The following screen cap, while edited to not show sensitive account information, is of an actual customer’s account that I spoke with:
For the record, the name was pronounced ‘Bott-monn’. But that didn’t stop me from nearly peeing my pants.
Here’s some pictures of my parents fly fishing last week, while I killed their garden and lawn watched after their house.
Everybody give shout outs to my folks. They’ve been married for nigh on 29 years, they love each other, and they didn’t do anything that fucked me up too bad as a kid (god bless, ‘em).
They said it was an avalanche
but really
what happened
was that God was walking
out to the refrigerator
at night
in the dark
and stubbed his toe.
“MOTHER FUCKER!� God shouted
& he grabbed two ice cubes
& a frozen snicker’s bar
& a pint of fruit juice
(Sweet vermouth, you understand?)
then he gathered up his marbles
and went home.
God plays for keeps, I guess.
Tiger’s eye
& Yellow glass
& Turquoise
& Steelies like millions upon millions
of bull castrations
but hey, we don’t get
mad anymore-
just bored and complacent.
Pop a shooter in the pile
and knock them right
the hell out of the
circle, please.
At least this isn’t Jacks.
Onesies.
Twosies.
Threesies.
Foursies.
“The sun is shining like
a red rubber ball
I think it’s
gonna be all right,�
says my radio.
and I nod in agreement.
I can’t argue with a good tune
and after all
we don’t get mad anymore
just tired and unsatisfied-
occasionally irritated- sore-
weakened, but not really,
‘cause I’ve still got two arms.
They said it was a flood
but really
what happened
was that Buddha got out
of the bath tub
which was filled to the brim
with pacific ocean
and displaced half of Asia.
“JUDAS PRIEST!� Shouted Buddha
& he threw his head back
& he made the metal sign
& he chugged an entire beer
(Budweiser, you understand?)
then he collapsed into
a pile on the floor,
rolled around in gasoline
and set himself on fire
as a protest against
foreign aggression.
he went up like a Chinese Firecracker.
he went off like a Magnum load.
he clapped & thundered & flooded the
world for 40 days and 40 nights,
but not really, since every religion
has a local flood story.
Meanwhile
we’re grooving on umbrellas and galoshes
and head colds and ponchos and overshoes
and rain coats and Noah and Arks
since after all
we don’t get mad anymore
and
we certainly don’t get wet.
They said it was a war
but what
really happened
was that somewhere along the line
the message got :::::twisted:::::
and :::::warped:::::
while the fundamentals were bastardized
and the maps got drawn
the wrong way entirely-
“GREAT GOD ALMIGHTY!� they all screamed
in their own languages
to their own deities
in their own ways and customs
& the Christians & the Muslims & the Jews
& the Hindus & the Krishna’s
& the Mormons & the Atheists all
sat around and argued
(but hey, what
else is new?)
And they gathered up
a Bible, the Koran, the I, Ching,
the Tibetan Book of the Dead,
and some Captain America
comic books, Summer 1974
then stayed up all night
listening to Carter family LP’s
It’s a sticky situation
But after all
We don’t get mad anymore
We don’t even remember what
outrage looks like.
I was driving on
the interstate
and
I saw a pick up truck
with a bumper sticker
that said: “The Roar of a B-1:
the Sound of Freedom�
and really
when I think about
bomber planes & missiles & machine gun
& nerve gas & POW camps & war
the last thing I think about
is freedom.
“Could I hitch a ride home?� asked Allah
“Could I borrow a quarter?� asked Vishnu
“Seňor, could I bum a cigarette?� asked Jesus Christo.
“COCK! COCK! COCK AND BALLS
LIKE A SUMMER HAIL STORM!�
sang the Pope to a nondescript tune.
& everyone was quiet and listened
because it’s not everyday
that the Pope
speaks so candidly
& really says what’s on his mind.
They brought the Pope
a meatloaf and some generic cola
which he
transubstantiated
in the body & the blood forever
and ever Amen
(he made the sign of the
the cross)
and everyone else made
peace signs with their
left hands and cut
their first two fingers off
with scissors
then made key chain charms
with them
for good luck
a quarter a piece-
members of religious icons-
offerings, I suppose,
but it’s hard to say and
after all
we don’t get mad anymore.
we don’t even get riled.
We’re just shrugging & shirking &
jumping through hoops
like some sort of goddamn
circus-performer-trapeze-artist-
tight-rope-walking-clown-in-a-car.
And it’s all so ridiculous
but who has time to argue
but at the very least
we don’t get mad anymore.
We’re ground round. roast beef.
chuck roast. beef tips.
well done, save for the
fact that we’re bloody goddamn raw
meat.
