next year christmas wish.

I wish I had a digital camera to take a picture of what the cat did to me over the weekend. it's crazy. and I the also had a few cuts and bruise from staying home alone. I've become a danger to myself.

as of late...

As of late...
The schools are at winter break.
The second snow storm is building up in the southwest.
I want to go back to sleep.
Chicago looks like a place to go for the winter. (I miss it)
I'm starting a book called Ghost Watching.
My friends are cool and my brother too.
They can cook up a storm.
I've wonder whats the path to a lady's heart.
I can see why they put a jolly holiday at the beganning of deary weather.
Life is boring, I need crazy.
Bad habits are hard to kick.
So I might as well swing at them.
In November I've seen a smile brighter than a thousand spendid suns.
It was enough to melt the ice age.
The earth shook the last time I was near that smile.
I have a chicken heart.
I wonder where I'm headed these days.
Why didn't I ask?
I won scabble for the first time in my life and it was twice in row.
Is there such thing as luck?
I don't think I want to be found just yet.
What am I scared of?
There was something on my mind.
But I given up thinking for the benefit of sanity.
I saw a sticker once, it said "I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it."
I wonder...
Where is my love?

show me the snow... i'll show you the tubes.

So far the days have been looking up. The school has been cancelled for the second day. Most of the schools around the area have been set on two hour delay schedule. I'm happy.
In the mountains all is covered from a 7 inches to 14 inches of white stuff. ( Of couse I'm guessing the numbers. it's really deep in some places.)
My mother says it looks like Narnia. but when she saw the movie, she said that the girl walked into Crystal, New Mexico. (Yeah I live in a magical place.)
I wonder if we can get another day of heavy snow? I want another snow day. Third one a charm.

the weekend rolls

Friday: it started out ok. The day was cold in the building. Hell, there is no heating in the winter. and there is no cooling in the summer. Well. I am reading The old man and the sea and I read it during the meeting about Navajo belief and stuff like that. I don't need that kind of stuff. I 'm Navajo already and I know the culture. It's b.s. if you ask me. I pick up my niece after my mother picked me up. We went to Gallup. My mother wanted to play bingo at the casino and I wanted to watch a movie, The Day the Earth stood still. I took my niece with me. We ate at McD's and to the movies. Then rain started down. We were watching through about one third of the movie when my niece want to leave and half way through I had to take her to the restroom. We came back. Two thirds of the way she want to leave again. After the movie we had to wait for my mother to come out of the casino.

Saturday: The rain stopped during the night. The sun came out bright. I slept to nine or so. I eat what ever, chips and dip, left-over hamburger helper, and drank diet soda. I wanted to head back into town to do my laundry. I got my clothes ready and fed the dogs. One dog got hurt in the woods chasing horses. Broono, the small dog. His right back leg broke. I didn't know what to do, when the vets are closed for the weekend. So I left and left the broono home. I got a haircut. before going to the laundrymat and saw that I didn't have any laundry soap. I headup to wally world, the damnest place to shop for anything and everthing you don't need. After a minute of walking I'm at the checkout line. Then out of there. At the laundry mat I usually go to was packed to the brim. So head on out to the eastside to less popular laundrymat. I spend a few dallors and a couple hours there. On the way out of town I stop by the market for fozen pizza and what do I see. My friend walking out of the store with a couple of cases of booze. I shout out and catchup to him. Talk alittle and he said there's an art crawl going on and his late. An art crawl hmm... I tell him I'll be there after I buying my frozen pizza. I pull out of the parking lot do south over the over pass and take a left on Aztec do east and then park in the parking lot on the corn of Aztec and Second Street. I visit with my friend Sean then off to the other art galleries in town, Crashing Thunder and Foundation for Freedom. The night is cold and the wind hardly subsides. The last place I enter is playing hip hop at the end of the stairs. I get to the top and there's b-boys and gals breaking to the music. The music is a cool style. It was moving. The guys breaking were busting out their moves, warming up for the B-boy battle later on. I take in the atmosphere for a while. I look at the clock in the back of the room and see that I better get going. I tell my friend I'm cursing and laterz. I walk down and open the door for a couple of ladies and head up the street taking in the cold air. I start up the truck and let it settle for a minute and head northward. That night I stayed at the place my mother is house sitting. Cook the frozen pizza. I stay up watching movies until 3am. I haven't watch the tele for a very long time.

