have you ever...

have you ever
felt a thunder
that splits apart
your brain

have you ever
seen a lightning
that strikes
across the rain

have you ever
lived a dream
that blooms
just like desire

have you ever
known a wind
that feels
just like a fire

The other day I apologized to my washing machine

I put a dirty shirt in to soak for a bit and, when I thought I heard the water stop filling, I opened the lid to mush the shirt down fully into it. Finding the water actually stll filling, I said "I'm sorry" and closed the lid.

But here's the thing: didn't just say sorry, I said it as if I was embarrassed, as if I had walked in on...let's face it...my washer still in a state of undress when I thought it (she) had already left the shower....and I closed the lid quickly.

It was like: Oh, my stars. I'm sorry. (And quickly close lid).

I wouldn't be at all surprised if I was blushing.

To me, at least, appliances are already alive.

I'm a good neighbor...

I refuse to acknowledge the existence of those around me as muc as they refuse to ackowledge mne.

So, if I move into yours, fell sfae in the knowledge I will completely ignore you...I only hope you return the favor.

Stewart's Coat (words by Rickie Lee Jones)

Hold me love, I can't sleep again
Will I have to kiss your nose?
I wanna lay here next to him, love
I remember walking in the rain
Rain was falling on my hands
I don't wanna live through that again, no

Outside the heart it gets dark now
And I was walking in the park now
Children singing songs
That will now make all our dreams come true

I'm in love with you

I know it takes is love
Love is a healing thing
When you give everything
You're loving the world
The world gives you love to hold onto
Remembering, we seldom remember love

In September, when the rain comes, and the wind blows,
I will see you walking in that coat,
And if you let me, I will keep you here inside the stars,
I will love the sound of my sheets
For you have moved beneath them

Just give me many chances
I'll see you through it all
Just give me time to learn to crawl

Just give me time to learn to crawl

Seasons - Elton John (Words by Bernie Taupin)

For our world, the circle turns again
Throughout the year we've seen the seasons change
It's meant a lot to me to start anew
The winter's cold but I'm so warm with you

Out there there's not a sound to be heard
And the seasons seem to sleep upon their words
As the waters freeze up with the summer's end
It's funny how young lovers start as friends

Yes, it's funny how young lovers start as friends

A Dream Goes On Forever (words by Todd Rundgren)

A million old soldiers will fade away
But a dream goes on forever
I'm left standing here, I've got nothing to say
All is silent within my dream

A thousand true loves will live and die
But a dream lives on forever
The days and the years will go streaking by
But the time has stopped in my dream

We all have our everyday hopes and fears
And you'll find no exception in me
But that doesn't get me through a sea of tears
Over life's biggest tragedy

You're so long ago and so far away
But my dream lives on forever
I guess I believe that I'll see you one day
For without it there is no dream

Yes, you're so far away and so long ago
But my dream lives on forever
And how much I loved you you'll never know
'Til you join me within my dream

Operator (words by Jim Croce)

Operator, could you help me place this call?
See, the number on the matchbook is old and faded.
She's living in L. A. with my best old ex-friend Ray,
A guy she said she knew well and sometimes hated.

Operator, could you help me place this call?
I can't read the number that you just gave me.
There's something in my eyes, you know it happens every time
I think about a love that I thought would save me.

Isn't that the way they say it goes?
Well, let's forget all that and give me the number if you can find it,
So I can call just to tell 'em I'm fine and to show I've overcome the blow,
I've learned to take it well, I only wish my words could just convince myself
That it just wasn't real, but that's not the way it feels.

Operator, let's forget about this call
There's no one there I really wanted to talk to.
Thank you for your time, you've been so much more than kind
You can keep the dime.

These Days (words by Jackson Browne)

I've been out walking
I don't do that much talking these days
These days--

These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
And all the times I had the chance to

And I had a lover
I don’t think I’ll risk another these days
These days--

Now if I seem to be afraid
To live the life I have made in song
Well it's just that I've been losing for so long

I'll keep on moving
Things are bound to be improving these days
One of these days--

These days I sit on corner stones
And count the time in quarter tones to ten
Please don't confront me with my failures

I had not forgotten them

At Movies: Large Soda Cup - Medium Soda Aount

So I'm at the movies and order a large drink that I'm paying off in installments and I notice how much of the cup is NOT filled with soda. This happens a lot, life is life, but I always feel like saying:

I'm sure this is strictly my fault. I'm taking classes to improve my communication skills, but I meant I wanted a large drink in a large drink cup, not a medium drink in the large cup.

