Monday, May 30, 2016
"I met a man today who fought with the Americans in Italy in WW2.
He'd traveled with his dad to Europe several years before the war. When in Germany, he'd asked his dad, "Why are there so many soldiers? Why are there so many airplanes? What's going on here?"
His dad told him that there would soon be a terrible war.
When this boy was 16, he enlisted and wound up in Italy with the American Army. He said that he decided to kill as many Germans as he could. This is what he told everybody.
He said when he caught his first German POW, both he and the German boy burst into tears.
Now, when his grandkids ask him how many Germans he killed in the war, he says, "None, I hope."
From "Regaining Your Soul" at QUIDNUNC
Posted by Bulletholes at 10:00 AM
Friday, May 27, 2016
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, ‘Is it good, friend?’
It is bitter — bitter,’ he answered,
But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
Posted by bulletholes at 6:49 AM
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Posted by bulletholes at 7:07 AM
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Mike was my first friend in the sixth grade when I moved down here from Detroit.
I remember standing with him outside Shady Oaks Elementary, talking to this girl named Marsha. I don’t know what Mike said to her, but she took of running.
Well, my natural instinct was to take off and run after her, which I did.
Since she was in a miniskirt, she couldn’t run very fast, so it didn’t take long for me to catch up with her.
Once I caught up with her, my natural instincts took over again and for lack of knowing what else to do, I tackled her.
We both got up, looked at each other, and she started to running again.
Well, I guess my natural instincts weren’t as strong now that I'd tackled her once, and I could hear Mike hollerin’ at me, so I let her go.
When I got back to Mike, he was cracking up.
“Whats so funny?” I asked.
“You tackled her!” Mike says.
“Sure I did” I said.
“Well, don’t tackle girls. Especially, don’t tackle girls in dresses” Mike says, still laughing his ass off.
“Why not ?” I asked.
“Hahahaha! Do you really have to ask?” Mike says.
I thought about it a second. Then it dawned on me.
“Oh, yeah!” I said, and we went to Mike’s house to play Hot Wheels.
Posted by Bulletholes at 6:42 AM
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Bought ticket for an event at the bequest of one girl.
She chickened out.
I asked two others.
They were otherwise engaged.
I asked another (#1) who said “Have you asked my friend (#2) if she and her son would like to go?”.
Apparently, she would like a chaperone, yes?
So I contacted #2; she seemed to be open to the idea.
So quickly, I bought two more tickets, only to have #1 say “I hate to be a fuddy-duudy, but, a rain check?”
So I ask #2 if she is still in. I'm wondering did #1 just shuttle me over to #1? Like maybe I asked the wrong one to start with?
#2 says “I told #1 it’s a bad time for me”
Well, guess what sister?
It’s a bad time for me too.
Now I got 4 tickets and I’m down to calling old lovers from 15 years ago, and two girls with boyfriends and saying:
“I need a date. Pays 20 bucks.”
Posted by bulletholes at 1:21 PM
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
See, thats the thing. I didnt tell the whole story. The next year I didnt get a participation trophy. I won the tournament. Shaved 36 strokes off my 121 and shot an 85. Sure I'd gotten better but mostly... I CHEATED MY ASS OFF.
Thats whats wrong with the country.
True story. The guy I beat shot an 87. He cheated his ass off too.
That first place trophy isn't worth a shit, but the story is priceless.
Posted by bulletholes at 9:43 AM
Saturday, May 14, 2016
“I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.”
― James Joyce,
Posted by Bulletholes at 9:22 AM
Friday, May 13, 2016
“That’s weird. What ARE all these cars doing here?” I said.
Posted by bulletholes at 8:56 AM
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
"Roshi [his Zen Buddhist teacher] said something nice to me one time. He said that the older you get, the lonelier you become, and the deeper the love you need. Which means that this hero that you’re trying to maintain as the central figure in the drama of your life— this hero is not enjoying the life of a hero. You’re exerting a tremendous maintenance to keep this heroic stance available to you, and the hero is suffering defeat after defeat. And they’re not heroic defeats; they’re ignoble defeats. Finally, one day you say, ‘Let him die— I can’t invest any more in this heroic position.’ From there, you just live your life as if it’s real— as if you have to make decisions even though you have absolutely no guarantee of any of the consequences of your decisions"
Posted by bulletholes at 6:58 AM
Saturday, May 07, 2016
Friday, May 06, 2016
Among other things, he had told her he was moving out from his wife, getting an apartment the next day. But it didn't happen. My girl had never told me anything like that. He had strung her along with those kind of stories for quite some time. And she was distraught over it.
Ellie said “Do you like it? I got it Target”.
For almost five years, a very well kept secret.
I’m not one to turn down pussy, at least I never had been before. But I explained to her that my heart belonged to another, and I wasn’t at liberty to say who, because my situation was so similar to hers.
And here is the thing.
But your own advice is the hardest to take.
Addendum: I know why I cant take my own advice.
I still believe, baby. I'm still a believer.
Addendum #2; It took another two months from the posting, but I took my own advice.
Posted by bulletholes at 8:03 AM
Thursday, May 05, 2016
You think your heart’s your own,
to lay down like a red chip,
to share or not share.
But it isn’t your own,
it will never be your own.
It belongs to whoever can win it,
to whoever can keep it.
It belongs to whoever has the tools
to break inside your chest and
take the red right out of you.
Posted by bulletholes at 8:22 AM
Wednesday, May 04, 2016
"But in the end you become a hostage to who you are, to what you want, what fascinates you, what breaks you down, what holds you under; the sense you feel compelled to build, the truth you try so helplessly to construct, the who you ultimately and helplessly are."
- Brad Zellar
Posted by bulletholes at 1:45 PM
Tuesday, May 03, 2016
I cooked some ribs on my smoker this weekend. Two women walking dogs came by. Both with big breasts, nipples poking through the terry cloth tops. Like they were smuggling bubble gum. They talked with me for a long time, and I gave them some ribs, but I'm pretty sure I couldn't stop looking at those tits.
Do you think they noticed I was gawking?
They are probably used to it.
What do you think was the cause of this effect?
Or the BBQ?
I don't know.
Shoot, they're probably lesbians anyway.
So whats the difference?
Posted by bulletholes at 8:38 AM