Sunday: this is going to take a very long time to get everything in. It was a very long day. So here is the back bone of it. We went to Gallup unintentionally. Sidetracked on the way to Grants. Never made it to Grants. Met up with my sister not knowing she was getting off work early. I drove her back to Crystal to get clothes for Nanas, my niece, her daughter. Did some errands on the way. Drove back to town. She picked up the little red car and took Nanas with her. I stayed until after midnight waiting on my mother. We got home around two o'clock am. and finally sleep.

clear

here something I took some odd years ago.



and this is when I was younger and I had a cell phone that took pictures.



and I took pictures like this from time to time.



and like this.

point to ponder.

Joanne B. Ciulla: Some chronobiologistbelieve that body temperature and metabolic rates affect an individual's perception of time. For example, children usually have lower body temperatures, so for them time moves slowly. This might explain what is behind the dreaded refrain "Are we there yet?" Older people have higher body tempertures and perceive time as moving quickly, hance for them "It seems like just yesterday."

I was enjoying a movie about the first astornauts about a couple of days ago. the movie: the right stuff. funny movie. then today picked a readers digest to read some of the funny stories and quotes and points ot ponder stuff and came opon a story about about John Glenn, the third person to fly into space or techinquely the forth if counting the russian, then the second to orbit earth. then the story continues with him goin back in to space for the second time in his 70's, 77 to be exact. i like the story of his life. It is something.

"running against the wind, I'm still running... against the wind..

It hust something I heard over the radio this morning.
the day.
my day was hecktic. I did almost nothing yet it feels like a burden. I start reading a book about jobs. that's all i do to keep myself form actually falling a sleep. because I had to pick my sister at her job.
the weekend. I t fun and stressful. first thing the down side my truck's fuel pump gave out (I was expecting that this past summer but didn't do anything about it, only a mere thought) the pump gave out on my sister on her way to work in gallup on saturday morning. she was an hour and half late to work. I drove back home. pickedup my mother and niece. and went back to gallup to check out prices for the pump. then head to the brand new casino in gallup. for a preview of the place and a dry run through. All employees got four tickets to give to thier families. I had fun playing black jack and poker.
I have always been wary about playing either of them.
I learned at a young age how to play both of them but never in the casino.
I learned how to play by there rules now. I started think about how movies come up with the idea of taking the house. those capper movies. then i kep thinking of the movie swingers. "you always double down on eleven!"
the next day i got my truck off the road side. again i spent the hold day with my mother and niece. the fun part. my niece and I played at the playground of dreams. the bad. she cried real loud about not able to get out of the car when stopping by my brother's place. she has one hell of a scream.
that was the weekend. good fun, bad fuel pump.

thought flow

it all begans with a thought... the past . I spent my time thinking how to write about my friends' and I. Ernest Hemingway, I read the short stories, in our time, it gave me the idea of short almost pointless stories. something about nothing. but interesting in the way they are written. now what is next. I hardly remember much about what happen from time to time. I have an vaeg and board momery of what when down. nothing too specfic. now how do i write it. simple like sherman alexis. it's good story line but simple and lite heartedly written dark subject. rather safe way of portraying the rez life. sometimes it not that safe and lite hearted. well not the navajo reservation or anywhere where there is a geto. i'm not saying that we're all snakes. there are good people out there. how do i get it out.

somethings I don't like about sherman alexis writing and his permoting the indian/native american and making his charactors proud of being native american. what about the non-indian indians. I'm not proud of being indian. I enjoy being an indian. I'm not proud of being on the rez. I enjoy being on the rez. even though its a dump. the people throw their trash every where and don't care about anything. I'm a human. but that's not what people see. they see my skin color and ethicity. I'm not an "apple" either (red on the outside white on the inside). i'm simply educated. Living on the rez is an art form. I'm an artist living among artists. but for some it's not living at all. for most its a depressing place to live. Because there are no night clubs and fancy places to eat and foxy ladies everywhere. I don't think they know what they want. it just said that it sucks to be here. too much movies with stuff blowing up and guns firing and alot of hollywood effects. t.v. has ruined the generation. but anyway, i'm thinking off track. sherman alexis' indains are too cheesy for the navajo people and are mocked and laugh at too much that being in any kind of charactor would be shund out of the public. because lost of connection.