Anyone else feel like doing that. No? Just me? Well I was kidding. So there.

HBO Chicago Cubs Special - Am I The Perv?

Maybe my mind’s in the gutter but….

I was watching an HBO documentary about The Chicago Cubs long history of, well, blowing it. They spoke with players, sports personalities, fans, etc.

They ESPECIALLY spoke about their 1969 season when they seemed to have the National League title sewn up, but blew it and the Mets won.

So, anyway, now it’s for you to decide, me or him.

They spoke with this one fan who present day went to some baseball camp with his childhood heroes and, when speaking of it, said:

"It was great, they showed me pointers on batting, how to field grounders…and we talked 69."

My mind at this point was no longer on the Cubs. But is that my fault? Especially since it wasn’t written and therefore no apostrophe was seen before the 69 like so: ‘69?

I really think the man should have qualified with the 69 season or 1969 or even we spoke about 69 in the baseball way—Wait, that one wouldn’t work as people use baseball as a metaphor for “it”.

So, me or him?

An Inchworm Attempts To Cross A Road

I was taking a walk the other day when I came upon an inchworm attempting to cross the road. His head would look left and after a moment would right. And then he’d do it again. (He may have been a she. I’m not an expert on inchworm sex parts. But as I am a He, that’s how my mind thinks. Reference post about why men who refer to god as she are just trying to get laid.)

So one-way he turns, then the other. I could almost hear the violin they use in cartoons. Up it goes when turning left….and down it goes when turning right.

And the suddenly, with a NOW!!! It starts wiggling its way across the road. About 6 inches out, it would scream out CAR! CAR! CAR! and back its way to the side again, as a car passed. And then he’d be right back at it. Look left, look right, the violin following up and down, then scream NOW, wiggle his way about six inches, shout CAR! CAR! CAR! and back his way to the side again.

I really admired the little guy. Roads are what, roughly 12 feet or so across? This is quite a move. And considering his mile-per-hour ratio and the type of traffic this road had, the odds of him ever moving beyond 6 inches was slim to none…and yet still he tried.

As I watched him, it was my hope this wasn’t just a geographical move to leave his problems behind here and wished I could have given him a copy of Wherever You Go, There You Are! It wouldn’t have mattered I realized. Everyone has to find this out on his or her own.

After a half-hour, it was clear he wasn’t going to make it across, so I stepped on it to put him out of his misery.

Relax PETA MEMBERS, I didn’t step on him. He threw himself under my shoe shouting ‘Vive La Revolution”…which really makes no sense, but since this little fella did in general speak French and I’m way-over-tired, I figure why not.

It is all true about him looking left and right, wiggling out, then backing up when a car came. It pretty neat and wild…and after the half-hour, he simply gave up and headed off. Who knows? As I write this, he could be in Hollywood getting some headshots done.

BY THE WAY: Inchworm? It’s not an inch. I measured. Does NO ONE take pride in their job anymore? I’ve come to accept vague, close enoughs from weatherman, but I draw the line here…and the line I draw IS an inch exactly.

Great Movie Moment - Independence Day

Independence Day – Knowing when to fold ‘em

Okay, so, I’m sure a few of you have heard of the little movie Independence Day starring this small time actor Will Smith….and that’s funny because it’s actually a huge movie with one of the world’s biggest stars, Will Smith.

The wit and wisdom of me.

So, Randy Quaid plays a former Air Force pilot who was in Vietnam turned alcoholic crop duster who keeps insisting he was captured by aliens. And people of course roll their eyes.

So, now, it’s late in the movie, 15 mile long and wide space ships have planted themselves above strategic places all over the world and blown many parts of it to kingdom come through beams from the ships themselves or from small fighter saucers that exit the bigger ships and take on Earthling pilots in dogfights.

