It was three close friends from a distant past together again for a weekend. Saturday night they'd recieved invitation from some girlfriends to come out dancing with them. Guys are always willing to do what cute girls want them to do this is simply fact. Chris had found this new band that he put into the computer and played through the speaker's. The music that came out immediately demands your ears to perk up at them and you do without second thought because it's that infectious. They listened to it again without remark while looking through some collected photographs. Around later the three of them finally made way for the club where they were to meet up with their cute girlfriends. The conditioning of beer made their bodies sway to the music pumping behind them so they instinctively followed the wave and reason for their being there. Hit the dancefloor.
It doesn't take much to recognize the pleasure felt via invisible patterns moving all around people when they let themselves dance. The beats inundate your bloodstream, kissing each cell as it passes by, licking them into releasing unwanted tensions.
After constant dancing for more than two hours the group of friends decided to leave and head home. Chris' car only had room for three in the front so the guys rode up there while the four ladies who joined them laid in the back. Snuggled close together. Their picture was taken. All was well. A cute friendly girl there asked Allen out on a date because she liked the way he danced and other reason's he's sure. What they are is not known. She said she liked his 'chops'.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Sullen Sunday
Sullen Sunday Oct 8.06
Such a beautiful day today it'd be a shame not to spend it outside. I pick up a pack of American Spirits and a bottled water from the corner store. Standing outside are a couple of harmonious singer's. A black man missing several of his front teeth, apparently blind, and a white lady with her eye's closed, chubby, rotund. Singing an unfamiliar song but doing it really well. I wanted to give them money and sit and listen to them but I didn't for some reason, probably not a creditable one, probably was concerned with how other's would think of me. Silly social concerns like that will stop me from living spontaneously and joyfully. Not even a block down I see a father kneeling to his daughter pointing into a store window where there are figures of a red devil and skeleton done in the Mexican style of lacquered paper mache with their arms around each other. Subconsciously I make the distinction between these two figures and the couple of blind singer's I just pasted and I look back again at them, still singing, looking so out of the norm and uncaring, enjoying what they do, without concern. I find great relief in them. I walk a little further and stop to lite a cigarette and put on my Ipod, Labradford album. I turn into a small graveyard and walk through to the other side and make a left out. A small cemetery. Wonder what lives were lead here in these bodies laid to rest? Soldiers? Missing husbands? Housewives died of old age, lonely? Nobody ever comes to visit you do they? Only passer bye's like me walking to another destination. I come across two of Greg and Katherine's German friends and stop to say hello. Continue walking deciding to go ways I'd never gone before in attempts to see all the hidden pathways that make Old Philadelphia so unique. They're at every turn. Leaves rake under my feet. Green moss fill the cracks between uneven cobbelstone. I decide to sit down in the courtyard of the first White House and there are people site seeing all around, couple's walking with hands clutching, families, and a Asian girl whose on her phone now. I remember her from earlier this morning when I was up in my apartment reading some of my old writings. I looked out the window and saw her stop and take a photograph in my direction, of the building I live in. I wonder if she'll look at that picture and see me on the third floor window looking at her? Strange how I saw her here. But I set it up that way. I wanted to see her again when I saw her take that photo, I followed her with my eyes, willing subconsciously to run into her somewhere and there she was walking past me with her phone on her ear and me with my Ipod in mine. Only in the unphysical dimension of imagination and stories will we know each other?
Just between the physical reality there is undoubtedly other realities that await eyes to see them. More tangible in a way than this plastic seemingly fake reality where societal infections of behavior hinder us from acting out on our desire's and feelings. The tree's know this about us, that's why they've kept quite for all time. They just got fed up quicker I guess? Didn't see the point in continuing to try and live the lie. They commune in that other world beyond surfaces. How does nature do that? Exist so purely and eternal, where their presence is always beautifu and knowingl.
When I get too close to the source there is a wall of self-destruction there waiting. There is a time of love and devotion and out pouring creativity and enthusiasm and almost getting to see her face and know her presence, but then just like bumping into a brick wall I fall back. Not this time though. I'm talking to you about it. I don't want to loose you so I'm going to hold on, hang in. I've smelled your breathe and I know you are the one, the reason for me to exist in this world. To create you and show you without loosing you, without cheating on you, or mistreating you. You know I would never do that to you don't you? You have to know you mean more to me than anything physical eventhough I am a depraved man needing of desire and skin pleasure that pass and come back in psyciological phases that I've yet to be able to control. Do you forgive me for those times? You live there too do you? Sometimes I think you live all over me. In every part of me, body and being. That's what I like about you, you make yourself available.
