Tuesday, March 30, 2010
the napkin story
we had been camping in the bush for a couple days previous to getting to a
place in the middle of northern botswana called 'maun'. we needed to replenish our supplies to go on another extended week of camping in another park, and were spending the day in what is easily the busiest town for 400 miles.
my uncle and i went to grab something to eat before leaving as we saw
a pizza parlour and we were super tired of eating cold beans and a tomatoes on toast. so we rock in there, and the gentleman behind the counter obviously hadn't
encountered a lot of teen aged white girls, so he was kinda fascinated by
me.
as i purchased my piece of pizza, he was chatting me up , asking me questions and was not subtle about
making eyes. it was all very flattering, but i realized as i walked
away that i had nothing to wipe my face with. so i go back to the
counter.
"can i have a napkin please?"
his face drops and even though he's blacker than NIGHT, he blushes and
doesn't know what to do - just stands there staring at me. my uncle
then leans over and tells me:
" you just asked for a sanitary pad, and you have tomato sauce on yer face."
place in the middle of northern botswana called 'maun'. we needed to replenish our supplies to go on another extended week of camping in another park, and were spending the day in what is easily the busiest town for 400 miles.
my uncle and i went to grab something to eat before leaving as we saw
a pizza parlour and we were super tired of eating cold beans and a tomatoes on toast. so we rock in there, and the gentleman behind the counter obviously hadn't
encountered a lot of teen aged white girls, so he was kinda fascinated by
me.
as i purchased my piece of pizza, he was chatting me up , asking me questions and was not subtle about
making eyes. it was all very flattering, but i realized as i walked
away that i had nothing to wipe my face with. so i go back to the
counter.
"can i have a napkin please?"
his face drops and even though he's blacker than NIGHT, he blushes and
doesn't know what to do - just stands there staring at me. my uncle
then leans over and tells me:
" you just asked for a sanitary pad, and you have tomato sauce on yer face."
Monday, March 29, 2010
RE: The campening II
Dear ishmael,
In answer to your questions of March 23rd:
1. I left yesterday morning at about 5:30am. This was out of a desire for easy money.
2. The tooth is trying to destroy my other teeth by a method called "horizontal impaction". It must be stopped and I shall be having surgery on the 30th or thereabouts.
figure 1 - The tooth that hates other teeth
3. The sky is blue because molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter red light. And, when you look towards the sun at sunset, you see red and orange colours because the blue light has been scattered out and away from the line of sight.
-__
***************************
mister _________, you are one crazy mofo. when did you leave? how's yer tooth? why is the sky blue?
In answer to your questions of March 23rd:
1. I left yesterday morning at about 5:30am. This was out of a desire for easy money.
2. The tooth is trying to destroy my other teeth by a method called "horizontal impaction". It must be stopped and I shall be having surgery on the 30th or thereabouts.
figure 1 - The tooth that hates other teeth
3. The sky is blue because molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter red light. And, when you look towards the sun at sunset, you see red and orange colours because the blue light has been scattered out and away from the line of sight.
-__
***************************
mister _________, you are one crazy mofo. when did you leave? how's yer tooth? why is the sky blue?
Saturday, March 27, 2010
sex sister
there were 4 of them between the ages of 30 and 45 and
all they talked about was men and sex, i mean,
it was all-consuming, to them there wasn't anything
else
i was living with the youngest sister and she had me
performing sexual acts i had never even heard of
before.
"now, let's try this."
"all right."
at first it was lively, adventurous, even
humorous
but
as the months and nights added up i
began to resent it like - oh, here we go with SEX
again!
(she also liked to do it in strange places like public
parks or in automobiles while i was driving.)
i began to feel that all the sisters were crazy; in fact,
one of them had been in a madhouse ( the one i was with).
the sisters had boisterous, screeching laughs, really
rather ugly laughs
and i began drinking more so i could tolerate
them and their laughter.
the drinking made the sister i was with quite angry
because sometimes i would just go to sleep
instead of performing.
i finally told my lady that i couldn't take it anymore
and that it was over and she seemed to accept that at first
but finally it was not to be so:
she began to phone me continually, mostly at night,
around 3 or 4 a.m.: " YOU'VE GOT SOMEBODY THERE,
HAVEN'T YOU?"
she followed me everywhere. once i took some clothes in
to the cleaners and when i came out my car was nearly
destroyed - ripped upholstery, shattered windows, torn
dashboard, all within 3 or 4 minutes.
it looked as if a tiger had been in the car.
another time i was making love to another lady when my
bedroom window was
smashed open and there was the sister's face, twisted, spitting
at me, " YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" then she was
gone.
the lady in bed was terrified, trembling. " what was
that?"
"nothing, baby, nothing."
the sex sister also tried to murder me a couple of times in a couple
of different ways and just missed both
times.
let me tell you the police weren't much
help, they picked her up but she somehow convinced
them that i was at fault.