what can i say. I used to be like this; bored of doing nothing and going to school all day and get home to watch TV and play video games (the more the destruction the better) but of course this was back in late 1980's thur 1990's when I grew up and still growing. (my friend sean once mentioned that its more like growing than growing up. meaning it something to do with the effect of learning things all the time. and something along the line that if you grow up your limiting your mind to what you think a grown up is.) how did I find out that thing can be different I one place. do things your self. make it happen. people may find it fun as well and join in. now i'm going way off my subject.

weekend

what a weekend. I drove to Ok city in a day and came back home in two days. It's fun but it wears you down. i'm glade i got a way for the weekend. I haven't gone any where for the whole summer. to see some place different for a change was good. I got to see the oklahoma city bombing memorial before getting lost on the are way back to the interstate. My sister is releaved to get back home and away from shereeve port. after hearing some of what she gone thur. I can see why. and spending a few hours in Oklahoma city wealther I'm glade its dry and cold here at home. I still sleepy at work. I not up to do anything. let me be. but i have to keep moving around or I will sleep.

nofearnofearnofear

students have ways of making things a little harder in school work. one I don't know too much in the field of education. and second I'm swimming in the unknown. my boss is wondering what is it that i do in this highschool. I 'm starting to wonder that my self. if anything I could be extracted from this place and his fishing for a reason (O'paranoid schizophernia me). I met some people that are influencing my thoughts about getting out of education and pursuing the field of cinemaphotographer. the influence is good. and I want to go.
"'cause we find our selves in the same old mess, singing drunken lullabies,"

Here that quote to go with moby dick:

"I think good novel would be where a bunch of men on a ship are looking for a whale. They look and look, but you know what? they never find him. And yo know why they never find him? It does say. The book leaves it up to you, the reader, to decide. Then, at the very end, there's a page you can lick and it tastes like Kool-Aide." -Jack Handey (deep thoughts)

moby dick (or that swishy tale)

call me aaron. I am reading moby dick and I'm .... rather tired of reading it. the whole beganning was very fun reading; then he, Melville, start rambling about a subject. Which can be very interesting at times but it bugs when all I want to do is get on with the story. I hvae been reading the book for the past month and its been very slow coming. I want to start another book but leaving the book open is some that doesn't feel right. Like all the other books i've started: slauther house five, A clockwork orange, the bible, dante's divine comedy: pergatory and paradisio.... and some other I can't remember very well. I start slauther house five last year. I put the book down and couldn't find it. welll I started a clockwork orange two year ago i put it down because of some of the imagery of the people being beaten and raped; then the author put himself in it to light the load of the brutality, sort of comedy relief. but a very colorful laugage. the bible, I don't remember where I left off, but i do remember finishing geneis. oh yeah Oyster i was reading, then I put it down and never finish. dante's divine comedy: pergatory got boring and I lost interest in knowing where the jorney was going. Inferno was awsome to the end. Soo, should I, or not, put the book down and n'ver pick up 'til I invest interest back into book.
There's a quote that funny. something from SNL by jack handley (deep thoughts).

the last day of sum vaca...

this year going to be diferent, with one f. i can't see what is coming. I'm just going with the flow. told my self that it's going to be one more year and I'm sticking with that... one more year being a shadow. mear nothing without students.

sun burnt beams shine me on

i flow with the breeze and tornados thrashed at the leaves....

i flow through fields and forest, wood and trees....

up in the air, blue skies came clear...

clouds roving close, too near...

home, white and small from back, below...

I meet the horizon with the breeze, i flow...

looking for the irsis of the sun...

before long none could see one...

alone and long gone the blue is shallowed by black vacuum...

sun burnt sun rays kiss the bottom of my bum...

no white home no trees....

no forest no breeze...

i'm gone with the flow,

with nothing above nor below.

last freakin day. hell yeah!

