I’d apologize in advance, but the swear-word feels most appropriate.

The only word that comes to mind right now is ‘Shitballs’.

It’s going on one in the morning after a rather long ‘friday’ in which I got frustrated at a co-worker and after which I got sick. The sick was coming, I felt it last night, but most of the day I felt alright. It waited until I got home to take over, what a jerk of a cold. So I spent most of the evening feeling sorry for myself and playing C&C3 on the 360.

Tony got home and asked why I didn’t just go to bed. I told him I wasn’t tired. Now I’m waiting for his sleeping pills to kick in. So I figured I’d go read some blogs until I got drowsy…

I get to my Google homepage, and what do I do? I accidentally mark all posts tagged ‘people’ as read. That means they just fell off the radar and I’d have to go read each blog one at a time. What’s really interesting about that is that it’s what I used to do every day… and there’s no way I’m doing it right now.

Also, I made a slew of plans for my weekend. I was going to go to my sisters boyfriends graduation (some moron scheduled it at 11AM on a FRIDAY), and I was going to go camping for a night, and on Saturday I was going to hang out with some friends and maybe go see Aaron Espe knock ‘em dead at the D-Note or go to a play… HOWEVER(ahem)… now it looks as though I’ll be lucky to make it to the show on Sat. evening. Shitballs.

words…

something quite nonsensical
like a thirty-tripod-tentacle
or water alphabetical
and diamond crusted medical

I was shooting for apocryphal
and ended up astrophysical
and lost in theological
yet somehow anaglyphical

and I used words that you had to look-up
hope you’ve got a dictionary hook-up
unless your mad that I took-up
some of your valuable time to sup
but honestly if you’re eating dinner and reading a poem
well, I really don’t know what to say to that.

The thinking water backfired

I have that upper-rear-throat-nasal-dry-itchy-tickle-thing going on. I do not need to be sick right now…

Had another rough day at work, and have some stuff coming down the pipeline that requires decision making, not looking forward to choosing one ‘good’ over the other ‘good’… BAH!

Had pizza and beer at Old C’s with Dad, then we took a whole cheesecake home to share with the family, ’twas a worthy late celebration.

I’m actually tired tonight, and before midnight to boot, no poem tonight, off to bed.

Random and Poem

Whoa! Pandora grew up! She’s all… pretty and… ladylike now!

Work kicked me in the face today, bah.

Tomorrow we’re doing “May 11th on May 23rd” – Meaning belated family birthday party…
(btw, for those confused by my post on the 11th, ‘Benty Sinko’ is a phonetic representation of ‘Viente y Cinco*‘ which is Spanish for ‘Twenty Five’ which is how old I became on that day.)

Somehow I ended up with an XBOX360.

Cold, cloudy, rainy, I miss Portland…

Poetic is a word, therefore, poetical should not be one.
(Also, poetic as a word sounds poetic, poetical as a rule, does not.)

(*Correction, thanks Micah, I knew that, but I’m dumb.)

And now for something that hopefully comes close to being poetic…
Words…

You bring with you a moment,
A silent something shared between,
Your perfect presence foments,
A fiery lust that lies unseen,

A desire unappeasable,
Forbidden from the start,
A summit unachievable,
The perfectly riven heart,

So take away this moment,
And rend yourself from me,
Be no more my ailment,
Choose to set me free.

Life Song

A slowly starting sacred song
With feeder chords it stretches long
It grows to fullness, caressing bliss
With a thunderous march one cannot miss
Then slows to a shallow trickling stream
Soon bound deep in monotony

And it’s here that the silence sets me free
To let it go and let it be
And I find a peace to em-bold my voice
Without a care but without a choice
So I step into the center light
And spill my words into the night

These words and chords are bound with hope
By a gentle silk as strong as rope
And they fly beyond this present place
Past our stars to the outer space
Deep in the black they resonate
Abolishing fear and releasing fate

And fate meets faith, face to face
And a sacred tune is born with grace
And it’s chords are ever gently strong
Like life’s own river flowing along
And it turns and winds effortlessly
On and on through infinity

Backtuit

Back in town…

News from Four Hours North

Sunday night I gave Sharon (the car) some TLC and took off north for Wyoming. You might be asking why someone would go to Wyoming for their vacation, trust me, I have plenty of reasons.

I’m now in Casper, my best friend Erik lives here with his dad, stepmom, stepbrother, and stepbrothers’ friend. It’s the most chill household that I’ve ever spent time in, it’s always relaxing and fun.

I haven’t really done much that is noteworthy, but that was kind of the point. We might go golfing in the morning tomorrow or Friday. Might go see Spiderman tonight (make no comments, I’ve heard both sides).