Such a beautiful day today it'd be a shame not to spend it outside. I pick up a pack of American Spirits and a bottled water from the corner store. Standing outside are a couple of harmonious singer's. A black man missing several of his front teeth, apparently blind, and a white lady with her eye's closed, chubby, rotund. Singing an unfamiliar song but doing it really well. I wanted to give them money and sit and listen to them but I didn't for some reason, probably not a creditable one, probably was concerned with how other's would think of me. Silly social concerns like that will stop me from living spontaneously and joyfully. Not even a block down I see a father kneeling to his daughter pointing into a store window where there are figures of a red devil and skeleton done in the Mexican style of lacquered paper mache with their arms around each other. Subconsciously I make the distinction between these two figures and the couple of blind singer's I just pasted and I look back again at them, still singing, looking so out of the norm and uncaring, enjoying what they do, without concern. I find great relief in them. I walk a little further and stop to lite a cigarette and put on my Ipod, Labradford album. I turn into a small graveyard and walk through to the other side and make a left out. A small cemetery. Wonder what lives were lead here in these bodies laid to rest? Soldiers? Missing husbands? Housewives died of old age, lonely? Nobody ever comes to visit you do they? Only passer bye's like me walking to another destination. I come across two of Greg and Katherine's German friends and stop to say hello. Continue walking deciding to go ways I'd never gone before in attempts to see all the hidden pathways that make Old Philadelphia so unique. They're at every turn. Leaves rake under my feet. Green moss fill the cracks between uneven cobbelstone. I decide to sit down in the courtyard of the first White House and there are people site seeing all around, couple's walking with hands clutching, families, and a Asian girl whose on her phone now. I remember her from earlier this morning when I was up in my apartment reading some of my old writings. I looked out the window and saw her stop and take a photograph in my direction, of the building I live in. I wonder if she'll look at that picture and see me on the third floor window looking at her? Strange how I saw her here. But I set it up that way. I wanted to see her again when I saw her take that photo, I followed her with my eyes, willing subconsciously to run into her somewhere and there she was walking past me with her phone on her ear and me with my Ipod in mine. Only in the unphysical dimension of imagination and stories will we know each other?
Just between the physical reality there is undoubtedly other realities that await eyes to see them. More tangible in a way than this plastic seemingly fake reality where societal infections of behavior hinder us from acting out on our desire's and feelings. The tree's know this about us, that's why they've kept quite for all time. They just got fed up quicker I guess? Didn't see the point in continuing to try and live the lie. They commune in that other world beyond surfaces. How does nature do that? Exist so purely and eternal, where their presence is always beautifu and knowingl.
When I get too close to the source there is a wall of self-destruction there waiting. There is a time of love and devotion and out pouring creativity and enthusiasm and almost getting to see her face and know her presence, but then just like bumping into a brick wall I fall back. Not this time though. I'm talking to you about it. I don't want to loose you so I'm going to hold on, hang in. I've smelled your breathe and I know you are the one, the reason for me to exist in this world. To create you and show you without loosing you, without cheating on you, or mistreating you. You know I would never do that to you don't you? You have to know you mean more to me than anything physical eventhough I am a depraved man needing of desire and skin pleasure that pass and come back in psyciological phases that I've yet to be able to control. Do you forgive me for those times? You live there too do you? Sometimes I think you live all over me. In every part of me, body and being. That's what I like about you, you make yourself available.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Dancing and The Husband Factor
Last night they danced like ravenous lovers, exhibiting dips and lunges as if in a wild river rapid, possessed by an interior urge to exorcise repressed emotions. The music wasn't all that good and it felt like the DJ may have been schizophrenic to some degree, or at least mildly tone deaf, but this did not hinder the dancer's enthusiasm. Any beat would do. They simply adjusted for any off timed mix. After a couple hours of gyration and thrusting the group of dancers felt they could use some fresh air reminded by the close proximity of dozens of other mover's and shaker's gradually encrouching, compacted with a hovering cloud of cigarette smoke that they had bodies, and they were saying, 'give us a break and you need fresh air.' This was merely intermission, a slight reality check, soon there after they went back inside, contuining with the liberation of body and mind. It was a feast of the body. A Dionysian gorge of rhythmn and movement set to a backdrop of beats. Hurt so good.
Within the past two weeks I'm going to say, a strange phenomena of sorts has occupied my life. Not strange in the sense of paranormal activity ,although something like that could be trying to creep into my consciousness via this subject, trying to 'say something'? I can't be sure, but strange in the sense that it's from out of nowhere, seemingly unplanned, unthoughtout, not within my scope of intentionality. I have received three proposals for husbandry by three different ladies at various times in a very small time frame. These three separate ladies are all co-worker's of mine and no doubt talk about me behind my back, I'm sure after these forward compliments.