"there's nothing wrong with that lady," they told me,
both times.
two squads of officers.
maybe she had sex with the whole gang of
them?
fortunately, as the months went on she gradually abandoned her
terrorist attacks until finally it was just a weepy
phone call or two and then a letter or two then,
silence.
she probably found somebody who could perform all the tricks that
she had taught me and could probably perform them
better. i hope
so.
and i just hope he likes sex
62 times a
month.
~c.bukowski
all they talked about was men and sex, i mean,
it was all-consuming, to them there wasn't anything
else
i was living with the youngest sister and she had me
performing sexual acts i had never even heard of
before.
"now, let's try this."
"all right."
at first it was lively, adventurous, even
humorous
but
as the months and nights added up i
began to resent it like - oh, here we go with SEX
again!
(she also liked to do it in strange places like public
parks or in automobiles while i was driving.)
i began to feel that all the sisters were crazy; in fact,
one of them had been in a madhouse ( the one i was with).
the sisters had boisterous, screeching laughs, really
rather ugly laughs
and i began drinking more so i could tolerate
them and their laughter.
the drinking made the sister i was with quite angry
because sometimes i would just go to sleep
instead of performing.
i finally told my lady that i couldn't take it anymore
and that it was over and she seemed to accept that at first
but finally it was not to be so:
she began to phone me continually, mostly at night,
around 3 or 4 a.m.: " YOU'VE GOT SOMEBODY THERE,
HAVEN'T YOU?"
she followed me everywhere. once i took some clothes in
to the cleaners and when i came out my car was nearly
destroyed - ripped upholstery, shattered windows, torn
dashboard, all within 3 or 4 minutes.
it looked as if a tiger had been in the car.
another time i was making love to another lady when my
bedroom window was
smashed open and there was the sister's face, twisted, spitting
at me, " YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" then she was
gone.
the lady in bed was terrified, trembling. " what was
that?"
"nothing, baby, nothing."
the sex sister also tried to murder me a couple of times in a couple
of different ways and just missed both
times.
let me tell you the police weren't much
help, they picked her up but she somehow convinced
them that i was at fault.
"there's nothing wrong with that lady," they told me,
both times.
two squads of officers.
maybe she had sex with the whole gang of
them?
fortunately, as the months went on she gradually abandoned her
terrorist attacks until finally it was just a weepy
phone call or two and then a letter or two then,
silence.
she probably found somebody who could perform all the tricks that
she had taught me and could probably perform them
better. i hope
so.
and i just hope he likes sex
62 times a
month.
~c.bukowski
Friday, March 26, 2010
indian bluffs
after a interesting run in at a costume party on saturday, it has been acsertained that my indian name ( as epithetical as that actually is...the language of hate! and gambling!) is:
laughs and walks away.
we also ascertained my porn name, but i cant remember it, as i was laughing too hard at this guy dressed as speed racer for defending himself by using the excuse for not doing something because he was " watching season one of smallville."
laughs and walks away.
we also ascertained my porn name, but i cant remember it, as i was laughing too hard at this guy dressed as speed racer for defending himself by using the excuse for not doing something because he was " watching season one of smallville."
"The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll"
"The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll"
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a maid in the kitchen
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
And you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
And that ladder of law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way witout warnin'
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fearsv
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the time for your tears.
~b.dylan c.1963
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a maid in the kitchen
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
And you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
And that ladder of law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way witout warnin'
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fearsv
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the time for your tears.
~b.dylan c.1963
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
party trix
towards the end of the night, find someone who is holding a drink in the hand that they wear their wrist watch on.
' excuse me, could you tell me what time it is?'
hilarity ensues.
it's kind of a dick move, but a lot of the times it starts conversations. that and pointing out the fact that someone doesnt look like they are having fun. who's concerned with time at a party?
at the first birthday party ever thrown for me ( 23 i think...pretty sure....it was raucous) i was the last person to be shown the door. at 8.30 the next morning. after an epic game of pin the tail on the donkey. which i am fairly certain i lost....but i cant recall.
i stumbled home to bob dylan and parent callings. a futon rich with warmth and distance. all at once. movies of the life i never saw in theatre. november. there was porn confetti and puppy sized holes in one's heart. scotch. i could never be a proper bouncer. i'm too friendly.
'he's related to you....'
sonic astral projections detailing the fall/outings of a summer once spent true. i dont know what inspires the thoughts of cinders and swirling mysticism of the northern nevadan desert. what makes the sunshine.
lateral~ism. that seems new.
remember ghost lakes and the new.
remember.
' excuse me, could you tell me what time it is?'
hilarity ensues.
it's kind of a dick move, but a lot of the times it starts conversations. that and pointing out the fact that someone doesnt look like they are having fun. who's concerned with time at a party?
at the first birthday party ever thrown for me ( 23 i think...pretty sure....it was raucous) i was the last person to be shown the door. at 8.30 the next morning. after an epic game of pin the tail on the donkey. which i am fairly certain i lost....but i cant recall.
i stumbled home to bob dylan and parent callings. a futon rich with warmth and distance. all at once. movies of the life i never saw in theatre. november. there was porn confetti and puppy sized holes in one's heart. scotch. i could never be a proper bouncer. i'm too friendly.
