I could sit this one out

It's tough to sit when you're a player. I was going to sit this blog out tonight...but something...possibly the rusty muse...told me to get off my ass and write. Why, I'm seldom sure. I saw a robin today and now I'm wondering if the ground has warmed up enough so that the worms will be able to poke out so that they can become the robin's sustenance. There's so much I don't know. For one, do robin's only eat worms. For two, do worms freeze during winter and then do they thaw out just to become some fat bird's food. For three, what do worms eat. For four, do they really eat shit. For five, why am I thinking about hamlet. For six, is there a god. For seven, do robins and worms go to heaven. For eight, do cannibals after consuming a human being ever proclaim that they just ate a cock. For nine, did the cock ever crow nine times. For ten, I wonder what possesses me to write.
For eleven, is there any pain in being a flower. For twelve, I don't understand how this makes a dozen. For thirteen, do people ever read wallace stevens anymore. For fourteen, why stop. I'm glad you asked, because I was just about ready to tell you to shut the fuck up. I was about ready to say so, but so is so...so predictable. As is anyway. So and anyway are cop out words. So what you may be thinking, or anyway, it must be time for bed. Bed is a cop out too. Unless of course you're a worm frozen beneath a flower bed, or a robin, or a cannibal or an insomniac.

sniffing a dying hyacinth

I was on twitter a few moments ago lamenting on how I'd like to blog but was also wondering how I could cultivate a following. I was the whore, and I was pimping myself. Two women came back at me and said...write it and we will read. So here I am. Here I am seems so lofty doesn't it. I come to do your will..etc. Like lordy comes to mind too. Earlier today though I was thinking that the spring season is approaching and even though I did what I had to do with the clocks around here I still haven't seen my first plump robin of the year. I've heard their songs during my morning walks with the dogs but I haven't seen them attempting to pluck out big out big fat worms from mother earth. But then again, this is Buffalo and even the hardiest worms have enough sense to stay underground until the mud melts. Only us humans seems to rush the seasons. About a week ago I picked up this hyacinth from the local supermarket because the scent that it emanates reminds me of my mother and easter too. (probably because my mother once said she likes hyacinths and for forty years after she said that she got a hyacinth for easter) And the scent worked, because people in our house picked up on it. They began to feel resurrected ...like something new was going on in their life. And of course, we all know that something new is continually going on in our life, but at times, we think we need a prop or a prod. So, I am actually glad that I did mention that I felt like doing something like this tonight and I'm glad that I got a little poke. Wait a minute...twitter doesn't have a poke button. Anyway, since easter is so late this year and the damn hyacinth is already shriveling up and inching its way towards another season I may have to bring another plant into the house and write about that. When was the last time you picked dandelions.

going with the grain

Because I'm a big pain in the ass I like to go against the grain. I know no one gave me license to do so but I so much love doing so. I love to bust chops, and I'm wondering if that term is ever used anymore. (bust chops) That's probably more politically correct than being a ball buster. The whole vernacular has changed out there. That's good, but it makes me engage the think before you speak button a lot more. I remember when Joan Bozer joined our all male caucus from across the aisle about twenty years ago. She didn't change from Republican to Democrat but she was the most liberal minded republican I ever met. Goldwater today would probably be considered a liberal. Anyway after our caucus, Joan said that she had heard the word "fuck" today more than she heard it her whole entire life. And when she said that, I said to myself, I don't remember using that word at all this afternoon. The word fuck can still go against the grain even today. This all brings me to an old joke. People don't tell jokes any more. Our fast paced society likes only the punch lines. We seem to have lost time for the story. My brother Al and his pal Danny were horrible to be around. They came from another generation than me, so their stories lingered a long while before the punch line hit. And you see, I'm using their ploy right now. I haven't even begun to start the joke. It's not like I'm setting you up...it's more like I'm trying to remember the story and why I even think it's worthy of retelling. But what even would be cooler than me telling you, would you telling someone else...in your own version, and they would tell someone else and eventually someone else would tell you...and you upon hearing it would say...holy shit, this sounds vaguely familiar. A young couple and their seven year old son had relocated from a upstate New York city to a small town in Indiana. After they established themselves in a new church they thought it would be a nice gesture to invite their pastor to their home for an after Sunday service dinner. Through word of mouth they found out that the best ham you could get in their town was produced by the Damm Family Farm. It was known as the Damm Ham. So when the day came and the pastor was at the home of the his new parishioners, the man of the family said to his wife...honey could you please pass the Damm ham.. and.their young son sitting at the table with them exclaimed...geez dad, I didn't know you were so cool, could you please pass the fucking potatoes. If you laughed shame on you. If you didn't shame on me.

