That was then and this is now. Five years or more. It happens in a bowling alley, or at the end of a night. There’s this water flowing freely under a bridge. There’s Christ and good and something in between. That all happened before now, and so much has happened since. I like to think we have all moved on. I think we have. We have to have. People of my life...
I haven’t followed that closely this whole “race-baiting” thread that’s been going back and forth between the Obama and Clinton camps that much. To be honest, it doesn’t really interest me that much other than it did not raise it’s head until now, when we are about to head into the Nevada caucuses and the SC primary, the first two primary states with substantial enough minority populations for race to be a factor. But today I read this article about good ole New York Rep. Charlie Rangel. He was once the man that I took the unpopular stance among my friends to side with over the issue of reinstating the draft. The way that issue got portrayed was that he was saying the draft is pure good and that we need it, when he was actually saying that if the sons of politicians were eligible to be conscripted, the congress might not take so lightly the decision to declare war. I understood this logic. But today I am baffled by his statements supporting Hillary Clinton’s recent MLK faux pas. (As an aside, I am not so sure that I still agree with Rangel’s idea to reintroduce the draft. Upon further consideration over the last couple of years I have realized that the rich and powerful have always figured out ways to keep their kids from having to really be in the shit – e.g. our president (W)) Whereas the subsequent fallout of the Clinton MLK/LBJ statement does seem a little overblown to me, I do believe it is validly available for critique. She was being a politician, a white...
So I just started this week at a new Job with CNN, and whereas it has been an interesting start, I have kind of had to do a roll-your-own training schedule that has left me with lots of time to check out the site and keep up with the daily news, even down to a granular level. So today I am looking and I see this story about Ron Paul being a racist, or about some old remarks attributed to him, or some other sort of thing. The story didn’t startle me as much as it may have others. I do believe Paul when he says he did not write the things that are being attributed to him, but they apparently were written under the banner of a political newsletter bearing his name. Regardless of whether he wrote it or not, he should have protected his “brand” (his name) a little better. But all of that is neither here nor there, the real question is whether or not the Internet will shut down if Ron Paul does not receive the Republican nomination for president? An acquaintance of mine recently boldly stated that the Internet would indeed shut down if Paul does not get the nomination at his house one night after he had imbibed at least a couple of pints of Irish Whiskey. I do not know this person or his political views very well. I do know that he is smallish, has a tendency toward a Napoleon complex at times, and that if he has an opinion at all about something, it is a STRONG opinion. I really...
It’s sweet that I kissed your cheek, but what I wanted was full-on-the-lips kissing, the cheek was nice enough and all, but I still imagine tongues in each other’s mouths, don’t remember what it felt like with you, but I imagine. And I imagine holding hands at movies and while we drove down the road. I imagine I imagine many things that never existed. I imagine your hair all piled up on your head in the morning, and the time that I decided french toast would be good for several weekends. I imagine one million cigarettes on the front porch and a few hundred foot rubs that I could’ve done better, and I imagine the time we went to Italy in the summer and decided to stay in bed for one whole day. I imagine the day I proposed with the ring I thought to be ill-fated and you said yes and I imagine the time in late spring when we got married out by the river and we were barefoot. I imagine the kids, all off to college now, and retirement fast approaching, and possibly the cliche RV in the near future. I imagine, despite a full working furnace, and the thermostat turned up amply high, that the bed will be cold tonight, the pillow will...
So many friends of mine here in my space tonight, some that know me, many that do not. I will soon post the favorite albums (CDs) of the year post. We should all wait it out till morning. We should all love each other and suffer in the morning. We need that commitment to one another, since we have nothing that equals it in our past or current life. I love each and every one of you. I do. I promise our parents will ever know the...
And she keeps hitting me in the fucking kidneys. And I like it. No I don’t. He’s kicking me in the teeth. I am sorry. No teeth. No luck. All sorrow. Good weekend. I just want to read that book that yo wrote back then.
There’s a drunk and another drunk at the bar and they are both failing horribly at telling the punchline to some jokes that they earlier have practiced way too much. He’s Andre and she’s sally. The people on TV are talking too much about porcupines. If I could bite off the ass of a porcupine it would mean so little. I would still just be the guy who bit off the ass of a porcupine. It would not win me points on match.com. It would make me pariah amongst the friends. I could love though. Mouth full of quills. Quills inmy mouth, writing the things I cannot say on my own. I miss so...
I don’t like writing about the good stuff. Not necessarily the bad stuff. Just the difficult stuff. That is what I prefer. But tonight driving through this town tonight, during this time of the year that I have a psychologically disposition to breaking down, was like flying. I have laughed until my sides hurt. I have realized there is someone that knows the ends of all of my family stories when the beginnings are told. I think there are songs that can and will be sung. I think I will make it through these holidays, and the rest will become...
There are soldiers out tonight, even in this city. I have seen them in their clandestine suits. I have wondered about them through dreams. Tomorrow will be another dream day for this fallen one. I am not broken or foresaken. Just fallen at this point. From the top of the hill over there the scout can see everything and with that everything he cannot move. He want to tell his comrades what there is to come, but he just stand still and the whole world passes, at once, through his eye. That is the nature of the scout. He has to understand it all. The soldier should understand very little if anything. There is this and there’s the hospital. There’s a nurse with a tender touch, or there’s another day. When they saw the whites of the eyes the muskets came ablastin’. The scout dreamed, closed his eyes and composed letters to his wife. There was 30 shot initially, and one when they came face to face. Was it brothers? Of course it was. In some place or not with a name or not. No names on placards or plce cards. There would be no wedding or funeral. Just some dirt sifting through fingers. One last look at the moon. My point being that the man who took the bullet and the one who sent the bullet are one and the...
It was down Moreland to McLendon some night and then a straight shot. Or before that there was always DeKalb Avenue involved. Or just down College from the place where you lived with your sister to that turn by the place where you sell hands and then working your way over in the truck with the love of Elvis to my place, or your place, or what would become ours. Or perhaps it is North on I-85 to SC exit #69. The business route, which used to be not the business route when I took it to see a woman that I only loved an iota compared to you. And then there’s a turn on Pine or some sort of street? And then on a Saint street? And then by the Quickie working the way back into the woods. Sylvan Court. Or it was further up I-85, for me always, for you after Christmas for a couple of years. Exit at East Club and then down, forking at Carpenter, and left on Cheek, then by the Church on another, and to the Dude Ranch. Did you think there would be cowboys everywhere? Or we could’ve taken Ponce to that little spur that takes you to Clifton and then a left, as soon as you see the traffic light ahead, onto the street with the good sledding hill – if it ever snowed – and right and up the hill. Or it could be down Briarcliff/Moreland and into the park on North and around the bend where you laugh because I always indicate when there’s only one way. Then there’s...
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