Saturday, December 31, 2011



Back in 1999 I was lucky enough to live in a very bad part of town.
As I would pull down the gravel alley at 5:30 in the morning on my way to work, there were two girls on the corner that always asked me if I wanted a "date". Being a bit of a rube, it took me a while to figure out what was going on there.
But before long, as they would wave and smile at me, I would holler out the window:
"Hellllloooo Ladies!", "Yabba-Dabba-Doo!" or "Honey, I'm home!"

And these girls would all laugh and wave because, well, I am a funny guy, even to a whore.

Some times I would go to the corner and talk with them late at night, staying out of sight so as to not drive off any Johns. There were probably 3 or 4 girls that worked that area at any given time.
One night a guy I knew from High School pulled up.
Boy-howdy, was he surprised to see me!
But thats not what this story is about.

This story is about the very pretty little whore that would work the streets on occasion. She had beautiful, soft looking, well groomed hair that she would toss about in a very sexy way. She seemed different from the other girls…very different. She was pretty and clean and wasn't all schitzed out, mumbling to herself, or pacing back and forth incessantly.
I figured she was a "Part-Timer"; a bored housewife that came out on occasion for a little taste of life on the edge.

One morning in my driveway I was checking the oil in my truck. This pretty little whore was passing by and so I says to her:
“Good morning!” all bright and cheery, because really, I had been dying to say something to this pretty little whore.
She stopped and tossed her sexy hair back and shielded her eyes from the sun and says to me:
‘Whatcha’ doin'?”
I looked at her as I slid the rag slowly down my dipstick.
“Jus’ checkin’ my oil “ I says, and added with a grin “Would you like me to check YOUR oil?”
She didn’t miss a beat and fired right back:
“Would YOU like to check my oil?”

She was smiling pretty as she tossed that sexy hair around again.
I must have turned about 5 shades of red, because, yes, I would have liked to check her oil, but I really did not have the guts to go about it.
She knew it and decided to let me off the hook.
“You don’t “date” do you?” she says
It was less a question, and more of a statement spoken as a matter of fact.
“No ma’am, I don’t…I’m probably better off all by myself”.
“OK” she says, flips her hair back and starts away.
It may sound silly, but I had some notion that maybe I had hurt her feelings.
"You sure are pretty though.” I says
She stopped and turned around and just laughed and flashed a big pretty smile at me, and said
"And you are awful sweet, and are probably better off all by yourself” and she  tossed all that sexy hair as she turned away while waving good-bye. She had let me off the hook again. And I watched as she shook her pretty little ass down the street, thinking I had missed my chance.

A few nights later on New Years Eve, a happy married couple I know saw her and they pulled over to the right in their Convertible Rag-topped Corvette. It was nice out, and they had the top down. They wanted to know how much she would charge to take on the both of them!
Just a little curious, they were... just wanted to see what it might cost for a little taste of life on the edge.

Before you could say “Tit-Bit and Gimme a Dollar” they were surrounded by the Vice Squad.
They were arrested and spent New Years Eve in Jail.
Yep. You see…
That pretty young whore was a Cop.



Friday, December 30, 2011


Thats the number of posts I've done this year. It ties my most procuctive year so far, back in 2009.
So does this post really count as a post?
Hell yes, especially if I add on this little nugget I sent to a fellow addict whom I am sponsoring.

""If you know the point of balance, You can settle the details. If you can settle the details, You can stop running around. Your mind will become calm. If your mind becomes calm, You can think in front of a tiger. If you can think in front of a tiger, You will surely succeed." - Mencius

Part of my recovery is going to meetings. Part is talking to other addicts, working the steps, and my service work in Group Conscious. Part is having found a power greater than myself that seems to strengthen my resolve to stay clean and practice principles. But the biggest part may be in just finding things out here in the world that help me stay clean, and finding a way to relate everything in my life to the balance point that is my program.

 Its my first time being a sponsor after 3 years in the Narcotics Anonymous program.

Thursday, December 29, 2011


I had always thought that the biggest hairiest baddest lookin’ dude on the stage had to be the bass player. Whenever I looked at album covers, I could always spot the bass player. Like Geezer Butler for Sabbath or Felix Papparlardi for Mountain, I thought I could pick them out based on their hair, their sheer size and the mean scowl on their face.

But then I went to Moody Auditorium on the SMU Campus September 15, 1974. That was the night Gary Thain, the bass player for Uriah Heep, got electrocuted.
It was in the middle of either July Morning or Sweet Lorraine. Of course, we were there to hear "Stealin'", but we had to settle for listening to it on 8-Track going home.
Uriah Heep hadn't been onstage very long, just a few songs.
We didn't see any sparks or nuthin, just all of a sudden the stage lights flickered and the music stopped. Then crowd murmurs and the house lights came on and the show was over.
The Heep were supposed to come back someday, but I don't think they ever did....not that decade, and sadly, not with Gary Thain.

But the opener, Suzie Quatro, she stole the show.
We had gone to see Uriah Heep, but ran head-on into Suzie Quatro.
Suzie played bass. She was the biggest meanest hairiest person in the building that night.
Between songs, she would raise her right hand and give us the bird, and holler out "Fuck you’se Dallas!”. I’ve never seen that kind of animosity between a crowd and an audience, except maybe the night Leslie West crushed the first two rows at Texas Hall.

Susie says:
"Eat me raw through a Flav-R-Straw"

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

"...a lady just walked by wiggling it...and we are not dead yet."

Charles Bukowski, letter for employment

(click on image for better resolution)


The post I titled last week "LAST MINUTE GIFT IDEAS" tripled the traffic that day. I guess it was the title that did it, or maybe the picture of the "friendly hooker". Then earlier this year I did a post title "Smurf Porn" that really brought them in. It brought them in so heavy I had to delete the post. So I have no idea what might happen with this title. I don't usually trust singers who talk their way through songs, but Wilcox is a great songwriter, and I'm sure he has had fun with this one. I started to post the lyrics to this a long time ago and never got around to it. Enjoy.

 And for all of you maybe interested in what Smurf Porn looks like, feast your eyes you bunch of freaks!

image by our buddy Martjin!

Tuesday, December 27, 2011


At the Ex-Mrs. Bulletholes.
With my sister there. My sister is just so weird.
She has a Chihuahua dog, with the fancy ears. They call them "Papillions" or something. The dog is as weird as my sister. She treats the dog like an incontinent human invalid. She has those hospital bed pads for the dog to go poop on.  When the dog looked like it might poop, she wanted to put one of the pads on the floor in the kitchen instead of letting my daughter, you know, take the dog outside. But the Ex-Mrs Bulletholes said "no dice" to that. She explained the dog would not be pooping in her kitchen, right next to the buffet table, or anywhere else in the house for that matter.. It took a while for that to sink in with my sister, in fact it blew her mind a little, but there is nothing as unwavering as X Mrs Bulletholes when she has made up her mind.