So, we’re heading into the showdown. They’ve found a weakness but need pilots. Randy Quaid says he’ll be one of them, as he was one in Vietnam and also has a special knowledge of aliens as he was captured by them once.

The response:

They STILL rolls their eyes.

If people aren’t going to believe you after the world’s been decimated by ALIENS, people who are now asking you to volunteer to fight ALIENS, it’s time to hang up the story because THEY NEVER WILL.

(As the humor is broad and the makers known only for action and broad humor, I really don't believe their joke went any further than the eye roll...but I could be wrong.)

Private Public Cpnversations

So I'm riding the commuter train to Boston...

I should start by stating I'm sure I am one of the people who have private public conversations, so I'm not saying 'they' as in not me too. In fact since I like to write, I listen in hoping for nice little tidbits I can claim I wrote.

But I suppose listening in's the name of the game today. We're so bored with the boring conversations we have, we want to hear the boring conversations other people have.

As Pete Townshend sang in a lyric to the song Naked Eye: The world begins behind your neighbor’s wall.

Which leads me back to....

I'm riding the commuter train into Boston the other day and this woman is talking with her friends LOUDLY, not in a manner that would require me or anyone in the whole compartment to listen in...or any other compartment...or various train stops, quickly passing town centers, huge airplanes taking off from Logan...

Anyway, she says after her friend brings up a woman named Lisa: (this is a virtual quote)

Oh, my god. Lisa is a CRONIC liar. I mean it, not just liar, but chronic. She will say anything that will help her get ahead. Don't get me wrong. She's a great person and one of my good friends...

(Now how could I get you wrong?)

Her friend who's speaking fairly quietly as the person she's needs to hear is only two feet away and therefore, try as I might, I could only pick up a bit of what she said. The jist being:

Lisa has been moved into her department at work.

The loud woman bursts in:

Watch out for her. I'm telling you, she'll pretend to be your best friend just so she can stab you in the back when the right time comes. But, that said, she really is a good person.

(How on earth from your description could you possibly think I would get the impression Lisa is anything but a good person?)

Another time, when I was working at a movie cinema (a horrible one, one no one should ever work for. I won't tell you their name as that would be indiscrete. AMC. AMC Theaters)

A quick by the way: I understand people in a long line can receive cell phone calls when they reach the front. I mean, what are you gonna do? Oh, wait, I know. CALL THEM BACK. Or step out of line when I inform you as soon as you are ready I will take you immediately...and the thing is: IT'S NEVER ANYTHING IMPORTANT.

Here's the real kicker: When someone in a long line waits til they're at the front to MAKE A CALL.

Anyway, my quick by the way is over:

So, one of these people who MAKES a call when they reach the front speaks with a friend. I only hear his side of course.

Oh, jeez. Bob got caught cheating. With Linda? Linda?!! You're sure. Why her? She's not even that good looking.

(As if there's some "get out of cheating" card if someone is good looking. As if it would make it all okay, but now the guy's stuck his foot in it.)

Then he moves on:
No, not Richie. And they're sure? Testicular cancer.
(then he covers the phone and says to me)
That reminds me, I'll have some Bon Bons.

Okay, the Bon Bon thing didn't happen, but everything else did.

I fear we are finding ourselves ever closer to a version of 'if a tree falls in the woods and no one's there to hear it, does it make a sound?' to...

If a life is not seen or heard, is it lived?

Imagine A Man - The Who (words by Pete Townshend)

Imagine a man
Not a child of any revolt
But a plain man tied up in life

Imagine the sand
Running out as he struts
Parading and fading, ignoring his wife

Imagine a road
So long looking backwards
You can't see where it really began

Imagine a load
So large and so smooth
That against it a man is an ant

Imagine events
That occur everyday
Like a shooting or raping or a simple act of deceit
Imagine a fence
Around you as high as prevention
Casting shadows, you can't see your feet

Imagine a girl
You long for and have
And the body of chalky perfection and truth

Imagine a past
Where you wish you had lived
Full of heroes and villains and fools

Imagine a man
Not a child of any revolt
But a man of today feeling new

Imagine a soul
So old it is broken
And you will know your invention is you

And you will see the end
Yes, you will see the end

A True New England Snowfall

I had been missing the true New England snowfalls of my youth, and sifting pictures bears out that nostalgia had not made them larger than life (or how way-over-protective parents made you dress.) So much about them is missing these days. What starts out as snow now quickly turns to slush and from slush to a depressing day. Last winter, however, this, if just one time, was corrected, and I was blessed with a true New England snowfall once again.