'he's related to you....'
sonic astral projections detailing the fall/outings of a summer once spent true. i dont know what inspires the thoughts of cinders and swirling mysticism of the northern nevadan desert. what makes the sunshine.
lateral~ism. that seems new.
remember ghost lakes and the new.
remember.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
my friend rico.
ishmael [2:51 PM]:
he sends me a text message last night asking me if i would be opposed to referring to him as 'primetime' from now on
ishmael [2:51 PM]:
and i told him if he doesnt mind calling me 'the hotness' we're game on
ishmael [2:51 PM]:
so now all text messages are tagged with the signature '- primetime'
ishmael [2:52 PM]:
'how was the hotnesses day?' - primetime
ishmael [2:53 PM]:
'primetime slept in. prime time got some school work in, prime time helped his uncle and they watched the game. primetime's team won their game. prime time is now heading home. - enrique
ishmael [2:54 PM]:
'-primetime'
ishmael [2:54 PM]:
( cuz i guess he forgot he wasn't enrique anymore, then had to let me know he remembered with a text containing just his new name hyphenated from nowhere)
he sends me a text message last night asking me if i would be opposed to referring to him as 'primetime' from now on
ishmael [2:51 PM]:
and i told him if he doesnt mind calling me 'the hotness' we're game on
ishmael [2:51 PM]:
so now all text messages are tagged with the signature '- primetime'
ishmael [2:52 PM]:
'how was the hotnesses day?' - primetime
ishmael [2:53 PM]:
'primetime slept in. prime time got some school work in, prime time helped his uncle and they watched the game. primetime's team won their game. prime time is now heading home. - enrique
ishmael [2:54 PM]:
'-primetime'
ishmael [2:54 PM]:
( cuz i guess he forgot he wasn't enrique anymore, then had to let me know he remembered with a text containing just his new name hyphenated from nowhere)
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
breaking badly timed news
sundays dont make sense sometimes....they have a shine that never
lacks the lustre of being free, though it's imminently connected to
truncation....stop trying to understand and just
break down under the fevered need for fire and blood and cede to the
desires i know i cant satiate tomorrow or the next life.
do yerself the justice of knowing that dead mans curs(V)e is more than
just east of eden and making sure that the importance of rebellion is
never far from being lost and broken and trying to kill the remembrances of the ones you
love.
to and from atlanta. i can smell the georgian peach juice all
over their state, stinking from the humid heat in moustaches and
eighties glasses and camouflage tank tops with orange neon swimming
trunks.....
'how do i feel? - i feel all fucking hopped up on froot loops and
cap'n crunch and a plethora of other incorrectly spe'lt cereals.
2 for 1.
, and dont fucking
mispronounce it - it's nav-a HO!!!!!!@!!!!!!!!!!!!'
it's a two headed escutcheon.
it's a talent. being dual - lipped. one to talk out of
and one to make my point with.
!hoo-rah.
lacks the lustre of being free, though it's imminently connected to
truncation....stop trying to understand and just
break down under the fevered need for fire and blood and cede to the
desires i know i cant satiate tomorrow or the next life.
do yerself the justice of knowing that dead mans curs(V)e is more than
just east of eden and making sure that the importance of rebellion is
never far from being lost and broken and trying to kill the remembrances of the ones you
love.
to and from atlanta. i can smell the georgian peach juice all
over their state, stinking from the humid heat in moustaches and
eighties glasses and camouflage tank tops with orange neon swimming
trunks.....
'how do i feel? - i feel all fucking hopped up on froot loops and
cap'n crunch and a plethora of other incorrectly spe'lt cereals.
2 for 1.
, and dont fucking
mispronounce it - it's nav-a HO!!!!!!@!!!!!!!!!!!!'
it's a two headed escutcheon.
it's a talent. being dual - lipped. one to talk out of
and one to make my point with.
!hoo-rah.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
one of these mornings
".....summertime,
and the livin' is easy
fish are jumpin'
and the cotton is high...."
5ive for the honey
one for the honey and
several more to get the courage up.
not asking and not kissing
is the most telling sign
of the season.
notes so low and structured. hounds teeth teal mock blue reverse sky word proclivities.
slow down, try to stay awake.
thriving on the chaos for the hearts and stakes.
shoes matching gaze matching beat matching fathoms
and more archaic euphemisms for
depth.and
the death. of my character.
and never the twain shall meet.
several more to get the courage up.
not asking and not kissing
is the most telling sign
of the season.
notes so low and structured. hounds teeth teal mock blue reverse sky word proclivities.
slow down, try to stay awake.
thriving on the chaos for the hearts and stakes.
shoes matching gaze matching beat matching fathoms
and more archaic euphemisms for
depth.and
the death. of my character.
and never the twain shall meet.
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