Of course, weirdness is not out of my domain either. There was a young lady there, of Oriental descent. I guessed her age as being between 8 and 17. Those Orientals are timeless you know. Anyway, I was really leaning towards her being about 14 so I went ahead and just asked:
"How old are you, sweetie?"
It was one of those questions that you don't know its rude until you see the look on the other persons face, and realise that they are aware that they look like a child, but are in fact a full grown woman. I never would have imagined her to be in her late 20's and attending graduate school.. Next time I run into a situation like this, I will save myself the embarrassment and just ask if she is in High School yet.

Then everyone was reminded of the axe I gave my son for Christmas...back when he was 6 years old.
I did better this year I think. I stuck to shirts and jewelry and stuff.
I'm really glad its over.

Friday, December 23, 2011













The beginning of being fine is noticing how things really are.

1. Life is uncertain, surprises are likely.
2. If you are alive, that’s good; lower the bar.
3. In a dark place, you still have what really counts.
4. If you are in a predicament, there will be a gate.
5. What you need might be given to you.
6. The true life is in between winning and losing.
7. If you have nothing - give it away.

- John Tarrant

Thursday, December 22, 2011


FOUND AT 'NITA'S TEMPORARY BLOG...check out her craft stuff as well. She's a pro.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
and we sleep together like
with our
secret pact

charles bukowski...
who else could it be?

Wednesday, December 21, 2011


I went to see Lyle Lovett at the Bass Hall in Fort Worth last night. Lovett was great; such a wonderful voice, great delivery of well composed music and lyric. His band was well rehearsed and quite polished. Almost too polished. There was nothing raw about the show, and I do like it a little raw.

Anyway, I want to write a little bit about the Bass Hall, Fort Worth's multi Million dollar centerpiece for the Performing Arts. I have to tell you, the seats we sat in may as well ave come out of an old Braniff jet. They were small and cramped and amounted to little torture machines.
And I won't win any freinds here in Cowtown by saying that the fancy-ass facade of the Bass Hall is overdone and gawdy. If those angels blowing the Lord's trump were carved from marble I'm sure it would take my breath away; but its not.
Its Fabcrete.
But hey! what do I know?
What do you think?


"There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own. However, nothing dispirits, and nothing seems worth while disputing. He bolts down all events, all creeds, and beliefs, and persuasions, all hard things visible and invisible, never mind how knobby; as an ostrich of potent digestion gobbles down bullets and gun flints. And as for small difficulties and worryings, prospects of sudden disaster, peril of life and limb; all these, and death itself, seem to him only sly, good-natured hits, and jolly punches in the side bestowed by the unseen and unaccountable old joker. That odd sort of wayward mood I am speaking of, comes over a man only in some time of extreme tribulation; it comes in the very midst of his earnestness, so that what just before might have seemed to him a thing most momentous, now seems but a part of the general joke."
Herman Melville, Moby Dick

Christmas must surely be part of the general joke.
It is for me.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011


I flunked my Testosterone test again!
I have been taking Testosterone for 6 months now, and I'm still low.
The doctor doubled my dosage.
And I found out how much Testosterone costs before insurance.
Two-Hundred and Fifty dollars!
Thats ridiculous. They make that stuff from frogs or something. You can't tell me it takes 250 worth of frogs to make that stuff for me.
I'm just one guy!
I wonder if I can make my own?


My friend SL at Assiorted is in town this week and she is taking me to see Lyle Lovett at the Bass Hall!
He's a little on the homely side, but a damn fine musician and man! What a voice! He was married to Julia Roberts for a while. He must have had something. Or at least had a little "sumpthin'-sumpthin'".
Here is one of my favorite songs by Lyle. Check out the fretless bass.

She said something about going home
She said something about needing to spend some time alone
And she wondered out loud what it was she had to find
But she's already made up her mind

All my friends told me she was too young
Well I knew that myself and I tried to run
But the faster I ran the more I fell behind
Because she'd already made up her mind

Now there is nothing so deep as the ocean
And there is nothing so high as the sky
And there is nothing so unwavering as a woman
When she's already made up her mind

So now she's sitting at one end of the kitchen table
And she is staring without an expression
And she is talking to me without moving her eyes
Because she's already made up her mind

And she said something about going home
And she said something about needing to spend some time alone
And she wondered out loud what it was she had to find
But she'd already made up her mind

So my friend carry me down to the water's edge
And then sail with me out to that ocean deep
And let me go easy down over the side
And remember me to her

She's already made up her mind
She's already made up her mind
She's already made up her mind

Monday, December 19, 2011


My sponsor asks:
“So, are you still seeing that married lady?”
“Yes, but we kinda broke up a few weeks ago.”
“What do you mean "kinda"?”
“Well I told her that we needed to take the sex out of the equation for a while, that we should go back to being just friends until she figures out what to do about her husband or I stop pouting and being a grouch.  I had started being grouchy because the relationship wasn't what I wanted it to be.”
“You know she will just find someone to replace you, right?”
“I really don’t know what she is going to do."
"Well, thats what she'll do. Thats what they all do." he tells me.
"We still talk about every day. And I'm not so grouchy lately.” I say.

This isn’t good enough for my sponsor.
So he tells me that right after the first time I talked to him about my married girlfriend, that he went and got involved with a married lady. And when he told her she needed to leave her husband or lose him forever, she went and just found herself a replacement for him.

“Of course she did” I tell him.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Well, why wouldn’t she find one?” I say.
“Because she’s supposed to love me.” He says.
“Yeah, but it was you that put her to the test. What’s she supposed to do? Pine away for you?”
“There’s something wrong with you!” he says.
"Its not me issuing ultimatums and asking women to leave their husbands"

It reminds me of the first time with my gal, as we slow danced after making love, half-dressed, in my living room.
She began to sob, just a little, and so I asked her what’s wrong.
‘You’ll never be able to trust me…” she says.
I understand what she means. If she will cheat on her husband, she will cheat on me, yes? That’s the idea, right?
So I pull her close and whisper;
‘That’s OK, baby. Do you think you can trust me? My record ain’t that great, you know.”
And we both laugh.

And this reminds me of Deb, a waitress I knew at Luminaris when I was 18.  She was older, one of the Junior Love Goddesses where I worked, and divorced. I’d never really flirted with a divorcee’ before. I remember telling her that I could never date a divorcee’. That I would always wonder if she wasn’t secretly still in love with her Ex.
I remember Deb laughed, and laughed and laughed, and soon I got over that idea, after she showed me what it was all about.
I was so young.

Anyway, this is written for men and women that think they own other men and women.
And for folks that think they have Karma all figured out.

Friday, December 16, 2011


Oh gosh yes, its been such a year, and its been real fun on this blog again.
I don't get around as much as I used to, visiting my blog friends. I'm kinda self centered these days maybe, but its good to have posted as much as I have the last 8 months. If I can keep it up through the end of the month I will have equaled my best blog year, 2009, where I did 230 posts.
Thats kind of amazing since the first 3 months this year I only did a dozen or so.
Back there in 2008/2009 when I first got clean I had that great run of 320 posts  in 340 days.

