Growing

He was a burgeoning misfit and sinking morass, A growing maniac That any and all could see Could not be hindered, He was a worry to his family And a blot on the reports and repartee that Self-appointed experts or his fading friends might make That ought to please, yet nothing pleased... Spectacular moonbeams like monograms on the wane And steeped in wine, robust movements Of comfortable pillows On top of twisted mangled bowels, Tawdry dreams and lacklustre schemes And the old bitch science, who's failing Each and every one of us And falling down, from grace in drag, On Tuesdays and every Friday... It has all squashed my resistance now And heaped up this poverty of appetites Until every lick of poetry in the bowl Is more sticky and more satisfying Than oatmeal on lumber that's never sweet,

Dead Mouse

I was offline for about a day because my second effort to clean my mouse killed it! The fact that I've cleaned mice previously doesn't matter much, evidently, because it froze up and wouldn't show any sign of life. I was going to consult my nephew about it (he might still have my optical mouse that travelled to his house), but he was out of town, so I broke down and bought a new one. It's not as if they're expensive. I paid $20, but there were $10 ones! Considering how much gunk I found in the mouse that just died, I think I'm pretty happy to be back with an optical mouse, not to mention a new one! This Microsoft bugger sure does move fast comparatively! I keep running right off the screen.

Bail Me Out, Too, Mister!

Daniel Webster: "A strong conviction that something must be done is the parent of many bad measures."

Bellies

I knew a girl, I didn't know her very well, I used to tell myself, though, How I'd love to belly up to her Even if our bellies were all that was involved Except for our kisses. There should always be kisses, Slow and long and lingering on the lips... Meanwhile, she was just so fucking cute I couldn't bear it And couldn't wait any more And I fell to sticking my tongue in her While she rolled and jerked around! It was very nice of her to like it so well, I thought, When I myself liked it so much! I'd love to tickle her somewhere, Anywhere that would tickle her! Oh, what an effect that would be! But I'm not all that cool And can't pretend to be, at least not for long, So do I know her or not?

Authority

Albert Einstein: "To punish me for my contempt for authority, fate made me an authority myself."

Goddamn

While riding as a passenger in a car the other day, I was jarred by an unexpected speed bump and exclaimed "Goddamn", as I am (at the least) wont to do at any significant provocation. The driver bit my head off for it (exclaiming "That didn't hurt you!"), apparently forgetting for a minute what decades have passed since the 1950's when nobody except auto mechanics (like my father) ever said bad words. I'm not in favor of teaching "bad language" to children, but anybody who can drive a goddamn car is way too old and experienced (I would have thought) to try to crush me for that particular sin. I have to admit that I'm an extremist. I cuss a lot and I do so emphatically, most especially when I'm alone or think no one's close enough to hear me rant. But I wonder about the driver's statement that the sudden bump "didn't hurt" me. True enough. But the truth is that the only way I could avoid such neurotic automatic responses would be if I were someone else or if I were taking powerful pills (don't I take enough already?) for my nerves. I would need some pretty serious dope. I don't like to be startled! I am pretty constantly tensed up in expectation of some surprise, pain, or shock, whether it be an expectation of pain in my back from leaning over to pick up objects or the fear that objects I need to move will be too heavy or the dread that a four year old boy will rush at me in fun and knock me off balance and onto my ass! Don't laugh--when his older sister was young, she knocked me down in just that way and it was both difficult and embarrassing to get myself picked up again. You may think those fears are pathetic; I certainly do--but it's the condition my life's been in for a few years now and I don't know how to fix it so that I couldn't possibly offend someone's sensibilities. Well, I could kill myself, but surely no act of Harikiri is required here! If there's a problem, just bugger off, and let me do the same!

Reference To An Old Song

I'm an old pipsqueak from the Rio Grande, But I promise I won't press the issue. Actual song lyrics at my old post about The Old Cowhand

Onset Of Boredom?

I answered 2 or 3 other easy-as-pie questions on Blogger Help Group since Monday, but my energy level is pretty low about it. I don't have nearly as much commitment or obsession as I used to have. Well, we'll see. Some things fade away in life, whether they be lovers or just loved things. Maybe I'll learn to just go and pick my nose until it bleeds; that'll keep me busy.

Woogie, Ancient Blog*Star From Hell!

I answered some silly question (easy one) on Blogger Help Group today, the first one I've answered in a couple of months. All the other questions seemed to require some thinking on my part, so I didn't answer any of them. Maybe my habits have changed at last and I can't get back in the habit of being a Blogger knowitall? It could be. Just a tainted, water-damaged, rusty old Blog*Star ready for the garbage heap. Let it rain on me. It doesn't hurt, though, so what does it matter? Maybe this is another retirement from Retirement? I can't keep track.

Crazy?

IN THE DREAM I BURNED IT ALL In the dream I burned it all, First the letters never sent, Then the ones addressed to me. Next came my poems and stories— Every paper draft, every final page. Then came the program files— Truth, fiction, databases, all— All melted in the flame. Then all the leather, raw and finished. I don’t know why I’m so surprised To see how well that skin will burn— Even hide as thick as that. Only this lazy cognizance remains, and it seems Too poor a thing to lay much claim to fame. Or am I merely stating That I'm starting over, Standing in a circle, Like some crazy syphilitic phoenix? rcs. 3rd draft: 10/19/08