The first lady to comment to me about this was a nice, friendly Southern Cowgirl type from Austin, Texas of all places whose recently moved to Philadelphia if I remember correctly? She made the comment that, 'if I were a little younger I'd marry you.' I smiled in reply. What was I to do? My Ipod was playing Tom Waits by my request and she'd walked into my area and began talking to me about Tom with a huge smile like I'd made her the happiest woman alive because she knew someone else who listened to and liked Tom Waits. The backstory to this is that we'd had other similarities of interest's like a odd unquenshable thrust for knowledge and learning, talking from politic's to books to travelling to Cuba, and obviously we had a recognized ease with each other's personality traits so for her to say that to me was kind of an acknowledgment that in another life we'd have made a good couple more than a direct forward annunciation that she wanted to be with me. So that was the first comment about the 'husband factor'.
The second was by another very nice lady who works in the make-up industry prettying Senator's and busty phone sex models for television. We'd talked briefly in passing and always shared big hello's and smiles whenever we saw each other and then one day I was playing a Sade album when she came walking up behind me and made the comment that, 'if you were older I'd marry you' or something like that. Basically the same thing the first lady had said but reversing the older' ,'younger' scenario. Both of these women are I'd say mid-forties? Both of these ladies are people whose company I would enjoy outside of work and would welcome a drink or conversation with and probably will down the road should the opportunity arise for they are both well spoken and have interesting things to say and I always enjoy listening to people who have more experience in living than I do talk about things that are interesting to me to hear about.
The third comment was made the end of last week and was made indirectly to another co-worker of mine who then passed on the information to me, probably with the intention of creating a internal workshop soap opera which I of course will take no part of. This lady and I share a similar age and she has a child of less than a year and how serious she is or not, is probably looking for a good man to help watch over her child with her and who she can tolerate and consider's 'normal', which she did call me and to which I had many grave questions which I kept to myself for she presumed to walk away quickly after rapid firing me with half-a-dozen question's. They were yes or no question's. She's inquisitive.
All of this gives me some comprehension of self-worth for I figure I must be doing something right if these women all feel I'd be worthy of courting them. This all comes during a time in my life where I have conscientiously separated myself from the movement towards looking for any companion whatsoever and have intentionally kept more to myself wanting to only focus on my artwork and creative endeavors. I find it very complimentary that three women, who I also find intriguing to be around, feel the same about me. But alas, none of the women would I really want to sleep with per se or be married to for any reason and not so much because of them but rather that I do not want to be married at all to anyone really, at least not in the way they mean. So it's this concept of marriage and me as 'husband' that has come into my waking reality that has been questioning what indeed I would be like as a husband or a father and would I be able to deal with both wanting to work in my studio and have to be responsible for another small human and what would it be like to have a 'wife', a fine lady I'd love and get love back from on a daily basis, although that is probably more fallacy than outright reasonalbe to even think, I mean no relationship is without its turmoils and hardships, not even me and my work get along sometimes. Sometimes the pen just doesn't want to work in direct harmonious unison with my hand, like they have two separate minds and none the two shall meet. But isn't that the challenge? The rope with two ends that you keep trying to tie back together to form a warm knot with?
I think I'd make a fantastic husband.
I found four one dollar bills crumpled up in a cup in a trash can on my lunch break one day last week. I was throwing away a toothpick from a sushi sample and saw the beckoning bills sitting right there looking at me, like they were calling out my attention. I put aside all social proclivities and made my hand go in for the money's. The trash janitor was the only one I made eye contact with but I'd beat him to it. He missed out if he didn't think anybody would stick their grubby hands in the trash canister to pick out dirty dollar bills. Well he was wrong and I won and am four dollar's richer. That same day I jokingly made a bet with lady #1 from above that a certain folder was 'black' and not 'green' like she'd thought it was. The bet was two dollar's which she came up with and when I returned from my lunch break she gave me those two dollar's, although I'd have been fine if she never gave it to me. I thought it was more of a friendly joke.
Within the past two weeks I'm going to say, a strange phenomena of sorts has occupied my life. Not strange in the sense of paranormal activity ,although something like that could be trying to creep into my consciousness via this subject, trying to 'say something'? I can't be sure, but strange in the sense that it's from out of nowhere, seemingly unplanned, unthoughtout, not within my scope of intentionality. I have received three proposals for husbandry by three different ladies at various times in a very small time frame. These three separate ladies are all co-worker's of mine and no doubt talk about me behind my back, I'm sure after these forward compliments.