It feels real good to have 1,273 days clean and sober. I don't talk about it to you guys as much anymore, but I continue to go to 3 or 4 meetings a week. I work the first 3 steps all the time. I live the program and keep the 10th step in mind always.

A friend called me a few weeks back. She wanted to go to a meeting. It was a friend that I would not have expected to be calling me for something like that. It was hard for her to do I'm sure, and last night she picked up a 30 days clean and sober chip.
I'm still humbled byn the fact that someone can come in and sit down and listen and talk and find out the message of Narcotics Anonymous...
"Any addict can stop using drugs, lose the desire to use and find a new way to live"

Thursday, December 15, 2011


"I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes"

God Says Yes To Me

by Kaylin Haught


"It's funny... the world is so different in the daylight. In the dark, your fantasies get so out of hand. But in the daylight everything falls back into place again."

Carnival of Souls

I used to try to stay up when I was a little boy to see this "B" film, but it always came on after midnite, on "Nightmare Theatre". The title, 'Carnial of Souls", really had its hooks in me.
But I always fell asleep. I was too little to stay up that late.
It comes on tonight, an hour past midnite on KERA Public Television Channel 13.
 I will try to stay up to see this movie, but I doubt I will be able to.

I'm too old to stay up that late.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011


"The truth is tiny compared to the things you will have to do."
Leonard Cohen, from "The Energy of Slaves"

My good friend SL, over at Assorted credited Bulletholes with this, but thats not entirely correct. I posted it it to my Facebook last year. Still, its one of my better efforts, and ought to be posted here just the same.
And thanks to my old lover Billie, who turned me on to  "The Energy of sSlaves" so many years ago.
She said it was written against, as Cohen said, "men and women who own men and women"...

"To the men and women
who own men and women
those of us meant to be lovers
we will not pardon you
for wasting our bodies and time"

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Catching Up with an Old Friend

Part 2

He says:
“Have you found a girlfriend yet, Bulletholes?”
“Yeah, kind of. A few months back. I’m in love. She’s sexy and pretty, and we dance and spend every minute we can together, and she thinks I’m so smart. But right now we are kind of broke up a little.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I told her we had to stop having sex for a while, that our arrangements really weren't quite working for me, and that we would just be friends for a while. Just lovers...without all the lovin'.”
“Really?” one eyebrow raised “Where is she tonight?”
“Oh, she’s home with her husband”
“Really?” Both eyebrows raised now “She’s married?”
“Well, buddy, there is some serious Karma that comes with something like that.”
“What do you mean? I’ve done the right thing here.”
We both laugh.

I don’t think Karma always works the way we might expect it to.
And ya like who ya like.

Monday, December 12, 2011


Part 1

“So how are you doing these days, Bulletholes?”
“Great! I’m completely in love with this great girl. She is cute and funny and just like perfect for me. There’s just one problem…”
“Uh-oh….she must be married”
“There are some negative spiritual consequences to this kind of relationship.”
“Yeah, I’m sure there are, but you know what? There are some negative spiritual consequences to being by myself for 15 years too.”

Ya know, you like who you like.


She had a do not disturb sign hanging off her back
She looked taller than she was in her tapered slacks
Calculated head of hair and cowboy boots
She said, I'm a country girl from down on 8th avenue

She bought a bottle of wine
Two bananas and a New York Times
The man behind the counter smiled this time
Cant blame him boys
I heard him sigh above the dirty white noise

I saw a poodle in a parking lot look just like you
He was sitting in a pink Cadillac with a view
Waiting for his mistress with a beret on his head
I wanted to laugh but it wasnt funny yet

It was a quarter to nine
He was running on Las Vegas time
Show's about to start so stand in line
Can't blame him boys
I heard him sigh above the dirty white noise

Three women in the front seat of a 60's Chevrolet
Fins and wings and rattle of tailpipe
Driving down a New York City street like it was day
But it was 2 AM and they were stuck at a red light

Somebody yelled from behind
Thought the three looked like a valentine
But the bumper sticker read Treat Her Right
Can't blame 'em boys
I heard 'em sigh above the dirty white noise

He was watching the TV like it was really gonna talk
Watching it close like it was really gonna walk
Some woman on the screen was getting killed again
It was a rerun of the rerun where they all die in the end

I don't know why
He was a big fan of the violent crime
Remote control was hidden in his eyes
Can't blame him boys
I heard him sigh above the dirty white noise

We were sitting in a cafe designed by Paul Klee
I asked myself, is this real or a toupee
Everybody was so young they still smoked cigarettes
I guess the collective unconscious hasn't woken up yet

It was a quarter to nine
We were running on Las Vegas time
Show's about to start so stand in line
Can't blame us boys
We all sigh above the dirty white noise
Patty Larkin - Do Not Disturb
I've written about Patti before. Good to see there are finally a few good vids of her stuff.

image lifted from Red Dirt girl...thanks Red

Thursday, December 08, 2011


"...reality is illusion.  But it never looks that way."
UF Mike

image by MC Escher, captured over at Crashingly Beautiful

Wednesday, December 07, 2011


I must have been spoiled. I never really lacked for anything, but something has been gnawing at me for a few months now. It is this:
There are things in my life I use every day that I have never had to purchase. Not my whole life. Not a single one, ever. It just seemed like these items just "came" with life, no purchase required.

The first of these I noticed a while back. 
I have three cabinets full of Tupperware. I have bowls, square dishes, pie holders, and individual triangle-shaped pie holders. I have a Cake Holder, and a compartmentalized condiment piece. I have Tupperware for juices, lettuce, butter and jam; I have Tupperware for steaming and straining. I must have a million dollars worth of Tupperware, the nicest most complete set in the world, but here's the thing:
I have never bought a single stick of Tupperware.

When I was in the process of moving in with Buckshot, all my towels were in storage. As I was driving to his house with my suitcase of clothes and toiletries I thought. "Bulletholes, you don't have a towel. You can't just show up at this guys house without a towel. He may not have towels for you".
So I stopped and I bought a towel. It was the first one I ever bought.
And to think I have a Kings Ransom of towels in storage! Where do all these towels come from, and who buys them? Funny thing is, as I was unpacking, Buckshot came and showed me my bathroom, and opened a cabinet and said "Here are your towels". My towels?
See, life just comes with towels!
And what towels they were! Big thirsty looking towels, the kind Doris Day might use.
I didn't bother to show him my pitiful little towel.

Then as I lay my head down last night on Buckshots set of down pillows, and I was just about to fall asleep, I woke with a start. Pillows! Here I am falling asleep on a set of $100 pillows, with at least a half dozen pillows in my storage unit, yet I have never bought a pillow!
Life just comes with pillows!

Life also seems to just come with hairbrushes, toothpicks, scissors; it comes with forks, spoons and knives; and depending on what I get for Christmas this year, it comes with underwear as well.