A shish kabob by any
other name would
sound just as sweet
But no one makes
shish kabobs out
of dog meat.
not god
not man
not animal or plant
(understand?)
II
Hey Mike-
How’d we get so old?
sometimes my joints hurt
my back gets sore-
it’s crazy.
Hey Mike-
Remember when we
were seventeen years old
and full of
shit and records
and ideals and
punk rock
what happened to that?
I forget things.
Hey Mike-
Remember college?
me either, but hey,
who’s counting?
sometimes reminiscing should
be less specific.
Hey Mike-
Mike,
you nap like a hero.
my hat is off.
I can barely nap most days
too much nicotine-caffeine
gasoline fuel in this old boy.
Hey Mike-
My knee is sore right now
I think it’s going to rain
I can’t prove it
but I think it’s going to rain
there’s not a cloud in the sky
even but my knee is sore
and I think it’s going to
rain, Mike. I think it’s going
to rain.
“Have you ever seen
the rain comin’ down
on a cloudy day?�
Asks the radio.
Hey Mike-
I haven’t. Not that
I can remember.
Sign me up,
though.
you can take
the photographs
and I’ll write
about it.
Hey Mike-
There’s a lot of people
I don’t like at all
And you’re
Not one of them
Just so you know
Just to get that out of the way
Hey Mike-
Mike.
Mike?
III
The agony of routine
Is a self-telling prophecy-
as it is no different
than being imprisoned.
Habits-
Bricks-
Build a wall with mud
If you like
Or a schedule.
(I shake my
head
since there’s
just as
much mud on my
hands, baby.)
“How’d you get
so anchorless?�
asks my radio,
right before it
answers back
something about small towns
that we live and die in.
how apt.
“Oh yeah life goes on long
after the thrill of living is gone.�
Touché
En Gardé
My arms feel stretched six different
directions at once-
I swear that my hand
had spun around backward
on my neck-
and when people look me
in the eyes I swear
to god that I can
read their lips and they
are saying “Padiddle�.
Padiddle.
Slug-bug.
Chinese fire drill.
It’s not that I don’t have
time for games, it’s just that
I also have a circle of
midgets wrapping ribbon
around my head just
like a May Pole.
for about seven hours
a day on average.
I don’t get paid for it.
No sir.
My morale needs boosted.
amazingly, my job agrees.
THAT is why this coming
Monday is scheduled to be
“WEAR YOUR BATHROBE TO WORK DAY�.
Perhaps I’ll participate.
I’ll wear slippers and jogging
shorts and if I cut
Myself shaving I’ll wear
toilet paper all day long
Like war paint
because I AM NOT FUCKING AROUND.
anymore.
I totally need a motherfucking mustache. Gentleman, ladies, whomever- please make me one. May it be thick and dictator-ish.
I’m being relocated by the Witness Protection Program as a South American dictator in Parauraguayuandanama. Wish me luck.
Sometimes my parents do really weird things that I can’t really explain.
This week, I’m watching their house while they are out of town. I’m mowing their lawn, feeding their cat, picking up their mail, etc. for them everyday. Watering their garden- those kinds of things.
BUT- They send a postcard to my house, care of, their cat. Ok? They sent a letter to their cat at my house, when I collect their mail at their house where the cat is at. They also live approximately two blocks away from my house.
So, I got this post card. And here’s what it says. I am not making the following shit up:
Dear Ruby,
Don’t worry! We’re staying
far away from the elk.
Take good care of Bill.
Love,
Mom + Dad
Mike was watching CNN’s coverage of the Michael Jackson verdict yesterday when I got home from work.
It seems like they were able to make a big, big story out of a relatively simple one. I was amazed at how thorough and insanely complex they’d made their coverage on it. It was bordering on completely insane. Finally though, it became completely insane.
They devoted an entire TEN MINUTE SEGMENT to talking about HOW QUIET IT WAS IN THE COURT ROOM WHEN THE JUDGE READ THE VERDICT. They kept going over and over with it, making sure you were able to understand how UTTERLY SILENT it was in the court room, as though there weren’t enough possible WORDS to desribe what SILENCE sounds like.
Totally ridiculous.
I guess Ray was right:
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
On the side of the road-
I bet you didn’t see that one coming.
One minute you were driving along
with the wind in your face-
Everything was carefree and easy.
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
On the side of the road-
You needed proper maintenance.
You need yr. tire pressure checked,
yr. oil changed, yr. tires rotated,
And a yearly tune up.
The fact that someone was so severely slacking
is a little disconcerting, Burned out wreck
of a Chevy Cavalier on the side of the road.