"come on get on with it... Just wasting time" it's the song of the week for me. last day for the students to hang around the school. It's the last period of the day. Then let them playout the rest of the day. soft ball, burgers and dogs. and they're forcing the student to stay on campus. why tourture the staff like that. I'm poopt.

hell freezes sometimes

what the hell am I suspose to do in the next couple of hours? and iwhat about the next couple days of work. I don't have a classroom to check out and surely will i have not a student. with out the student I'm just sitting around doing nothing but reading. is that it. do i just read for the next couple days of work. reading...
My productivity has hit an all time low. I want to write but i'm still new at sitting around and writing. i'm usually doing something when I write poems. then again I don't like sitting around writing. my friend, sean, mentioned that it's takes four hours a day of writing and four hours a day of reading to become a full-time writer. He got this info from a Stephen King interview. I guess he knows what his talking about. I can sit and do nothing for four hours. but not write up things. reading can only hold me for acouple hours a day. then i'm toast. I don't make a good conversation after read for that long. let alone think about what i'm going to write. no wonder i like poems. I get reader's fatigue and it lasts for a month. I'm surprised that I'm still keeping up with the book club I joined in the being of the year. even though I'm nearly the only one left of the club. the other have been occupied themselves with other things. Maybe the thrill is gone for them. The last book was crazy and bizare, Water for Elephants. I chose this month's book, playing for pizza. A john grisham novel. I never read any of his book before now. I like it.

the word of the day... nostalgia.

I've been thinking about the past five years of my life and i came up with the wonderful times in my life were back in '04. I finished my general ed. in college and started driving around a rock 'n roll band from place to place; late night drives, noises in the dark, not an ounce of sleep, because I was paranoid that they might have some crazy prank up their sleeves. there was nothing too fun or too crazy that they can think of. but of course most of time I wasn't there when they did pull their shenanigans on their unsuspecting victims. Sleeping was a risk around them when they were awake, so I waited them out.
I starting to feel old as of late. I'm lazier and fatter than I was. This job has worn me down to calm and edgy. not zealful and edgy. but still edgy.
I wonder if could last those nights if put back in those positions? anyway I started writing a poem about those days. well that least some of them. here is some of it:

Out for Blood

I remember playing
Music was the life
Party in the alley
fire lights up the night
the stage blaired out loud
the girls and boys
danced, pushed and shoved
they were out for blood

(those were the days)
guitars cracked, drums smashed,
fingers bled, bass slapt,
the firey crowd roared as flames grew higher
cast down bodies, dance with fire,
fist punching air, push next to you
kick the floor, shove them away
we're Out for blood

those nights ran late,
through out the night,
the smoke in the alley
puffed pass midnight,
walk the street,
pass Allen way,
Elmorro was the spot of the day
where the boys and girls
came to dance, push, and shove
they came out for blood.

I was listenin to too cheesy punk music then this stuff came to mind. the stuff some might call street punk but it don't have gumpion or what it takes to be from the street. I don't like it but it's the way it is writen. it lacks heart... and punch... message...

let it snow/rain... wait a minute.

this wild snow and rain coming out of the sky near the end of may. it is freakin freezing. I finished work for today very early and i don't know what to do my self. I can do some things like buy brakes for my trunk, sally. thats the only thing pressing. and laundry.
wow it's only four days for those hell-spawn-offspring teenage-werewolves slick around for school. then FREEDOM! what shall I do with my first weekend of summer vacation.

trying out thoughts

Let me start off basic greaser movie: guy from the wrong side of the tracks falls for a girl in the rich side of town. Now lets abapt to reservation lands. Every where the wrong side of the tracks. Anybody who's anybody is a bad mofo. So that won't work. There is a culture clash here, the christians, traditionalist and non-traditionalist (the ones who don't care much about perserving the old ways and care less about christain values. Heathens.). That should be about where greasers come in... now I don't want a love story, now that I think of it. I'm sick of them. So what kind of story line... What other stuff... well there's horror movies and thrillers too, I can think of.
course coming of ages stuff...

so..

so it seems Tasha is my only reader. If I were in the magazine or newspaper biz I would definitely be out of business by now. I Can also guess that this would be the effect to my own writer/poet life as well. I guess my stuff is a quite trite. soo what can I do to revitalize my deadpoetry. how do I possess the original?


read more.


simple.


freakin simple.





I was out one night and I didn't want to go home. So I slept at friend's apartment on the floor. It was different from my everyday life previous to getting a job at the highschool. I did this in college all the time; staying out late with friends; walking the streets of Gallup at night, feeling the rush of danger at every dark corner. Of course nothing happen to me or my friends. We would kick back and have a laugh.


There was something in walking the streets at night or even the day time watching the other people being drunk or hung-overed in their wayward way of life. I would wonder among them and feel detracted and empathetic. I didn't drink in college, but i did when I was much younger and not much did i drink. I did it to experience drinking. I stopped when I turned eighteen and when i was inducted into the LDS church.


