Sleep

Sometimes I think that that it's gotten too late, That it's my fate, When in fact it is always late And always my fault. I used to go to bed at odd times, But now I find the time is always pretty near, No matter what. I have nothing to catch up with tomorrow And nothing is catching up with me tonight Except this deep cold death-like sleep.

Whatcha Got?

Not About Cute Puppies!

Some people worry about what I write and sometimes try to commiserate with me or "talk me down" or otherwise display sympathy. Those people are very nice, of course, to show such concern, though I sometimes wish that more of them would remember that you can't apply your normal human sympathies to a Writer. I can't claim to be a Great Writer, but I am a compulsive one at times--when I finally get around to writing, I carry on as Writers have always done. I write about things that exist and things that don't, about people I know and people i imagine, about situations and places that may or may not be real. I'm not one of those writers who always dependably writes about one thing or even about all things in some predictable same old way. I have impersonated many men or "characters". On occasion I have written from the point of view of women, children, animals, and (once) a bright red fire-engine. I admit I'm evasive, but if you think you're reading my "code" when you find a blog post to be provocative, you need to remember that it's writing. It's not all fake, I don't say that at all; it's just not all real, either. If you are inspired to be responsive, critique the writing or its public effect on your private heart, if you like. But you don't have to bleed on me or weep over me or send red roses or threaten my life for speaking carelessly about your favorite puppies! If I were held accountable for every extreme posture or odd position I've ever taken in writing, I'd be in deep shit, I know, so I hope it never happens. We are all here for pleasure, so show me what you've got!

I Pushed Paul Simon Down The Stairs

It Was An Accident!
I can only see my face in the mirror! Something has gone terribly wrong with this dream! Okay, so maybe this wasn't a poem. Does the Taxman care? Will the Dogcatcher worry that he's a dogcat? Will the Doctor grin and barf on my shoes Or does he expect me to do Everything myself?!

Strange Old Freak

Sometimes I'm not sure How to pretend to be me Or how to maintain the fiction That I'm a nice old guy who reads too much And wouldn't try to fuck your wife or daughter If you looked the other way too long. No sir, I wouldn't steal your motorcycle or your Mustang, Or so I say, but windows and doors And a locked garage are always good For a little peace of mind in a world of strangers, And just because you've known me a while Doesn't mean I'm not still pretty strange!

Winnowing

YOU can be nice about it, if you want to, but it's my plan to be bitter, spiteful, and to complain at every opportunity. I know it's ugly, but I was intolerant and intolerable when I started this blog--it's just taken a good long while to winnow out most of the readers who stumbled across me (like a corpse in the middle of a dark road)! The last few are pretty obstinate; I wonder if I'll have to shoot those few Zombies? Maybe one of them will loan me a gun? Guess then I'd know which was the most ignorant!

Overheard in a Denny's Late At Night

Dry Conversation

"Well, I have to admit," Roger said, "that it's easier to be a Big Snot from an Internet distance than it is to be friendly from an Internet distance." "Oh, yeah?" Jennie grinned. "Is that why you bury your head in your blog and try to be rude to everyone?" "As fast as I can!" Roger nodded. "How fast is that?" Jenny asked. "I don't see you breaking a sweat." "Since my stroke last year, it's been hard to hurry anywhere. But on the blog, no one can tell how slowly I hurry!" "Maybe they infer it. Maybe they're reading between the lines." "If any of them bothered to do that," Roger smirked, "I might become A Better Man! Or maybe I'd put on more of a show!" "You don't know how to act." Jenny shook her head. "I'm a bastard, but not an insincere one, huh?"

Life Goes on

Life's been hard, But what the fuck did you expect? Time goes traipsing by and treads on you And tramples you in the mud and breaks your arms and leg And ruins your grin, but doesn't kill you yet. Ain't it wonderful how Life goes on?

Pass Me The Bigger Half

Mark Twain: "The universal brotherhood of man is our most precious possession, what there is of it."

The World Cares

I don't care what anybody says, I want to commit more crimes before I die! What harm could it possibly do? The world already cares little for me, and I reciprocate!

Just Drawn Bad?

Doxie: floozy. Need we get graphic?
I heard that Playboy Corporation bought out Disneyland. Or was it the other way around? What difference would it make--either way, it sounds like my kind of fantasy! Roger Rabbit's sweet doxie Jessica had it right, you know!!!