"And when we meet again
introduced as friends
Please don't let on
that you knew me when
I was hungry,
and it was your world"

thanks Red Dirt Girl for the image

Monday, December 05, 2011


I guess the best thing about not really having anything original to write is that it forces me to go looking for something original to read. Here is a marvelous little story I found today at a site I had not been to...
Its about grandpa and peanuts butter cups and family...its a nice read.


"At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvelously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time."
— Frederick Nietzsche

Friday, December 02, 2011


"This is how we go on: one day a time, one meal at a time, one pain at a time, one breath at a time. Dentists go on one root canal at a time; boat builders go on one hull at a time. If you write books, you go on one page at a time. We turn from all we know and all we fear. We study catalogues, watch football games, choose Sprint over AT&T. We count the birds in the sky and will not turn from the window when we hear the footsteps behind as something comes up the hall; we say yes, I agree that clouds often look like other things - fish and unicorns and men on horseback - but they are really only clouds. Even when the lightning flashes inside them we say they are only clouds and turn our attention to the next meal, the next pain, the next breath, the next page. This is how we go on."

I've kept this quote in the back of my mind for a long time, not remembering where it came from.
Found it today.
Thanks Assorted and Red Dirt Girl.


""Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand."
C.S. Lewis

If you are wondering, its a quote from a book he wrote after his wife died in 1960 called "A Grief Observed". It was so  personal and close to heart that he published it under a pseudonym. Friends  recommended the book to him to help with his grief, unaware that he'd written it.
His authorship wasn't made known until after his death in 1963.

Very interesting, yes?

As I sat in one of my NA meetings last night, it occurred to me that maybe gods will is
less about alllowing us consolation and getting a new car, and more about us finding an acceptance of the consequences of our actions and being happy to walk to work.

Thursday, December 01, 2011


My big task today has been to drive to the Chrysler dealer and get a lug nut for the company van. They had one laying around for free.
It didn't fit.
So tomorrow, my boss explained to me, tomorrow I will go to Pep Boys Auto Supply and buy a new lug nut, even though we don't really need one.
This is a grim reminder of what a chickenshit little job I have here.
I get home and I'm just almost brain dead.


Buddy Whittington, Alvin Lee and Lesley West were standing around backstage at the Hard Rock Café in Rome.

Buddy says “Hey Alvin, how 'bout you show me how to play “I’m goin’ Home”; I’ve always dug that tune”
Alvin says “Right mate, wheres your guitar?”
Buddy opens up his case and says “Ooops, looks like I brought my dirty laundry instead. How ‘bout we use yours?
Alvin says “Wish I could chappie, but me own is in the shop getting me bridges smoothed .”
So they both turn to Lesley West, the big man from Mountain, who says “Don’t look at me. I traded mine for a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake”
And that’s how Buddy Whittington missed out on getting a guitar instruction from Alvin Lee.

Buddy and I graduated together from High School. He is a world class blues guitarist. He tours Europe frequently, playing with remnants of what was known as "The Peter Green Splinter Group" This story is about half mine and half his.

Martijn, he is in the Nederlands tomorrow and the next night before he comes back home.
When: Fri Dec 02 11 08:00 PM Where: Iduna, Drachten, ROC Friese Poort, Drachten, FR, NL
Details: Buddy Whittington, Pete Stroud, Roger Cotten, Darby Todd


When: Sat Dec 03 11 08:00 PM Where: Bluesnight Festival, Hoogeveen, NL

Wednesday, November 30, 2011


I got to see Chris a couple weeks ago here in Fort Worth. I've seen him 4 times now, thats as much as anyone I guess, and the shows are always SO good. If he comes around your area, go see him. Tell him I sent you. This one is kinda Christmassy.

Momma raised me on riddles and trances,

fat-back, channel cat, lily-white lies,
all wrapped up in a jim-crack fancy.
I never met Poppa,
I never asked why

People said Poppa wasn't no-account anyway,
people said Poppa was a rollin' stone.
I turned twenty on the Wakama thruway,
headed upriver in the dark alone.

I been sleepin' with a stranger in a no-name town,
Thanksgiving dinner at the Top Hat Lounge,
Christmas Eve at the Fantasy Tan,
Lord have mercy on the Crocodile Man

I hooked up with a carnie,
a little out of Memphis,
slavin' in a side-show,
pennies in a jar,
beetle-eyed jokers, hick-town princes,
rhinestone rubies and rubber cigars.

I wrassled me a gator up in Omaha city,
done me another down in New Orleans,
tangled with the barker,
ran off with the kitty,
crawled the Mississippi and I got away clean

I been sleepin' with a stranger in a no-name town,

Thanksgiving dinner at the Top Hat Lounge,
Christmas Eve at the Fantasy Tan,
Lord have mercy on the Crocodile Man

Underneath the levee in a cattail thicket,
down in the shadows of a shady grove,
there's a thatch roof risin' from a poke-fence picket,
white smoke billows from a coal-black stove.

Inside the house is the hall of mirrors,
inside the mirror is the temple of sin,
inside the temple is the face of Momma,
and Momma, she knows where I been.
My Momma knows exactly where this bad boy been

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


Last night Buckshot came to me with a razor in his hand. He asked if I would shave the back of his head. He keeps his head shaved, but apparently he needs help shaving the back of his head. Since he asked so nice I said I would go ahead and do it.

But I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit.
It made me feel so monkey-ish.
I kept looking around for the hidden camera, and Jane Goodall.
Next time he asks I will have to pass.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011


Everyday I go home and whip something up to eat. My roomate, Buckshot, thinks its great having a chef around. I made some Pasta last week, then Sunday we had some Chicken and Dumplings.

Yesterday I threw some cut up new potatoes and butter in the microwave for 4 minutes, then hit 'em with some salt and pepper and half-assed kinda mashed 'em up, and folded in some frozen green peas and put it back in the microwave for two minutes. Served it up with some cold sliced brisket Buckshot got from a buddy at work.
Buckshot says "Man, you sure do like to cook don't you?"
I looked up and grinned.
I said "Not really Buckshot. I like TO EAT!"

Monday, November 21, 2011


Every year, a few days after Christmas when the Blues are over and I realize what a jackass I have been for not having found my Christmas Spirit until like January 3rd, and having blown yet another opportunity to have had some special kind of holiday that always eludes me, I tell myself that next year will be different. That next year I will start early and find at least one special present for someone, and I will feel good, and all jingly, and I won't have to wind up running though Wal-Mart like George Bailey in Pottersville trying to figure out how the world got all upside down, and getting punched by my kids teacher's husband (the only guy in town that seems to know anything about me) in housewares, where I could never find anything special for anyone there anyway, not if I looked all year.
But there I will likely be, a mere 36 hours before Christmas Eve,  once again looking a trip to Wal-Mart in the face, its ugly big-boxed storefront font and ubiquitous selection of House slippers and Summer Sausages in Holiday tins; Hardware's and Heirloom collections of cheap China made in Korea; the electronics are nice, priced to sell, but there is one thing I know for sure
There are no special gifts that plug in.
There shall be no comfort or joy anywhere at any Wal-Mart location.
You know, you'd think a creative guy like me could come up with one single lousy special Christmas present for someone somewhere.
But I can't.
Never could. I only bought one decent gift my whole life and that was a Cuckoo Clock for my cousin and her husband Jimmy. When they divorced they fought like cats and dogs over it.
I think he got it and no one has heard from him in thirty-five years

So I guess the best I can do right now is go for a pre-emptive strike and to wish you all a merry-merry, and thank you for the many kind comments and attentions you have paid to me this year, and hope that when you check your pockets Black Friday you find your very own Zu-Zu's petals, and have many pleasant memories, and confetti.