But as routine I did drive around town for a spell after doing my laundry. My life was feeling bleek so I watch a movie alone, The Ruins, and headed to the college in town looking for my friends that picked up a job there. After emailing I headed downtown because my friends weren't any where to be found on campus. Stop at the pub where I usually play music at once a month and had my self a pepis. The music wasn't something to listen to when on a rambling mission. I did hear one good song and it was an old jazz song. I forget the name but it was in the movie Swing Kids.

I found one friend in the old part of town. A dank place called the El Rancho. I kick back and listen to the jukebox while drinking a soda.
so this is a life I once was a custom to, when I was in college. and I do slip back in to it now and again.

I was doing some web surfing, (cowabunga dude!) and I looked up greaser gangs well not really I looked up the movie called The Wanderers. It was about a New York greaser gang made up of Itlians and they had conflict with another greaser gang call the Ducky Boys. Those guys were made up of Irish guys. So I did some more digging and found more about the gangs and find out that they are real gangs back in the day before rap and hip hop came to be.
I started to think about kind of story I could write about. I've always thought about writing about the experiences I have had with my greaser pals. Here are some facts: They live in Sanders AZ. There's three brothers and a sister. Names are Sean (we used to call him pony boy), Sheldon (he calls himself the fly), I can't believe it I forgot the younger brother's name, oh yeah it's Brandon and the sister, Rachelle. There are other's that hung with us; There is Alex, he comes from Fort Difinence AZ. The brothers had their friends in Sanders. I started to hang out with Sean in college with Alex. They use to have a pow wow drum group.
At first I only knew Alex though a cowork of myne. then I got aquainted with a guy name Jan. I started drumming with them and I met Sean. I thought man what cool looking geek or nerd, because of his black rim glasses, punkish attire and grease slick hair. They started calling him 'pony boy' because of his greaser hair.
I have lot of things to add but it goes nowhere. I know I write about this all the time and I still go around in circles. I don't have any forward motion or even a plot to set things on. If I would make a movie about it, it would be pointless. But I do want ot make a movie about rez life with greasers envolved. Because that's what I know. I need a plot...

movie in the making

one week into spring break, and it's great! I'm not doing anything in particular juat eating sleeping,walking around, etc., etc,. but not leaving this town very much. Las Vegas was the distinations, but I have no money to fill up my tank to go. I did work on location scouting this after noon, and i'm burnt out and Hondo still wants to go on. I can feel it now. the movie is slowly creeping up on me. soon enough... it will swallow me up. and I've been slacking at my part (reading up on cameras and studing sene set up). this place... this place has no time... nowhere it is...
two years have past sense we started the movie project.

long trail home...

what a weekend... our basketball team lost it first round match of state tournment to panasco. I enjoyed watching it through a camcorder. If anything that kept me watching the games. I get really board at basketball games and other school functions.


I did get to see my mother at the game. I hardly see her now days (me being a hermit and all). She was interviewed by the local Gallup newspapers about a month ago after the big snow fall in February. I missed the artical that week, on acount of being a recluse. I was told about it when I got to work. Everyone asked me if I saw my mom on the front-page of the newspaper. Of course you know the answer.


So about a couple weeks past by and my mother shows up at my door asking about my sister's storage and it's where abouts. I couldn't give any good directions to the thing. I had to show her where. I get ready and cleaned up and we go. I tell her about work, and she tells me about work over breakfast at a resturaunt in Windowrock, the former Navajo Nation Inn place. I ask her how did she get interviewed by the news paper and she told about it. I tell her I haven't read the article yet. She tells me that she has one in the house at Crystal, at summer camp. She goes on telling me about my brother Dale and how he read the news over the internet in Chicago, but at first he just browses over the article and he doesn't notice anything. A day goes by, and he gets an email form our cousin in Pheonix of the same article he just browsed over and finially gets that its about our mother. He calls her up and talks about it what I just put down.


I spend the rest of the day with my mother at the flea market looking at the crap people try to push there. I find an old book by Steven King, The Shining, hardcover edition and bought it for three bucks. It's in good condition too. And run into old friends and bought the jacket I'm wearing.
The day was alive at the flea market that day; not much wind, cloudless skies. My mother and I go back to Navajo and watch the movie Across the universe.


