Well, I worked as a b-girl right up until the start of the boar war when I was made adjutant general.

Charles Bukowski had his gf (my roommate/landlady) kick me out of the room I was renting and I had to move back in to my mother's house.

Oh beautiful things. . .sorry.

I dunno. Eat the strawberry. Eat more than one--they're small and good for you.

beautiful things. OK.

In the future days, which we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms.

The first is freedom of speech and expression -- everywhere in the world.

The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way -- everywhere in the world.

The third is freedom from want -- which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants -- everywhere in the world.

The fourth is freedom from fear -- which, translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor-- anywhere in the world.

That is no vision of a distant millennium. It is a definite basis for a kind of world attainable in our own time and generation.

I'm eating my first creamsicle in twenty years right this minute.

~

Back step.
Triple step.
Triple step.

~

I kept a blueberry bagel on the console in my car for about five years. Yes, the same bagel. It was essentially petrified, and I suspect had grown completely devoid of any organic qualitites it once had. The bagel had a story (too long a one for this format), which was about friendship, loyalty and survival.

And it was a great conversation starter whenever I gave someone new a lift.

~

I've played the great cities for princes and kings,
For the rubes and the millhands in Pittsburgh and Queens;
Seventeen years with this outfit's a long time.
But tomorrow, I'll polish that Remington rifle,
Leap into the ring, and I'll curtsey and smile,
And run through my shots once again for the crowd,
'Cause it's showtime.

~

A suicide poem that might cheer you:

Owen Fish Park

I press my palm against the skin
of a pond. It springs
back, like sponge cake.

There's a murky, moldy smell.

I lie in the grass and pull
the pond over me
like a blanket.

Water bugs row overhead.

It's cold and dark. Weightless.
The canon behind home plate
blooms in my ears.

I take a breath.

LT, I'm in need of some soothing myself. I'm having a hard time thinking about beautiful things right now.

Let's buy a houseboat and live in it and travel around getting in adventures. Houseboat adventures. We will also have a pet pterodactyl and some acrobats to amuse us.

Pips, that is beautiful in a dark, depressing sort of way that I can totally relate to.

... and. LT - yes, you must keep on, if only because not to do so would be unthinkable.

Charles Bukowski had his gf (my roommate/landlady) kick me out of the room I was renting and I had to move back in to my mother's house.

NOOOOO!! Really??? Did you meet him??

I used to date a guy who had previously lived in an apartment building on Capitol Hill downstairs from where the Sugarcubes were living at the time, and one time Bjork saw his cat outside and was harrassing it.

I have summoned forth all my prodigious artistic powers and I have drawn you a flower LT.
≡ Click to see image ≡

If you start on Loves me not, you end on Loves me.

(and thanks, dg... much appreciated)

As I was driving home along an empty highway from the job I love to my home, I saw a great blue heron fly overhead with a wriggling fish in its mouth.

Also, I helped a crazy old lady sell a Montblanc pen on Ebay for $700 just in time for her to pay her property taxes.

≡ Click to see image ≡

This little bird accosted me near sunset on April 26, 2002. I was wandering around on the west side greenway, completely at loose ends, taking some photos in a desultory fashion. He was a black grackle, with a clever yellow eye, and he bounced onto a railing near me, just out of arm's reach, and hopped around a couple times, eyeing me to make sure he had my attention.

Then he fluttered around in the most ostentatious way, landing on that piling. He gave me one more look - "Take a picture of THIS, why don't you," and turned profile to pose against the setting sun. He waited precisely until he heard me click the shutter button, then flew away right over my head.

His point, which I hope never to forget, seemed to be only that: there is always more going on than whatever is occupying the center of my little head.

There, that's some pretty lame emo shit, don't you think?