Game day

nasty rain and fog for the football game

A heavy downpour is forcast for the game. Those guys seem to thrive in the downpours. Go Tom!

Always in Need of edit

places worth going to:

Independence Mall

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Philadelphia, PA

In Wicked Need of an Edit

Political and Media Inanity

How to Avoid New Jersey

How to avoid New Jersey: go to Washington DC via Mattamoras and Interstate 84!

If people go to jail for creating a poltically motivated traffic jam than so be it! Politics isn't about punishing the citizenry over BS from City Hall or the State House. Chris Christie: what other traffic jams in New Jersey were politically motivated?

sometimes they do the slowdown at the toll booths. It's better to not ride the Turnpike on those days. But it isn't a directive from the State House. Duval Patrick doesn't have his guys call up and tell the union tolltaker guys to slow it down.

I alway try to be respectful to the toll takers. They have a tough job: first line of defense for people driving on the highway inebriated. Some people treat them with disrespect. That just makes them know you for that. They remember yo when you go through everyday. Why not spread some goodwill? Is it there fault that the job that they had to take was tolltaker? I, mean, it's a bad job when the weather is bad.

Politically motivated traffic jams! I've written a lot about curruption and government. This is really new ground. Block the highway that everyone uses, people of all parties, all points of view, all ethnicities: people with a purpose and somewhere to go. People who want to visit your beautiful state and spend their money! It's just rediculous. Rediculous.

Well, so, that was the news this week. Politically motivated traffic jams in New Jersey. I knew that New Jersey traffic was screwed up but I never imagined it as anything more than contractor graft: the never ending construction zones that seem to happen everywhere. I can undrstand that because the money is going to working people who have a hard job: construction wokers. Ya, there are kickbacks. We are adults, aren't we? We know that this goes on. But to stop traffic because some politician doesn't support another one? And to send emails about it? Dumb. And these people want to run our country!

Republicans are loathed by so many. And once again when some of them are in power they prove themselves to be creeps.

 Truck-u-later is a
  guest columnist.

   where there used to be a song
  she still sung it in her heart
  even though the score
     called for silence
   a moment
  to remember
  she sung him in her heart
     throughout the pause
 where there used to be 
                   a song
                    it
            might seem to
   but it never really fades
                

4 Jan, 2014.

What is there to understand about
 time
 without that forward face
 of heart 
  like the buelles of love I
        grew for you?
 you broke me off

 I lay there on the floor 
                of the forest
 the sound of flies and bees 
                and pricker-bushes 
                  sticking you 
      screaming in
           pain
  
   But time?
  It just hangs in the air. 
It didn't even look at 
            the sky
       or the reflection
         of clouds
     on the screen  
      of the computer
    (refuge now safe
  at his lakeside
     hideout)

 Instead you
 wrote it's sad
 poems
 in the silence 
        of
     eternity.

 you try to hand your poems
                 to the wind
 They fly away
   some end up in the lake.
  some at the mountainside 
             parking lot
   
   Some get blown up all the way
             to the highest
               watchtower.

  were you
 thinking of me
 sitting here, cold
 and fearful you don't
      anymore . . . 
  and knowing
   and knowing.

When the march 
   is over
 the drummers
 return home
  exhausted
  

more from a newer fiction

what say ye oh milkman-popup sprite?

"Merry Christmas!"

I'm not putting any words in Mr. Lincolns mouth.

I've suggested having beams coming from Lincolns eyes to highlight words, and perhaps to create a dissolve. But I'm sure that I saw that first in the original Godzilla only it was Godzilla and not Mr. Lincoln who had beams coming out of his eyes. If I provided that effect here I just be ripping off a classic. Well, I guess that is what all artists do so what am I waiting for? Oh, ya, I'm more of an engineer than an artist. Why can't someone be both? Why can't some people stop talking about themselves?

spontanious story inspired by spontanious behavior of someone else.

Midnight Texts are always interesting and can result in the truth being a blatent lie. Whatever that means. Maybe next time I'll pretend that I didn't have my phone, I won't answer the text.

I figured that someone who was texting at midnight was going to be friendly and that would be a good thing: wishing someone well at the end of the day. I'm here doing productive things at midnight, so that isn't such a horrible time to text me. In any case it's all good. I'd drive to edge of the fringe, that part were my world ends and that other one begins. but I can't go wondering those rambling alleyways and side street bar haunts, back door drinking coffee, smoking butts, kitchen in the weed, rats in the bread, midnight street and the frozen ice. snorting unknown pills. I don't do those things.

If I could have known to go and look for him that day in Brookline. He'd have been wonderously ambling towards the Blancette's Liquors. he'd be making happy eyes towards the women who push their strollers. He'd have had a fish sandwicdth at the orange sign sandwich shop. He'd have read all of the titles on all of the used books in the basement of the bookstore. Maybe he'd have phoned someone about the farmers market? Maybe he'd have had a piece of bachlava (or two). I'd have gone lickity split to get and bring him something? somewhere? somehow? Sanity? Xandu? Life long quest for God and Love? You could find it on Harvard Avenue, Brookline, or Beacon Street, College Corner. It might be there during petal fall in The Spring, while the smell of the ethnic food drifts along the sidewalks. The people might look to him with suspicion at first but realize quickly that the only one he mgiht be harming is himself. Can't he walk past a pastry shop window without wanting to sample just about all of them? Third trip to the counter and they are asking who is he here visiting?

Later he makes his train. He gets out some place only part way. Part way to where? Glittering lights! A woman in a doorway who he sees seeing him. He knows what she wants! (this is how it might work I don't know he only gives me glimpses of his lothario, the emboldened knight on the prowl nature that he sometimes displays)

He 'hey babys' her, which only works in dreams or when he is manic. He glows then. He must emit some pheremone. She wants him. He sticks his tonque down her troat. She doesn't turn away. (She was a he, a pro).

Next she is wanting money. He rips her out a twenty. Then he slips inside the doors of the glass factory.

   

 She sings her song of him
  with her every breath
 as he sings, too of her.
 all of this in silence.
        




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