Last night ‘Dad*’ spoke to the City Council here in Casper about a political appointee to a Hotel/Lodging council that he’s on. They had the council meeting on GVT. Access, so us boys sat in the living room watching the proceedings. It was strangely interesting, and soon went from interesting to funny. I think it was one of those things that was absolutely hilarious given the circumstances and might have been a ‘you had to be there’ moment, it if was, you may well be bored by the remainder of this paragraph. But I’m going to write it anyway… We watched several locals get up to the podium and speak their piece (peace? which one goes there? peace probably, oh well) and rolled in laughter at the fellow who had rushed there from work to protest the annexation of his property, only to discover that the map that had been printed in the local paper was inaccurate and that he was not being annexed (and legally couldn’t be unless he asked to). We laughed at the shiny-headed bald guy who went up to the podium to sing the praises of the Council and talk about how long his family had been in Wyoming. We also laughed at the Councilman who looked like a pothead, and when we commented on it, Stepmom produced a photo of Dad with him and it turns out he’s a former state senator that introduced medical marijuana legislation…
Then came the moment of truth, when Dad got up and said his words. They gave him some crap but one of them showed their hand and when the truth came out, Dad called them out, it was great. When he got home we gave him a golf clap round of applause. He kicked ‘em in the face, it was way cool.

I guess that’s all for now, I think I’ll go back to the indulgences that are so integral a part of this thing called vacation…

A Quote:
“You’ve doubled the supply of Doug Rich and reduced the demand for Doug Rich!”

———-
*Throughout this post, ‘Dad’ refers to Erik’s dad, not my own, just so’s you know.

Benty Sinko

(five bucks [seriously] for anyone who can figure out that title…)

Today is the first day of my vacation.

I have the next nine days free of work obligations.

w00t with me, on the count of three…

1…

2…

3…

W00T!

The Daily Dime: Where was here? – pt.2

———-
Where was here? – pt.2
– Gabe Thexton –
———-

He woke, cold, something against his head. The table leg. Blood poured through his head like a class five rapid, thundering beat after beat. Red. The glow. One piece. Table. Zipper. He pushed away from the ground with his left hand. Legs, they didn’t work. Why not? Where was here? Legs, he tried to move them, the slid slowly across the floor, dragging, OUCH! Shoes, no shoes, why no shoes? Red glow. He tried to stand slowly, his legs were weak, but the table provided four more of them and he clung to it. Lifting himself up, he sat on it. It was a low table, wood, smooth and unblemished.

Think strong, be strong. He stood. His head beat against itself. He steadied against the table. He waited until his vision cleared somewhat. A shape to the side, tall and rectangular, definitely a door. He stepped slowly towards it. The red glow was definitely on the other side, it filled the frame, the empty frame. This was no prison. This was no cell. Here was not confinement. Where was here?

———-
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In Memory

Nine years ago today, my Aunt Cheryl died of Breast Cancer.
I wrote this shortly thereafter…
———-
Dying Young
In Memory of Cheryl Stine 1956-1998
———-
First, a seed planted in the ground,
Then, water sprinkled all around.
Growing, Maturing, Greener, Stronger,
Petals of wisdom growing longer.

A bug, disease, something’s wrong,
This flower won’t live very long.
Fading, Wilting, Dying, Dead,
I close my eyes and rest my head.
———-

The Daily Dime: Where was here?

Back with The Dime, Here we go one more time, super-short stories and sometimes rhyme…

———-
Where was here?
– Gabe Thexton –
———-

Weak, and stiff, he woke to the darkness. A red glow slowly penetrated the world around. He slid his hands back, and pushed up. He scooted backwards and rested his back on the wall. Grit, the dust of un-use, made it’s presence known between his hands and the cement floor. He lifted his hands and pressed them together, sliding them slowly against each-other.

Weak and stiff, dark and hard. He was here. Here was where? He strained his eyes, slowly beginning to glean details from the barely existent red glow. Things were blurry. He wiped his hands against his eyes. Tears and more blur. He scrunched his eyelids down, opened them again. He reached for the bottom of his shirt to wipe away the tears. He grabbed at the cloth and it moved only so far. One piece, from top to bottom. Sliding his hand up the front there was no seam. He felt the sting of the zipper in the back as it stalled against the wall and bit into his flesh.

One piece, weak and stiff, dark and hard. Where was here? Where was here?! Panicked he leaped to his feet. Panicked he came crashing back down. His legs were no use, they wouldn’t support him. On his side, straightening out. Slowing down as the panic faded. The red glow. The red glow. He sought out forms in the dim. He rolled and turned. There, something square. Something was there. He rolled towards it. The glow was insufficient and he slammed his head into something. A leg. A table leg. Where was here? He passed out.

———-
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