I ran out, a little kid, and gazed in wonder at the pure snow-blanketed roads and yards, as yet untouched by car exhaust. I stood mesmerized by the icicles hanging off what can only be described as trees of angel-wings. I smiled up at the sky as cotton ball flakes floated down seemingly from Heaven itself, even catching at few on my tongue. It was as if I were inside a snow-shaker-Christmas-globe. The hush, though, the hush is what finally caught me. The only one out, there was a hush on the street, a hush you could seemingly hear if you listened for it. I felt like the only person alive and, at that moment, connected to existence itself.

Then in the distance, a small speck appeared as if birthing from the snow itself. As it drew nearer and grew larger, I saw it was John, the mailman, all bundled up. This was perfect, I thought. If there were one person I’d want to share this intimate moment with, it would be John. Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow may keep him from delivering the mail, but cancer would not keep him from life. He had beaten the odds, baffled his doctors, and, not only lived, but flourished. He knew the beauty of every breath, the astonishing feeling of being connected to existence, the magic of essentially knowing there was indeed something greater than us.

And so, as he approached, winter coat zipped to the top, hood pulled forward covering his face from the elements, I smiled. Yes, I smiled and said, my voice resonating with the excitement of a small child, “Amazing, isn’t it?”

John then immediately pulled back his hood, the snow clinging to his beard and mustache making him resemble Santa Claus, looked me over a moment or two, my eagerness for his words almost unbearable, and said finally, “Fuck you,” and with that, he pulled his hood forward and continued on.

Yes, there really is nothing like a true New England snowfall.

Walk On - U2 (words by Bono)

(Since I was listening to the CD...)

And love is not the easy thing
The only baggage you can bring...
And love is not the easy thing...
The only baggage you can bring
Is all that you can't leave behind

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
And if your glass heart should crack
And for a second you turn back
Oh no, be strong

Walk on, walk on
What you got, they can't steal it
No they can't even feel it
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight...

You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been
A place that has to be believed to be seen
You could have flown away
A singing bird in an open cage
Who will only fly, only fly for freedom

Walk on, walk on
What you got they can't deny it
Can't sell it or buy it
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on

Home...hard to know what it is if you never had one
Home...I can't say where it is but I know I'm going home
That's where the heart isI know it aches
How your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much

Walk on, walk on
Leave it behind
You've got to leave it behind

All that you fashion
All that you make
All that you build
All that you break
All that you measure
All that you steal
All this you can leave behind

All that you reason
All that you sense
All that you speak
All you dress up
All that you scheme...

Autmn's Coloring Book

kites of color, the leaves reminisce
as they twist their final journey to the ground
signaling again another season over
and a new one too soon come around

for wasn’t it just yesterday
when I was shedding my winter skin
and striking a match to the damp spring sky
to let the summertime begin

but the only fires remaining now
are these rainbows falling from the trees
isn’t it funny how a beginning
in the end always becomes a tease

A Drizzly Hot-Air Ballon Race

the city crawled
through the sky,
a cover of clouds
masking her trip
to the moon.
sullen-faced balloons
hung their deflated heads,
mental pinholes
lassooing
their feet
to the lawn,
too strong
the fear their
blindfolded eyes
would conjure
knife-edged mountains
from the mist.
resisting the temptation
to flee
a few
remaining birds
sought comfort
in the trees
certain
of the tears
that would come
but then heaven
opened her eyes
allowing the
lightning strands
of her hair
to rain
on the earth
as the sun

The Black Has Finally Splintered...

the black has finally
splintered sun into its moonlight
the Endless Saint finally leaving
the child night
and giving last rites to the elder
now touching his hands
to the shoulders of the morn
caressing her, holding her infancy
feeding her hopes and dreams
and coaxing her to take
even a step
and to become the day

You Walk The Streets Doused In Anger...