By the time the movie is over the day is almost over around four or five. My mother ask me to go and carry some stuff with her up to the house in Crystal. I follow her up in my truck. She tells me that I can read the article when I get there. What we have to do is stop just before the gravel road turns into a dirt road and park the cars. She gets ready and packs a backpack with some of the stuff she purchased at the fleas and another handbag with the bag of dog food I bought for the dogs and cat food, too. She hands me the a shovel and the handbag to carry up.





So began our walk. First, down the muddy road that wines west to north ward crossing the the stream. The water was higher than usual and cloudy from the rapid current kicking up silt and sand. The mud was five inches thick on the surface, and the trenches a foot deep from water flow. Crap. I forgot most of what I was going to write about the trip up to the house in Crystal. I spend too much time remembering the words I was going to used to discribe the road and the trial my mother made along the dirt roadside. The word was meander. The trail meandered through the tree, in the dusk of the day. The trail went through mud and sand, water and snow. It was a tough walking on melting ice and mud in some parts. There were some parts of the road that thawed out and dried up during the day. For it hasn't snowed for few weeks by then, and the weather started to get warmer... My mother and I did talk on the way up... but what about I can't recollect.
By the time we reached the house, the sunsetting was near completion. I walk inside to see about some stuff in my old room and I grab a Beatles' album I left behind. Mean while more talking about what are we going to do about Gina's storage shed.
My mom starts up a fire and perpares to feed the dogs. She makes herself a peanut butter jelly sandwich with raisen bread for energy with a bottle water for rehydration. Then makes me a sandwich as well before I go back down. I sit and eat in oil lamp light with the sound of the fire crackling. She comes back in from feeding the dogs.
I get ready to leave and just before I start walking down the road. I turn around and go back into the house and say where is the article of you in the papers.
The contient of the paper is of the winter mud and the large snow fall just a fews before. The Monday the Navajo Nation call for their employees to come in anyway they can, but the roads were under a foot of snow in Navajo and two feet and up in Crystal. So many employees around the area called-in saying they're not going to make it to work. But low and behold, my mother walks into work that day bundled up driving a ponitac named "little red." Thats how she got noticed. Of course the word gets to a newspaper reporter. They tract down my mother to interview her.
This is the jest of the article. And that's how came to finally reading her story by walking with her and spending the day with her... my goodness it sound like the book I'm reading. Crap.

the late day of turning in time.

it's finially over. the testing. i was ready to blow my mind out over it . sitting and just read edgar allenl poe... well is just. ol' poe the way out... like a window.
I simply out of words to think of but if just keep typing i'll come up with something i hope. nope nothing I guess i need to get going. the guys and i are going to watch 1oooo bc and i hope get stucked-in.
I have been sick in the past couple of days. and i start working and running to fight it off. i hatge being sick. it drives me mad. so i 'm going to find a bottle of nitequil and hopefully sleep like the dead. I wonder if kumen still has his sleeping pills... well oust Ich gennen.

much to do about...

Well I finished two books I have been reading; lord fo the flies and othello. I really enjoyed reading the lord of the flies. There were times I did feel hungry because of the characters' situation. I saw the movie when i was young. it shocked me to see kids kill other kids. poor Piggy, I thought. and simon. at times I did think to myself 'would I've sided with jack merridew, or rauph?" or " would I have been rauph or jack?" but many time I think of the movie while I read. I remember most of what happen to them. and now there are difference in the book. and I one item omitt'd, the lord of the flies talking to simon. it was the best part of the book.
Othello was hard to get into read mode and following along. but I did get the story line . like many people in shakespear's time didn't get it either, but got the story line. (I feel common, oh well) At first I thought the villian's wife was in on it. but she sang like a canary at the end. and her husband strikes her down.
Most evil and foul deeds be done from one to another with hissing in the ears of others.

I start reading another book with short stories and poems of Edgar Allen Poe. So far I read the Murders of Rue Morgue, and Mask of the Red Death (instructed to read it by Kumen to find out who's the narrator) I think it was death.
I like reading murders of Rue Morgue. It was very intense reading vocab. After awhile Othello wasn't bad of a read after all. they is one thing at still runs in my mind, one question, what was Piggy's real name?

'it ain't easy being cheesy'

Here is one I'm only messing around with. just one word of inspiration, beauty.