Thursday, November 17, 2011


"People have got to know whether or not their President is a crook. Well, I'm not a crook."
Richard Nixon, November 17, 1973

Here is Nixon trying to steal my belt buckle.
It reminds me of Kathy's Peaches.


God Bless Republicans
Party that I love
Stand beside them and guide them
Through the bottom of the polls in Twenty-Twelve
Through the Palins...
Through the Perrys...
Through the Romneys...
Now the Newt!
God bless Republicans
Who shall they choose?
God bless Republicans
Whoever shall they choose.

Wrote this all by myself.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


I got a friend going through a divorce. He says he wants to kill himself.
He just turned 38 years old.
I told him I could guarantee him one thing.
“Whats that?” he asked.
“With all due respect to the ladies, buddy, I can guarantee you there will be more women. You will be laid again. You might even fall in love. Act accordingly.”

I'm probably not much help. But the fact is they were married for a year and there are no kids.
Get over it.

Monday, November 14, 2011


"Information is cheap but meaning is expensive"
George Dyson

"You have to do things to remind yourself

 ...that it’s a really good idea to be alive.”

“I refuse to do drive-through. I am not a grazer, I am not a cow. You eat. You sit down. You put a napkin there. And it has to have the colors. If you’re having a steak then you’ll have a little carrots because it’s really yellow, and it looks good. And maybe a little broccoli. So that the plate — first, you plate it. And my aunt, because my uncle died, and she’d been very sad. And I had to call her and say, “Ag, what’d you have for” — you know, because she didn’t have any daughters, right? And so I said, “Ag, what’d you have for dinner?” She said, “Oh, I just had a bowl of cereal.” I said, “You can’t do that. You have to plate your food.” You have to take of yourself. I’ve started to have massages because it’s like, I have to make time to have a massage. It feels great, somebody just rubbing oil in your back. Where’s the downside? You have to do things to remind yourself that it’s a really good idea to be alive.”

-From Bill Moyers’ interview with Nikki Giovanni


The Parable of the Old Men and the Young

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned, both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake, and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,
And builded parapets the trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.

- Wilfred Owen

Friday, November 11, 2011


I used to end up in Human Resources a time or two a year having been accused of unsolicited sexual advances.
The restaurant business is full of it. It’s what we do.

These waitresses, they don't usually teach Sunday school on the side you know. They aren’t babysitters; they party hard, and like hard liquor and hard men, generally.
But every now and then you run into one that doesn't want to go. I don't mind that, I can take NO for an answer, but sometimes you run into one that doesn’t want to play along.

There was this hostess, she was hired specifically for her great ass (I'm sure of it) and they put her in a tight skirt and set her out there seating people at their tables. And every time she came through the kitchen, the entire operation would stop to watch her walk through. Part of what made her ass look so great were the panty lines that showed through the tight, knee-length skirt. It framed the product in such a way that it was almost vulgar if it hadn’t been so sexy.

Anyway, she came through one day and the first thing I noticed was there were no panty lines. She still looked good, mind you, but those panty lines were such a great gimmick. I don't know if maybe thongs had just come out, or some kind of special panty, or maybe she just quit wearing panties entirely.

But after about a week of this, as she came through the kitchen one day, I decided to speak to her and I said in my sexiest voice I could throw down:
"Baby, I really miss those panty lines. What happened to your panties?"

And the next thing I knew, I was in Personnel, being written up for sexual harassment.

Thursday, November 10, 2011


I'll tell you something about the restaurant business. For every woman that accused me of unwanted sexual advances, there were three that didn't. Thats all I'm sayin'.


Shells have figured prominently in my life the last week. It all started with that photo I got over at ASSORTED, then led to a feverish dream that spawned yesterdays little poem. I just want you to know, concerning that poem, that everything I say about the oysters feeling cozy comfortable and at home making them easier to shuck is true.
And Martijn says he never heard an Oyster poem before, so I offer up this little novelty- I imagine them being on the same beach Martijn walks along on dreary Rotterdam days.

Wednesday, November 09, 2011


I used to have to shuck a lot of oysters.
I used to say it was relaxing.

The trick is to keep them cold with lots of ice.
Try not to speak loudly or disturb them as you shuck.
You want them to think they are still safe at the bottom of the bay when you stick the knife in.
If you will do that for them they will open right up for you.
They been waiting all their lives for this right here.
Them staying all shut up won’t get you a dinner.
Staying all shut up won’t get you a pearl.
They want you to see.
We are all just shells.
And it’s the rain that makes us perfect.

Friday, November 04, 2011


For my friend Peteski over at "This Isn't Happines".
"Arguably the best Tumbler in the business."
That he comes up with the best captions is not open to debate.
I don't know what I would do without him here at work.


We were standin' on a mountain top

Where the cactus flowers grow
I was wishin' that the world would stop
When you said we'd better go

We took a rowboat 'cross the Rio Grande
Captain Pablo was our giude
For two dollars in a weathered hand
He rowed us to the other side

And we were dreamin' like the end was not in sight
And we dreamed all afternoon
We asked the world to wait so we could celebrate
A gringo honeymoon

We stepped out onto the golden sand
The sun was high and burning down
Rented donkeys from an old blind man
Saddled up and rode to town

Tied our donkeys to an ironwood tree
By the street where the children play
We walked in the first place we could see
Servin' cold beer in the shade

We were drinkin' like the end was not in sight
And we drank all afternoon
We asked the world to wait so we could celebrate
A gringo honeymoon

Met a cowboy who said that he
Was running from the DEA
He left a home, a wife, a family
When he made his getaway

We followed him on down a street of dust
To his one room run-down shack
He blew a smoke ring and he smiled at us
I ain't never goin' back

We were flyin' like the end was not in sight
And we soared all afternoon
We asked the world to wait so we could celebrate
A gringo honeymoon

He said there's one last place that you should go
He took us to the town's best bar
He knew a crusty caballero
Who played an old gut string guitar

And he sang like Marty Robbins could
Played like no one I've known
For a while we knew that life was good
It was ours to take back home

We were singin' like the end was not in sight
And we sang all afternoon
We asked the world to wait so we could celebrate
A gringo honeymoon

We were standin' on a mountain top
Where the cactus flowers grow
I was wishin' that the world would stop
When you said we'd better go

Thursday, November 03, 2011


One of the virtues of being very young is that you don’t let the facts get in the way of your imagination.
-Sam Levenson
from my friend at ASSORTED

I still find water and waves and anything associated with a shoreline to be completely rejuvenating. I have a rock from Toledo Bend Lake collected 42 years ago, and a pice of driftwood from Yellowstone collected by my parents way before I was born, and an old fishing reel used by my father. The sight of any one of these puts the youth right back in me.
The way that little girl is hunkered down in the picture, I can't hardly do that anymore. But I know she is looking at the ripples in the sand, and there are fascinating seashells everywhere, and its all exploding in a fantastic collage right there in her little brain and time is standing completely still.
The world has stopped spinning. It does that sometimes, you know.
A day at the beach.