I’m no mechanic and I can tell you that.
Proper maintenance is the key to a long life,
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the side of the road-
I’m not talking about clean living.
There’s time for everything-
there’s also time off from everything.
Choose wisely and get yr. oil changed
every three thousand miles,
See a doctor every year,
Don’t drink so much milk,
Take a walk after dinner,
Read a book that changes yr. life,
Smoke marijuana daily and religiously,
Don’t just listen to that record-
LISTEN to that record.
You can add yr. own suggestions too
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the road, this list is by no means definitive.
What were you thinking about
Before you became a burned out wreck,
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the side of the road?
I woke up listening to an album
one night last week
And I was convinced that I was dying.
I thought to myself, “Well,
I’m finally going to get some sleep.�
And I rolled over.
That’s also how I figured out that
I wasn’t dying, Burned out
wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the side of the road.
Did you surrender?
Did you go out in a blaze of glory?
Is there human flesh singed into
your leather upholstery?
Fat burned flesh, yes?
Did you horn blare?
Did your breaks squeal?
Did your life flash before your eyes?
I know where they buried Jimmy Hoffa
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the side of the road.
I know what happened to John Delorean
when he lost everything.
I know the final last words of Martin Luther King Jr.,
Malcolm X, Ghandi, John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy, and
Abraham Lincoln and those words were
“WHAT?�
“WHAT?� is a question of outrage
and those are the kinds of questions
that intelligent men ask.�
“WHAT?� also replaces the swear words
that the less composed use interchangeably
If I was Abraham Lincoln and John Wilkes Booth shot me
Would my last words be “WHAT?�
Where were you September 11, 2001
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the side of the road?
People are going to be asking that question
For the rest of my natural life and the answer
Is that I was asleep in bed,
Skipping an eight thirty A.M. English lecture
and I was a whole world
away from New York City in Iowa
and nothing about that day seemed real
Though it did seem terrifying, because
I had been to the World Trade Center once.
It was a gargantuan building that
sat in an ocean of gargantuan buildings
and was as amazing a view of city
as Pike’s Peak is an amazing view
of Rocky Mountains-
I’d rather have the mountains, Burned out
wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the side of the road,
They’re better for people like me.
I have Mountain Man fantasies some times-
I’ll be about fifty years old
with a beard down to my knees
and I’m naked and I live in a
cottage by myself with
my books, and my records, and my drawings
Sometimes I don’t see other people
for weeks on end-
I think this is my master plan.
I need to enact it.
I’ll start saving up flannel shirts
and long underwear now.
At nights I’ll drink whiskey from
a wooden barrel and sit in a rocker
on my cottage porch
and trace stars with my fingers.
It’s too bad that you are already spent,
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the side of the road, you’d like it here-
it’s quiet.
There’s nothing natural about
the office I work in, Burned out
wreck of a Chevy Cavalier on the
side of the road. There’s nothing
natural about anyone’s office.
Nothing in nature goes to the office.
The Lion, the king of animals, does not
ever visit an office.
He commands a PRIDE not a TEAM.
Offices are full of bad coffee,
vending machines, water coolers,
middle age, homemade lunches,
cubicles, computers, stress and
vitamin D deficiency.
There’s nothing natural about offices.
Nothing at all.
There’s also nothing natural about burned out wrecks
of automobiles, Burned out wreck of a Chevy
Cavalier on the side of the road.
I hate to say it, but it’s true.
Don’t take it personally, I’m not blaming you.
While it’s important to live in NOW,
it’s also important to remember
that we live in HISTORY.
I’m going to keep reminding people
how short our history actually is
even if it gives me stomach ulcers.
We’ve four more years of George W. Bush
and more time spent in a war
that is an absolute sham
and every bit as shameful and disgusting
as the Vietnam.
I’ll be Twenty Seven years old when
we’re finally rid of this smirking goon.
Don’t think I’m not counting the days,
Burned out wreck of a Chevy Cavalier
on the side of the road,
because I cannot wait for them
I’m ranting again, Burned out wreck
of a Chevy Cavalier on
The side of the road, and I’m sorry
about that
It’s a habit of mine.
Indulge me.
I like to play with words and see where they go.
I like to follow them like a cat tosses yarn
or a dog fetches a stick.
I’m a big fan of words, Burned out wreck
Of a Chevy Cavalier on the side of the road,
they’re all that I have.
Ok. So say you live in a house with three other people and a couch mysteriously shows up in your living room that no one can explain the prescence of AND the two people most likely to get wasted and bring a couch into the living room weren’t wasted and can’t explain where it came from either. And while this couch did show up after a wild weekend of drunkeness and druggedness, the couch showed up during a time when none of that was going on, three people were asleep and one had left for work by 7:15 AM and there was no mystery couch around at that point.