I have seen

You remind me of beauty, you remind me of dew drops on rose petals, the coolness of warm summer mornings, the soft chill of warm summer nights, remind me of beauty, when birds sing from tree to tree, when the sun sets in golden pink fire burning in the west, you remind me of beauty, In sleepy dreams, dreaming warm dreams, surealist paint affection with spatter across the sky, you remind me of beauty.

'down of the upside'

Here is something that I wrote about acouple months ago. It was out of the blue then i started thinking about playing with fire and redemption kind of stuff.


Journal entry #1

Set fire my darling, set it on my soul,
Kill the germs and place it stern,
Because I can’t live this way much longer,
If, I rather fry then go on killing my self,
Deeper and deeper, I go
Dark and Dirty and Down I go,
I hit the ground; I hit the ground hard,
Splatter my entrails and poof I’m gone,
Set fire my darling, set it on my soul,
I have nothing no more and I could have it all,
One slip of it and there I go
Dark and Dirty and Down I go,
Peace be with you,
And the pleasure’s all mine
To see you once again,
Those pretty eyes of brown and beautiful face of gold,
Sorry to leave such a mess I go
Dark and Dirty and Down I go,
I slip my shoes on
And fix my hair
Please be sure to take care
Because where I’m going
I’ll be the last one there,
So here I go
Dark and Dirty and Down I go.

one way or another...

this poem came to me in the beganning of the month. one night i was watching Donnie Darko and that guy with the program that polarizes emotion into love and fear. all the idiots that believe that junk crack me up. after that, I thought about fearing love and the next morning this poem came while i was getting ready for work. here it is:

Thank thee for nigh love

On my bloody knees at the dawn of mourning,
Can you for give a dead man?
The rose wilts in hand as tears pelt the petals,
The tears forever wails on my heart,
My heart thrashed out of my chest,
I merely wanted to love,
Cover the hole with my hand,
The lost one is gone.

Took piece of my heart out but for her,
I hope she got’em because I have none left,
Tears fall in the twilight of dreams and waking morning light,
The day presses on with enmity on my shoulders,
The ghost of a man walks around pretending to be me,
Going on through routine without fugue & fuse.

Gone is her love,
Never have I seen it,
Never have I felt it,
But a slab of meat,
I have ripped out my bleeding love for her for her love,
Beaten and tired,
The pursuit of love creased,
For I known only relics.



The poem feels unfinished want I come up with one more stanza.

After reading it a couple times over, I'm not moved by it any more. I don't feel the same. but still good words usage. i think.

my readings

I started reading the introduction for Othello. I remember the movie, O, and I did watch the old silent black and white film, too. I wonder if they are people like that... that have hatered for there fellow man.
I used to have dreams about snakes. They haunted me for years. I wonder if was because of killing a snake when I was kid of 12. I mentioned it once to someone in my english class at unm-g. They told me that if they bite you in your dream that someone close to you would hurt you, some you love. I did. I was biten in the throat in one dream and other times the snakes would be frozen and I would play among them and other strange things about snakes. I take it that my dreams were telling me my future. people would become snake and try to hurt me but they couldn't. but one would.
I have writen a poem about being hurt and hurting and love is anx. to me it is a celebration of love and triumph in a dark way. I will post it soon along with some other poems for the coming V-day holiday.

these days

Sun beams off the snowy blanketed land, We trudge throught the landscape with guns in hand. Following the leader in a single file, the five of us illegally hunting for game down in the valley near a wooded mountian range. We don't travel far from the snow-packed road. the snow is up to our knees even higher in someplaces. A breeze combs through the forest brushing lightly the soft snow off the branches. I follow behind the third person with an ak-47 in hand, I carry a pump-action 12 gage shot-gun, and the thrid person a 40mm hand gun in his trousers. The leader wore winter camoflage made for hunters and the rest of us were blundled up in normal clothes. Trailing behide me are two boys. We milly about for an hour or so following each other through the deep snow. We found deer tracks under the trees and started heading out toward the mountian side. We stop and headed back to the deer tracks to shave off some time and spotted a few horses. The leader lead us toward the horses to see if they might have some deer around them. None were around. The two kids started to goof a round so they were pushed in the ditch. They laughed all the way down. By that time we were worn out and decided to get the boys back. We back tracked ourselves to the car. A half day spent trail brazing through snowy forest floor, just we walk away.