The first lady to comment to me about this was a nice, friendly Southern Cowgirl type from Austin, Texas of all places whose recently moved to Philadelphia if I remember correctly? She made the comment that, 'if I were a little younger I'd marry you.' I smiled in reply. What was I to do? My Ipod was playing Tom Waits by my request and she'd walked into my area and began talking to me about Tom with a huge smile like I'd made her the happiest woman alive because she knew someone else who listened to and liked Tom Waits. The backstory to this is that we'd had other similarities of interest's like a odd unquenshable thrust for knowledge and learning, talking from politic's to books to travelling to Cuba, and obviously we had a recognized ease with each other's personality traits so for her to say that to me was kind of an acknowledgment that in another life we'd have made a good couple more than a direct forward annunciation that she wanted to be with me. So that was the first comment about the 'husband factor'.
The second was by another very nice lady who works in the make-up industry prettying Senator's and busty phone sex models for television. We'd talked briefly in passing and always shared big hello's and smiles whenever we saw each other and then one day I was playing a Sade album when she came walking up behind me and made the comment that, 'if you were older I'd marry you' or something like that. Basically the same thing the first lady had said but reversing the older' ,'younger' scenario. Both of these women are I'd say mid-forties? Both of these ladies are people whose company I would enjoy outside of work and would welcome a drink or conversation with and probably will down the road should the opportunity arise for they are both well spoken and have interesting things to say and I always enjoy listening to people who have more experience in living than I do talk about things that are interesting to me to hear about.
The third comment was made the end of last week and was made indirectly to another co-worker of mine who then passed on the information to me, probably with the intention of creating a internal workshop soap opera which I of course will take no part of. This lady and I share a similar age and she has a child of less than a year and how serious she is or not, is probably looking for a good man to help watch over her child with her and who she can tolerate and consider's 'normal', which she did call me and to which I had many grave questions which I kept to myself for she presumed to walk away quickly after rapid firing me with half-a-dozen question's. They were yes or no question's. She's inquisitive.
All of this gives me some comprehension of self-worth for I figure I must be doing something right if these women all feel I'd be worthy of courting them. This all comes during a time in my life where I have conscientiously separated myself from the movement towards looking for any companion whatsoever and have intentionally kept more to myself wanting to only focus on my artwork and creative endeavors. I find it very complimentary that three women, who I also find intriguing to be around, feel the same about me. But alas, none of the women would I really want to sleep with per se or be married to for any reason and not so much because of them but rather that I do not want to be married at all to anyone really, at least not in the way they mean. So it's this concept of marriage and me as 'husband' that has come into my waking reality that has been questioning what indeed I would be like as a husband or a father and would I be able to deal with both wanting to work in my studio and have to be responsible for another small human and what would it be like to have a 'wife', a fine lady I'd love and get love back from on a daily basis, although that is probably more fallacy than outright reasonalbe to even think, I mean no relationship is without its turmoils and hardships, not even me and my work get along sometimes. Sometimes the pen just doesn't want to work in direct harmonious unison with my hand, like they have two separate minds and none the two shall meet. But isn't that the challenge? The rope with two ends that you keep trying to tie back together to form a warm knot with?
I think I'd make a fantastic husband.
I found four one dollar bills crumpled up in a cup in a trash can on my lunch break one day last week. I was throwing away a toothpick from a sushi sample and saw the beckoning bills sitting right there looking at me, like they were calling out my attention. I put aside all social proclivities and made my hand go in for the money's. The trash janitor was the only one I made eye contact with but I'd beat him to it. He missed out if he didn't think anybody would stick their grubby hands in the trash canister to pick out dirty dollar bills. Well he was wrong and I won and am four dollar's richer. That same day I jokingly made a bet with lady #1 from above that a certain folder was 'black' and not 'green' like she'd thought it was. The bet was two dollar's which she came up with and when I returned from my lunch break she gave me those two dollar's, although I'd have been fine if she never gave it to me. I thought it was more of a friendly joke.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Part I
Jeremy stood short in his stance, he was a good six inches shorter than the average for his class. He'd always been ridiculed for his stunted stature growing up, making it worse he was also very frail. On the way home from school one day, a Friday when all the kids were especially anxious to get home, Jeremy lagged behind not having much to look forward too. None of the kids would be calling him up to hang out anyway. Mom and Dad were never around, always out at the casino's. This Friday Jeremy stumbled over a tree root in the ground that made him look down. Underneath the tree root Jeremy noticed a glittering piece of rock. He didn't know what it was at first but he picked it up and held it in his hand. Shortly his hand began to turn warm and see thru. He could almost look through his skin to his veins and a little of the sidewalk even. Jolted by this he dropped the magical rock and just as quick his hand turned back to normal, like any other boy's hand. Jeremy stood there for some time pondering what had just happened. He decided he had to at least keep this special rock for keep sake and maybe look at it later to see if anything happened again. He put it in his backpack and continued walking home.