Tuesday, November 01, 2011


My new roommate is a big biker guy named Buckshot. He’s not exactly big though, he just seems big. Guys with goatee’s always look bigger than they really are. Buckshot stands abou 5’4” and weighs at least 140, but I swear he seems like a 6 footer. He drives a big Harley chopper, all decked out with death insignia, and tops it all off with one of those biker helmets with spikes all over the top, with a matching leather bracelet and vest.
Buckshot has a really nice house. Its two stories, with a hot tub and swimming pool. We each have our very own Bathroom. Buckshot operates a big crane for a living. I didn't know big crane operators did so well, but having 5 years clean and sober don't hurt.

There are tile floors, and wood floors, and chandeliers and leaded glass doors. Built in stainless steel appliances, vaulted ceilings with the crown molding and little ledges everywhere for decorating. There is a gas fireplace with fake wood in it.

Buckshot has a real flair for decorating. Every room looks like a “Rooms to Go” room. I swear there is not a single personal knick-knack anywhere. There are carved Indian heads, and antique looking glass bottles; wooden bowls with carved fruit and generic artwork on the walls; he even has electric candles perched high up in his vaulted ceiling that he turns on with a little remote. He says he wants to get more of those, that they really help with his serenity. That’s important for a 5’4” biker guy with a goatee. It’s important for everyone I guess.

I come home in the evening and sometimes he has moved some things around a little, like the three telescoping tables that are too small to sit at and too big to use as kindling, and he will ask me how it looks and I say that it looks really nice. Or maybe he has moved the tray with the marbles and candle to where the Afrikaner Straw Lamp was, and changed out the Maltese Cross bookends that have 3 books between them.

But there is not so much as a rock he found when he was a kid, or a little piece of driftwood collected from his trip to Sturgis, or an old catcher’s mitt or broken top to a gumball machine laying around for guests to look at and wonder about.

On his sofa there are 3 pillows, “Decorator Pillows” I have learned is what they call them, and they are tastefully arranged on the sofa, and every time you get up from the sofa you have to re-arrange the pillows back to the way they were. The one with the Sequins goes on top, and I have learned you do not want to fall asleep with your face on the sequined pillow.

I’ve reported on this blog many times about what a slob I am and how challenging housekeeping can be for me. I think it is good for me to live for a while with a tough looking neat-nik of a biker dude for a while.

Last week I said "Goodnight Buckshot" and went upstairs to my room. I had left my cell phone on the coffee table. A few minutes later Buckshot was knocking at my door.
“You left your phone downstairs “ he said.
“That’s OK” I hollered through the door “I’ll get it in the morning.”
“I’’ve got it right here “ he says.
I open the door and he is smiling in his bathrobe and hands me my phone.
As I closed the door it occurred to me that the reason he brought me my phone was not because he thought I might need it as I slept, but simply because it does not belong on the coffee table.

Monday, October 31, 2011


"They told me to cheer up because things could get worse.
So I cheered up and sure as hell…
Things got worse”

Thursday, October 27, 2011


"TV is the little mirror in the budgy cage."
Martijn, over at UF Mike's

Wednesday, October 26, 2011


My sister LIsa and I, we had this huge fight a few weeks ago. Its left me with a guilty conscience, and a feeling that I am too focused on the problem.

I got an Email from a buddy a few days ago. It said “You could use a few of these” and there was an attachment. I opened the attachment and there was an Elevator Repair Form. I thought WTF is this, and looked at the questions on the form.

“I believe the damage was solely due to_____”
“What is the repair cost?”
“Is there any value to the salvage”
“Has a proper Preventive Maintenance program been in place for this equipment?”
“What, if anything, could have been done to avoid the damage?”

I looked at all the questions on this form (they reminded me of my Tenth Step) and I couldn’t help but think about my sister. And my friend that sent me the form, ol' Donnye, I knew he was vaguely aware of the fight with Lisa and I, and figured he was just trying to help or something. So I sent him back one of these… A Formal Apology form:

(click on image for a more readable version; it is hilarious)
So he sends me back an Email that says “HUH?” and I send him one that says “You sent me a PDF of an Elevator Repair form. If you want to know the details of me and Lisa, well, I don’t really want to talk about it.”
His reply? He said meant to send me this…I guess he’d been fishing that morning.

Anyway, we get so focused on problems and personalities sometimes.
You know what the solution is, the solution for me?
The solution is I don’t ever have to use any dope again.

Thursday, October 20, 2011


That’s the name of the next to the cheapest hotel in town and where I have been living for five days. Janice, a smiling toothless woman checked me in Sunday. Sunday night came a bad storm and I looked out my window to see a couple room-less guys in waterproof parkas and carrying backpacks, huddled under a Mesquite tree.
The next morning I got up and went down to the little dining area for the complimentary breakfast. The big plasma TV was set on the Trinity Broadcasting Network, and a preacher-man was talking about God’s Grace and how all our problems are already taken care of if we just, through faith, let that grace shine its glorious light upon our face. The two room-less fellows from under the Mesquite tree the night before sat at a table, out of the weather and sipping good hot coffee, eating bagels and Rice Krispees, oblivious of today’s message.
It was good to see they are not without a heart down at the Shepherds Inn.

When I pulled into the Shepherds Inn at 5:00pm Monday evening after work, the two room-less fellows under the mesquite tree had been replaced by two barefoot young women wearing cut-off britches and skinny little halter tops, and they smiled and waved to me as I got out of my truck. I nodded politely and ran upstairs as fast as my legs could fly.
They are not without anything down here at the Shepherds Inn.
But I think I will be smart to just stay in my room at the Shepherds Inn, and not go out for anything..
Just stay in my room.
Stay in my room.


"So the whole journey is about inverting the energy of seeking—which is always going outward, right? Even the seeking for enlightenment is an outward search: I’m seeking for something that’s not here. It’s not really that much different than seeking for money, fame, profit, wealth or acknowledgment. I’m seeking for something I don’t think I have …. so I’m pursuing it. That’s what an outward search means. You may feel like you’re looking inward to find it, but the movement is moving away from where you are to where you hope to get to be.

It inverts it to ‘Who’s doing the seeking?’
You can’t strive for what you are."