its beganning to look a lot like christmas

I finally got out of the house and walked to work the other day. On the way back home. the cold air feel good against my face. Over the weekend the show fell like a soft blanket. the blankets accumilated ove the two days. now its slowing down. I woke up nice early today to enjoy this snow day. I travel to crytals to check on Razor. We hit a four foot snow drift on the road so shane, hondo, and i dug around for a few hours. I kept mentioning my board and that is good snowboarding wealther but i stop my self. for I sold my snowboard this past year. because i thought the wealther wouldn't be at anything great this year. but i was wrong. now i kick myself.

let it snow, let it snow...

one day I spent it on the south end of the bowl. people weren't able to reach this side because it was a quarter mile away from the highway and when the wealther warmed up a pool of slush formed in between. but this time it still was cool and the snow was fresh and crisp. not a soul had touch this end. I hiked up the slope and found jagged rocks covered up in three and a half feet of snow. I spent a half an hour climbing through the snow to reach the edge of the tree line. I rested. I look for the highness part of the slope at the treeline and start climbing. the open hill side isn't at all big enough, only a quarter of the slope is free of trees. the top three fourths is covered with pine and aspin. that's how the rest of the bowl is like, the top edge is wooded and the bottom is a open meadows and gentle slopes. the hill side I'm climbing has a good steep grade but a hell of climb to the top treeline. I ready my self and strap on the board... and a way i go.

and the beat goes on

Yesterday, I was remembering old child hood days of playing in the snow and stopped at eighteen and nearly breaking my neck.
I uses to trek up to the pass to go snow boarding. At the time I didn't own a vehicle to come and go as I pleased. I walked every where I could go and thumb-it the rest of the way. Narbona pass the place is named. The name use to be Washington pass, but several years ago they changed the name because of the events that occurred there along ago. Well the place where I go boarding at is in a bowl shape valley. The road cuts into it on the northside of it, then goes along the foot of an island of rocky cliffs and hill slands and over the summit northward to snake its way down the mountians. At the summit of the road, a dirt road leads off and climbs the side of the eastern side of the bowl moving southward.
Years of tubing and sledding have gone on in this end of the bowel. familys would get together with a the few tubs and plastic sledds and beat a trail with repettion. Only a couple years before I got my board, I saw single snaking path of cuts in the powder snow, not on the tubing end but where tubing and sledding couldn't go. I gazed in awe to know it was the snowboards that carved up the the powdery surface. That's when i dream about going snowbroading every time it snowed. I had balance and control but no money. The money i did earn during the summers were spend on skateboarding accessories, like before moving back into the mountians I had my heart set on buying an extreme set of wheels for the back wood roads of Crystal. Of course I did get them and I fell hard on my sides going at ten miles to fifteen miles per hour on those wheels. My thrills of adrenalin would be my drug.
that year i was surprised to received a snowboard for my birthday. after being use to using my skateboards as snowboards down the side of the ditch. I had to go to a larger place to use it. the ditch in front of the house wouldn't cut it any more.

'nothing in rambling'

the morning snow melted way by noon and the clouds are breaking up, I haven't gone outdoors for most of the day. I like being indoors now days. most of the time I sit and watch movies or try reading or listen to music, most of time sit and write about something that doesn't go anywhere or sleep or pace back and forth think up crap or sing songs i 'm committing to memory. On the weekend I stay home and do just that. I like the simplicity of my life, and how much my reclusive behavior can lead to cabin fever. Soon enough, soon enough. I still have my head on straight. I figure that by march, if any one is reading my blogs, will see a change. A dramatic change.
I remember being young and going out to the snow, play a while or a longtime. I loved it; the tubbing and sledding. those days coming in dripping wet clothes or frozen solid pants and shirt sleeves. Only around here we could manage that. many days of being sick with high fevers and colds. By the time I was in my teens I found the balance in the amount of clothing to put on to venture out in the snow. and found a good way to use my skateboards down the hillsides and ditches in Crystal. I finally got a real snowboard by the age of eighteen. I nearly broke my neck twice, that was great. to be continued....

Nothing in here to read.

my blog has no dots, my blog has no plots, my blog has nothing at all. not a picture of me, nor pictures of your, nothing at all. no friend, no pals to call upon when days come turnaround on the floor.

I can think of anything else to finish this nonsense peom. my blog. hmm... my title? nay... an O to the lump of putty i found under my armpit a midsummer night... nay! nothing it shall be. nothing!