Blame

This is for me here on in...not you. I personally will not use the word ego anymore. Or should I say annoymore. Anyway. I overuse the word anyway too. But fuck it...it's less annoying than ego. Lately the word ego has seemed to become more of a scapegoat than anything else. Blame my ego. Hey, I'm sorry I was such an asshole last night...my ego got in the way. I would've danced with you...I actually ached to dance the tango with you, but something kept telling me that I was way much better than you...and you didn't deserve to be on the same dance floor with my ego. I mean...I really wanted to dance with you, but this damn ego kept on saying...hey man, wake up, she's not your style. I just love reservations. I want to call it the filter. So I said...what do you think ego...can you live with filter. Yeah, but be careful, this is alter ego speaking. Well,
what does super ego have to say about all this. I don't know, it's bad enough I have an ego to begin with, but now I have an alter and super one too. Nah, that was forty years ago...nobody pays attention to Freud anymore. Why's that? He always had his finger up his ass. Was it an ego thing? I think it was more of an id thing. Id, what the hell is that? I'm not quite sure, but I think id is short for libido. Yeah, that makes sense. But really it doesn't....that's why I simplified everything lately by attaching all significance to the ego. I had to simplify my world. And I only have me to blame if it goes wrong. Who are you? ...... isn't she a bit like you and we. I make my words and meanings as I go along. ...... .......... Yes, I agree.

not the original

No, if I can remember correctly, it was she who handed me the apple. And it wasn't a delicious one, it was more
like a jongold. Bullshit, they didn't have them back then. Yes, you're correct...you caught me. Do you want to
do that ala mode thing tonight? Hmmm...that's tempting. Where? In the garden. Yuck, the last time we were in
the garden the mosquitoes were biting like crazy. Well, just spray some off on you. It's not that easy. I always
get some on my lips and I hate the taste of that stuff. I hope you're talking about the off stuff. Yes, that's what
I'm referring to. You're lucky, I thought you were talking about me. Well, it could be you too...I mean if some
of my off rubbed on to you and I kissed that particular part, I wouldn't like the taste of it. It would be like
masking the original. You're being devilish tonight aren't you. Call it what you want baby...I'm just hungry for
you. Here, have a bite of this apple. I'm sorry...I can't. I can't eat any solids until sometime tomorrow after I'm
through with my colonoscopy. Yuck...you can be so unromantic at times...I think you need a good hosing. Ooo
baby, I love it when you talk that way. Go to bed jerkball and pray that the doctor doesn't have both hands on
your shoulder while he's doing that procedure in the morning. I made sure of that...I have a woman doctor.
Well, don't be so sure buddy...you'll be out cold while it's happening. Yes, but won't you be there holding my
hand. Maybe, if you take a bite of this apple.
Gaia Community | not the original by Tom — Gaia Community Page 1 of 3
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who's the muse anyway

My daughter purchased this orchid for me a couple of years ago for father's day. Our cat after months of appreciating the beauty of this wonderful plant knocked it down and shattered the pot it was in. The orchid died shortly after I replanted it. And that's the end of the story. Not really. Because now I'm infused with more juice from the muse. There is a wonderful poem written by Kenneth Koch titled "taking a walk with you." (google it, read it, it's worthwhile if you enjoy poetry) Anyway, I've been thinking that I almost feel like blogging again. I did blog almost daily for three years. I enjoyed it, but the website where I blogged closed down and I lost the desire to start writing again in a new place and with new friends, so I just quit all together. So I've been thinking that it may be fun to write ...not so much for the comments and the audience, but just for the sheer joy of writing for writing sake. A rumi (nation) of playfulness directed towards the unseen beloved. I will include a snapshot and possibly a tune and see if I can post more frequently than not at all. The snapshot will be taken from my cellphone camera so there will be a few limitations and of course since I don't listen to well to my muse, there will be limitations there too. But, the vast majority of time there will be a love affair going on between me and the imaginary reader and over time I hope to get back into the groove of posting regularly and possibly sharing a chuckle.
I've been told my blogs are a pain in the ass to read because they are mostly a blob of words with seldom a paragraph to separate thoughts. But I will not make any excuses. For now, it's just me and Mary my muse and the woman Kenneth Koch wrote about in his long poem.

attraction

Isn't it weird how attraction works. One person may be attracted to buddha and the other may be attracted to thepower of crystals. I would love to think that I'm attracted unconditionally to everyone and everything but that's not always true. Some folks just carry with them an energy that my energy doesn't seem to want to get too close to. I think that happens for a reason. And when that happens, I seem to suspend my penchant towards this notion of unconditional love. But, suspension doesn't mean I'll totally block out love, it means, my love is always there, but held in abeyance until either my energy turns itself around or the others' turns itself around. A connection must be made. The chief operative for me is always love. And unfortunately I forget about it. But that's OK...because I always remember it too. And the beauty lately has been, that I have been forgetting less. Which is a switch because I would think that as I age, I would be forgetting more. But, it's become less of a chore to remember. I've become a well oiled champion of love. I can't say it's become effortless, but I'm getting close. And I love it.
I'm coming into my own. I'm getting more attractive as I age. And, none of this, has anything to do with me.