Image, Robert Doisineau, found on a book cover by Crashinglay Beautiful

Monday, October 17, 2011


I have a saying that goes like this:
"I love other people's cooking". And I do, whenever I can get it.
After being homeless for a few days now, doing my best Estragon impersonation, , making like Kerouac, Willie Nelson, and Tom Joad out on the road-I have a new one.
Wanna hear it?
"I love other people's Shampoo"

Man its great! You open up the shower and there are brands you never heard of. I used some kind of Jhirmack friday.  Saturday was a real nice Breck, and this morning was some kind of Tropical Breeze that has left my hair soooo luxurious and smelling lke a Pina Colada. Tomorrow might bring a nice Pantene for dry and damaged, who knows?
Do they still make Herbal Essence?
Whatever it is it will beat the heck out of my Suave.

Friday, October 14, 2011


Down at NA they have been talking, ever since I been there the last 3 and a half years, talking about how life eventually shows up at your door. And for 3 and a half years I wondered what they were talking about. I knew that they were talking about losing a job, or someone dying, or your house burning to the ground, stuff just over the level of the heartbreak of psoriasis.
But I wondered what it would mean for me when Life Shows Up At My Door while I was pleasantly going Hippity-Hoppity down my Little Bunny Trail..

Now I know.
Thanks God for Narcotics Anonymous, thank God for Sponsorship.
That’s all I really have to say about it right now and it may be a while before you hear from me again.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011


So back in July the XMrs Bulletholes talks me into looking for a house to buy. I can qualify for a loan based on the fact that I have NO credit, because I have been a cash and carry kind of guy ever since she talked us into that bankruptcy and foreclosure and divorce back 15 years ago. But I take her advice, no matter how squirrelly it is because she always seems to end up being at least partly right, which is more than I can claim for myself, and because she always has my best interests at heart.

In theory I can find a nice little house for cheaper than that apartment.

I gave notice at my apartment and started the qualification process for a loan, which was supposed to take a week, but ended up taking 2 months which has forced me to move in with my sister.

My sister. I can’t begin to explain what kind of shock that is. She and I are light years apart, always have been. For about 15 years now all I watch is PBS News and Documentaries. Sure, I had a fling with Grey’s Anatomy for half a season, and in the early days of Desperate Housewives I had a real fancy for Brie; I may even have acted out on it a time or two.

But none of this could prepare me for sitting with my sister watching Millionaire Matchmaker, Jersey Shore and Breaking Bad. I stayed out last night, just to try to clear my head from all the suck TV I have been exposed to, but when I came home she gaily announced that she had recorded Dancing With The Stars for me, and we could watch it together. It was Show Tunes night, and the first one seemed to be the theme from The Dirty Dozen.
Or maybe The Great Escape.
I don’t know.
I don’t care.
I’m just worried about what might be on tonight.
God help me.

One: down to the road block, we've just begun,
Two: the guards are through,
Three: the Major's men are on a spree,
Four: Major and Wladislaw go through the door,
Five: Pinkley stays out in the drive,
Six: the Major gives the rope a fix,
Seven: Wladislaw throws the hook to heaven,
Eight: Jiminez has got a date,
Nine: the other guys go up the line,
Ten: Sawyer and Gilpin are in the pen,
Eleven: Posey guards points five and seven,
Twelve: Wladislaw and the Major go down to delve,
Thirteen: Franko goes up without being seen,
Fourteen: Zero-hour - Jiminez cuts the cable,
Franko cuts the phone,
Fifteen: Franko goes in where the others have been,
Sixteen: we all come out like it's Halloween.

Major: And kill every officer in sight.
Franco: Ours or theirs?
Major: Well, start out with theirs.
Bulletholes: I'ma smash the TV.

Monday, October 10, 2011


I dreamed I was looking at houses to buy. I found myself alone. From the closet in the master bedroom came a low throaty growling sound. I stopped dead in my tracks. I listened intently, and there it came again, a low rumbling “grrrr”.

I began to back slowly away, just like in the movies and again “ggrrrr”.
What strange beast could this be?
I turned and began walking towards the front door, and again but Louder now “GGGRRR!”
I opened the door and bolted through the front yard as fast as my feet could fly, but I could feel the hot breath on the back of my neck, and now the growl was deafening
I opened my mouth to scream and could not.
And I woke up clutching my sheets and found it was only my sweet lover, her face on my shoulder, snoring away.

Friday, October 07, 2011


I remember Bat Day at Tiger Stadium in 1967. The big white stadium was located right smack dab in the middle of Corktown, the old Irish community which originated in the 1840’s as a by-product of the Great Irish Potato Famine and more recently served as the local city slums. These slums gave the crackling ancient building a decrepit, medieval feel and once in the stands, with 10,000 kids banging newly acquired Louisville Sluggers into the concrete, and chanting ‘Who needs money- we want Cash” (Cash being the First Baseman Hall of Fame slugger Norm Cash) while the dust from the rafters and upper deck wafted down on your Lemonade and Ballpark Frank, and your dad hollered for the vendor to toss over some peanuts or Al Kaline Potato Chips.
For a kid like me, I imagined all that pounding and racket would be shaking that rickety old stadium right down into big pile of rubble any minute.

So now the Texas Rangers are up against the Detroit Tigers for the American League Pennant, and while I loved those Tigers when I lived in Detroit (even though that old stadium gave me the heebie-jeebies) I got the Rangers all the way baby!

Thursday, October 06, 2011


I guess the first one that comes to mind is Santana's "Europa" but if you want to dig a little deeper, and come up with the unexpected, then I'll offer to you this by Black Sabbath

I always wanted to do myself up in black light paint and dance around to Black Sabbath.
Hold it.
I think I have.
OK...who wants to make out and listen to Planet Caravan?

Wednesday, October 05, 2011

“Most of the hate mail came from schoolchildren”

It’s the birthday of devout fanatical agnostic astronomer Neil degrasse Tyson, who spearheaded the campaign to have Pluto downgraded from a planet to a dwarf planet. While he has received a lot of hate mail for his religious views, he received more for his action against poor Pluto. And most of the hate mail came from schoolchildren.

Tuesday, October 04, 2011


Things learned watching Ken Burns series on Prohibition last night:

By 1830, the average American over 15 years old consumed nearly seven gallons of pure alcohol a year

The word scofflaw came out of Prohibition. A contest was held to find a word that best described someone who continually flouted Prohibition laws. The prize was $200 and out of 25,000 entries, “Scofflaw” became the winner and stuck in the American lexicon. Interestingly enough, the neologism it was actually submitted by two people and the prize split!

A lady named Carrie Nation decided if the state of Kansas would not enforce its own 1889 Pre-Prohibition laws banning alcohol that she would, and went from tavern to bar and back again with stones she called ‘smashers”, destroying mirrors, barstools, bottles of whiskey and kegs of beer. In one day she was arrested four times, released each time by reluctant law enforcement without bail, her fines suspended! After she led a raid in Wichita her husband joked that she should use a hatchet next time for maximum damage. Nation replied, "That is the most sensible thing you have said since I married you." and from then on gained a reputation for "Hatchetations" She described herself as "a bulldog running along at the feet of Jesus, barking at what He doesn't like,"

You can go a long ways with a smile, but you can go even further with a hatchet and a bible.

