blues calledIt's dark. It's heavy. But it's elegant. (And it's short!)
Check out
at my poetry blog, Judy Garland Blues
I have been going in and out and up and down repeatedly, trying to adequately finish and perfect the decorative graphics and/or headers for my several blogs, including some that are just practice blogs. It won't work! Or, should I say, it won't come to an end! There is NO such thing as perfection. I keep changing and improving and revising, but...sigh! I have decided to adopt a new rule of thumb: DON'T work on it anymore or you'll make it worse! It's like picking at a scab, for God's sake!
See these overly-decorated familiar blogs, if you care to be bored to tears and/or infuriated. Look at the bottom of each front page as well as the top.
Most Frequent Blogger Questions
Dogger Gatsby's Blues
Judy Garland Blues
Well, that's what somebody said on another blog! Of course, it might have been one of my other obscene blogs. I have extras for practice. Too bad I don't have anything better to do. Too bad I can't do anything better. You'd appreciate it, I'm sure. Instead, you went to the trouble of coming here today and this is all there is!
Shitfire, kick him in the knees!!
Hmmph! Okay. At YOUR own risk, buddy (or buddy-ette)! Anyway, got to buzz on out of here now before the behavioral-thought police descend on my ass and carry me off.
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DEAR SIDEBAR JUNKIES: Have I been eccentric enough lately? Lord knows I try. I'd hate to be accused of being too kind. |