When he got home there was a note on the kitchen table from Mom saying she and his father had gone out to Joe's and would probably be out late, that there was a microwaveable dinner in the freezer and to get to bed early. Jeremy was used to this kind of behavior from his parent's by now, for years they'd barely had a single meaningful conversation about anything, not even about his day or how he was doing in school. Jeremy heated up his meatloaf dinner with corn and mashed potato's and sat down in front of the tv. Feeling hopelessly bored Jeremy then remembered the rock he'd found earlier in the day walking home from school so with excited enthusiasm he ran to his bag to get it out. The rock in his bag had a somewhat phosphorescent glow emanating from it now, he didn't remember it having this sheen during the afternoon, maybe it glows in the dark he thought? Curiously Jeremy pulled out the rock from the pocket and held it up to the tv light. Vaguely the rock began to change luminosity and loose its glow, turning more solid like he found it in the day. Jeremy held the rock closely to his chest now and walked toward his bedroom where it was completely dark. He walked into his closet where no light was sure to enter. Holding the rock out in view now Jeremy again noticed it's vibrant luminosity and his hands warming like before. This wasn't a painful or frightful warming but something like a warm shower on a cool morning, rejuvenating, desirable. Jeremy was amazed at the strangeness of this rock for he had never seen anything like it before. After a while he began to feel slightly different than ever. Like he was getting lighter or losing weight. The translucency he had noticed before in his hands were now moving all throughout his arms and chest and he wasn't afraid but welcomed it, he was feeling better than he'd ever felt in his life. Eventually, still holding the rock Jeremy turned completely invisible. To make sure it wasn't just the darkness of the closet that didn't allow him to see himself he walked outside his room and into the living room where the tv was and to his amazement he wasn't there, his body was entirely dissappeared. He held up his arm to the window where a little moonlight shone through and there was no arm. He looked down at where his feet should be but there were no feet. He couldn't believe it. He walked into his parent's room where the only mirror in the house was and looked for his reflection but had none. Jeremy was gleaming with the biggest smile. He'd dissappeared into thin air.
When he got home there was a note on the kitchen table from Mom saying she and his father had gone out to Joe's and would probably be out late, that there was a microwaveable dinner in the freezer and to get to bed early. Jeremy was used to this kind of behavior from his parent's by now, for years they'd barely had a single meaningful conversation about anything, not even about his day or how he was doing in school. Jeremy heated up his meatloaf dinner with corn and mashed potato's and sat down in front of the tv. Feeling hopelessly bored Jeremy then remembered the rock he'd found earlier in the day walking home from school so with excited enthusiasm he ran to his bag to get it out. The rock in his bag had a somewhat phosphorescent glow emanating from it now, he didn't remember it having this sheen during the afternoon, maybe it glows in the dark he thought? Curiously Jeremy pulled out the rock from the pocket and held it up to the tv light. Vaguely the rock began to change luminosity and loose its glow, turning more solid like he found it in the day. Jeremy held the rock closely to his chest now and walked toward his bedroom where it was completely dark. He walked into his closet where no light was sure to enter. Holding the rock out in view now Jeremy again noticed it's vibrant luminosity and his hands warming like before. This wasn't a painful or frightful warming but something like a warm shower on a cool morning, rejuvenating, desirable. Jeremy was amazed at the strangeness of this rock for he had never seen anything like it before. After a while he began to feel slightly different than ever. Like he was getting lighter or losing weight. The translucency he had noticed before in his hands were now moving all throughout his arms and chest and he wasn't afraid but welcomed it, he was feeling better than he'd ever felt in his life. Eventually, still holding the rock Jeremy turned completely invisible. To make sure it wasn't just the darkness of the closet that didn't allow him to see himself he walked outside his room and into the living room where the tv was and to his amazement he wasn't there, his body was entirely dissappeared. He held up his arm to the window where a little moonlight shone through and there was no arm. He looked down at where his feet should be but there were no feet. He couldn't believe it. He walked into his parent's room where the only mirror in the house was and looked for his reflection but had none. Jeremy was gleaming with the biggest smile. He'd dissappeared into thin air.
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