What would you do with this hypothetical couch?
Suggestions in the comments, por favor.
My friend Abbie graduated from Bellevue University yesterday, so my room mates, some friends, and I went to her graduation ceremony at the Civic Auditorium.
After we stayed up all night.
After we got bombed Friday night.
After I spent all Thursday night and Friday getting ripped out of my mind and tripping and spending as little time away from reality as possible. But christ, the music sounded amazing man. I spent a good portion of Friday listening to records at the wrong speeds. Fast and slow. Slow and fast. ::::::Slooooooooooow::::::: as all hell and then torked up and speedy like a pneumatic valve. Riding the wave, as it were.
Hell, the no sleep bit added into it only made it the best day I’ve had in weeks. Seriously folks, yesterday was awesome. The graduation ceremony was painful to listen to, as the speakers they had sucked completely and were obviously not professional speakers. But due to the state I was in, they were hilarious. We spent the entire three hours giggling like maniacs, cracking jokes, shouting, cheering, etc. all running on no sleep, red-eyed, hungry, and completely into the moment.
A packed Civic Auditorium made for an incredible high. I could feel waves of applause. I could feel the laughter of several thousand people at once in waves. While perhaps stark, raving mad for a good portion of the ceremony, I had the time of my life.
The people sitting around us even started to get into it. There was this middle aged couple sitting in front of us who we could hear laughing at our jokes, and who would periodically start shouting things with us, and cheering along, and having fun.
I’ve had some doubts about Bellevue University, as far as it being a real school, and some of those doubts were brought to life when they announced the degrees. Many of their degrees were legitimate ones. Communications, marketing, English, Business, etc. But then, and I’m totally not kidding about this, they announced their graduates who had a degree in LEADERSHIP. My brain sputtered out of control at this. LEADERSHIP? Huh? What the hairy-wolfman-fuck?
I kept getting images from the Leader in the movie Sleeper. You know, the Nose? And then I started wondering if one could get a PhD in Leadership? Or a Bachelor of Science. It seems only fitting that one should be able to get a BS for a BS degree. But I digress…
The ceremony ended around noon and we got home around One O’Clock, but we still had a graduation party to go to at Two. Everyone but me had a half hour nap. I stayed up watching the clock and playing Mario 3 in the living room, just because I knew that when I finally went to bed, I wouldn’t be waking up until today. We got to the party around 2:30 and I’m still wondering if the other guests there were put off by our table where we were all jittery, and red-eyed, and sleep deprived, and out of it, and still laughing at any and everything. My friend Ben told us a really endearing story about Blood-Ponies. Still not sure what the hell those are.
Finally, I got to bed at 5:30 and only had to wake up for about twenty minutes around 10 PM because my parents needed to give me a list of chores to do while they’re out of town and I’m watching their house for the next couple of weeks. Then it was back up the street and back to bed. And now I have to work all day and work at both of my jobs. Good thing I’m still loaded on Seratonin. Good work brain. You’ve been working overtime.
Takin’ care of business. Wooooo!
It was strange being a puddle, but I adapted quickly. I spread my watery little wings and went with the flow, as it were. I trickled across the floor to the drain where I dripped out of sight.
drip.
drip.
drip.
drip.
A puddle has very little shape to it and changes constantly. Rippling and evaporating reflections and fluid images until the clouds release more water and repeat the whole process again.
drip.
drip.
drip.
drip.
The faucet is leaking and I forget where I am. It’s very bright in here.
drip.
drip.
drip.
drip.
I am a puddle. I am a pool. I am a lake. I am a sea. I am an ocean. I am 90% water and cover 3/ths of the surface area of the world. I’m bigger than Jesus. I sank Atlantis. I sank Titanic. I sank the U.S.S. Arizona.
I’m wet behind the ears, if you will.
drip.
drip.
drip. drip.
drip. drip. drip.
drip. drip. drip. drip.
drip. drip. drip. drip. drip.
It’s maddening, I’m telling you. It’s like the goddamned crickets that wouldn’t stop chirping last night as I lay in bed trying to sleep. It was no use. They wouldn’t be silent.
chirp. chirp.
drip.
chrip. chirp.
drip.
chirp. ch-chirp. chirp.
drip. drip.
chirp. chirp. chirp. chirp. chirp. chirp.chirp. chirp.
dripitty doo dah day.
chirpittychirpchirpdrip.
drip chirp and drip chrip and drip chirp.
Pollywannaputasockinit?
Thankyoooooooooooou.
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