"Somewhere in this world"

Fear is the cheapest room in the house

I would like to see you living
In better conditions,
for your mother and my mother
Were friends....

I know the Innkeeper
In this part of the universe.
Get some rest tonight,
Come to my verse tomorrow.
We’ll go speak to the Friend together.

I should not make any promises right now,
But I know if you Pray
Somewhere in this world-
Something good will happen.

God wants to see
More love and playfulness in your eyes
For that is your greatest witness to Him.

Your soul and my soul
Once sat together in the Beloved’s womb
Playing footsie.

Your heart and my heart
are very, very old


(For my sister...and everyone else in particular.)

Wednesday, September 28, 2011


Richard Thompson: On Becoming a Sufi`~

“What it was really,” he says, “I had been waiting as long as I could remember for an appropriate way to thank God. Simple as that. I wanted to say thanks for life and creation for being here and I didn’t know how to do it. It sounds pretty basic but as I prayed for the first time, I felt an overwhelming sense that this was what I had needed: to put my head down on the ground and feel I had submitted to something greater than me.”
Question: To stop searching for meaning?
“To stop using my brain for thinking and to start using it for reflecting.”

Down at my NA group we talk a lot about prayer and meditation. I think about this quote a lot when we do. What a great way to use the word "reflecting".
How do you think he means it? What form(s) of the word reflect do you think he suggests?

What it means to me is that whatever gets thrown at me I always have the opportunity to live by the principles I have learned in my program, to demonstrate how a higher power has worked in my life, and that no matter what may shine on me, I am responsible for what shines from me.

Something like that.

image courtesy of crashinglybeautiful

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Your Catfish Friend

"If I were to live my life in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection and think,
"It's beautiful here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace, and ask yourself,
"I wonder if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them."

- Richard Brautigan

I love this as much as anything I've ever run across. Ireally really do. Its like I've spent my whole life in this poem.

DIRECTIONS (excerpt)

"But it is hard to speak of these things
how the voices of light enter the body
and begin to recite their stories..."

Billy Collins, from "The Art of Drowning"
Heres a more complete passage, which I won't pretend to enjoy as much as the single line above...
The best time is late afternoon

when the sun strobes through
the columns of trees as you are hiking up,
and when you find an agreeable rock
to sit on, you will be able to see
the light pouring down into the woods
and breaking into the shapes and tones
of things and you will hear nothing
but a sprig of birdsong or the leafy
falling of a cone or nut through the trees,
and if this is your day you might even
spot a hare or feel the wing-beats of geese
driving overhead toward some destination.

But it is hard to speak of these things
how the voices of light enter the body
and begin to recite their stories
how the earth holds us painfully against
its breast made of humus and brambles
how we who will soon be gone regard
the entities that continue to return
greener than ever, spring water flowing
through a meadow and the shadows of clouds
passing over the hills and the ground
where we stand in the tremble of thought
taking the vast outside into ourselves.


This is a picture from when I was in San Diego. I wanted to swim in the Pacific, and I did! Its much colder than I would have expected, the water, and I didn't go out very far because it just about took my breath away and I didn't want to be pulled out by the undertoad.
And they have little clams in the Pacific, and I ate one (it was delicious), and then I saw the sign that said "Dont eat the little clams".
Its all good.

Monday, September 26, 2011

"Pasties and a G-String"

I had a lot of trouble with this one a while back. Had to completely delete the post
 Photo credit my pal Martijn.

Friday, September 23, 2011



You know the parlor trick.
wrap your arms around your own body
and from the back it looks like
someone is embracing you
her hands grasping your shirt
her fingernails teasing your neck
from the front it is another story
you never looked so alone
your crossed elbows and screwy grin
you could be waiting for a tailor
to fit you with a straight jacket
one that would hold you really tight.

~ Billy Collins

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Ten little known facts about George Stephanopoulos:

1) George Stephanopoulos looks good in shorts.
2) In school lunchrooms in Greece, children can order the government funded “George Stephanopoulos Plate” No one really knows what’s on the plate, but it is delicious.
3) Bob Dylan wrote a song about George Stephanopoulos, only he had to change the name to “Johanna” because nothing rhymes with George Stephanopoulos.
4) When you mouth the words “George Stephanopoulos, it looks like you are saying “I've got a Gyro in my pocket”.
5) When the moon is in the Seventh House, George Stephanopoulos looks 2.5 centimeters taller.
6) George Stephanopoulos carries a pistol in his purse.
7) George Stephanopoulos has a Masters Degree in Animal Husbandry, and is responsible for the development of Wolf Blitzer.
8) Nine out of ten women find George Stephanopoulos more attractive than Sam Seaborn.
9) The names of the 7 dwarfs are Sleepy, Happy, Grumpy, Doc, Bashful, Dopey, and George Stephanopoulous.
10) George Stephanopoulos is included in spell check programs everywhere except blogger.

Thanks to the Blog of Grant Miller for the concept behind this posting. I had nothing else to do.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011


Ny friend the Red Dirt Girl has voted "Crash into Me" as the sexiest song ever. But thats because she has maybe never seen this video. It may not be the sexiest, or most romantic, but it gets me going everytime!

Monday, September 19, 2011


Earlier this year I met the Editor of a small town paper that used some of my stories in the paper. I wrote about it before, and about how we had a falling out over the titles she was giving my stories. They sucked, they really sucked bad.

Well, we never really made up, but she is one of my Facebook friends and this week she posted a poem about a guy she met in a hot tub in Colorado a few years ago. It was at a place called Trimble Springs, and he had red hair, and they made out in the hot tub and she never saw him again. It was really a pretty good poem. The title of the poem was “Trimble”, and given the mildly erotic feel to her poem, it was a nice play on words.

I want ya’ll to know that I left her a nice comment because it was a very good poem, and I took the high road by not suggesting she change her title from “Trimble” to “Red haired man and slut suck face on snowy evening in hot tub”

Friday, September 16, 2011


I dreamed about my mama last night.

She was living with me, and we got our food and milk from the neighbors, they were very kind, and we had three cars in the driveway, and we took one to go pay a bill (Mom owed money to a Christmas Card company where she had tried to sell Christmas Cards one year and it was a lot of money that she paid with cash pulled from an eyeglass case in her purse), and then on the way back home we stopped at a nursery and bought Snow Pea seeds, because if you plant them in September you will be picking them come Christmas, and then when we got home we parked in the neighbor’s driveway and we went in through their side door like we always do, and they were asleep still, but we had milk and cookies and left them a note for being so kind and to say goodbye because we were buying a new house somewhere and were going to be packing today, and we got home to pack and all I could think in my dream was it was so nice to have mama alive with me again and how I wished I had kept up with those piano lessons back in the sixth grade so that I could play for her now and that maybe we should get a piano when we got to the new place.