You walk the streets
Doused in anger
Inflamed by passions
Of desires past

You recall in your heart
Things that didn’t matter
And realize all that matters
Is everything that doesn’t last

So you regret yourself
Pull your yearbook off the shelf
Look at pictures that never were
Wonder what would have happened
If they ever did occur

You dream of soft forests
Lost in your pillow
Nuzzled in the world
That lies inside your bed

Distorted fictions
Of long gone people
And the promises of feeling them
You still keep in your head

And so you find yourself
Hovering over the candles
Your relatives
Wishing you on

As you close your eyes
Tenderly looking at your wife
And wish for the girl you once knew
But who is forever gone in your life

spill

spill, spill
let the river run
spill, spill
drink down the sun

spill, spill
spit your tears out as dreams
spill, spill
don’t question what it means

spill, spill
leave your body in your bed
spill, spill
lock your thoughts up in its head

spill, spill
split the seems of this world apart
yes, spill, spill
unlid the recesses of your heart

- and let your emotions
scatter over fields
as blooming flowers

i am fire

i am fire
burning life
i crave existence
my lonely wife

i am salvation
comfort when you're alone
when you're world weary
i dry your tired bones

i am windswept
my fingers ignite the ink of night
i inspire story
til my back is broke by the storms of morning light

yes, i am fire
you all know me by my name
but inside i am color
is there anyone who'll dare

walk through my flame?

Like Smoke From A Ring...

on and on
and so it goes
new doors open
while old ones close

defeated suns set
hopeful ones rise
restless trains depart
lonesome ones arrive

did I taste it or did I waste it
in the end, did I erase it
to spare me the sting
of a beautiful bird in the distance
on her wing

and through the years it's remained unclear
why certain things always disappear

like smoke from a ring

left or right
or up or down
frozen indecision
leaves you spinning around

the whole world's fought
but no one's learned
my teachers taught me
about these moments that we burned

did I taste it or did I too waste it
in the end, did I erase it
to spare me the sting
of marching to a song
no one appears to want to sing

and through the years it's remained unclear
why certain things always disappear

like smoke from a ring

in the end, I think I erased it
to spare me the sting
of realizing certain things
will always disappear

like smoke from a ring

The Wind Is A Thief...

The wind is a thief
Stealing every word
Longing for deliverance
Only to remain unheard

The mind is much, much worse, though
Chaining its cynicism to the heart
Silencing even a simple syllable
That yearns to tear the wall apart

But then –
Who would we be without our walls?

Everybody Just Wants A Chance To Love

Keep your fancy clothes
And your expensive cars
Keep your red carpet treatment
For those you proclaim stars

Keep your magazine covers
And your computer colored suns
You can keep your millions feigning
I only need one

You can keep your glitter
Keep your gossip page
Keep your newest sensation
And your latest rage

Keep your dancing Santas
And Christmas toys ‘fore Halloween
Keep your anachronisms
And your anti-ageing creams

Keep your gigantic cars
With their washing machines
Keep your product placements
Peddled as movies on multiplex screens

Keep the smiling faces
Telling us who we should be
Soon sexy will be the one
Who’s never been seen on tv

You can keep your store bought eyes
And your plastic body parts
Keep all other nipping and tucking
I’m only searching for a heart

Everybody just wants a chance to love

even the rose...

even the rose
beautiful in birth
elegant in death
perfect of face
and fragrance
longs to become
more than itself
in the form of
a smile
as it’s passed
from one person
to another

last night I dreamt...

last night
I dreamt
of another
world
where no one
would feel
the need
to dream
of another
world

Dogfight (1991)

Dogfight - Directed by: Nancy Savoca Written by: Bob Comfort

In San Francisco on the night of November 21, 1963 – less than 24 hours before John Kennedy is killed – the four “bees”, marines who became friends due to their last names beginning with “B”, are ready to raise hell and attend one last “Dogfight”, a competition in which the marine who brings the “ugliest” girl wins a pool. It also happens to be a night that changes the life of one “B”, Corporal Birdlace (River Phoenix).

Meeting shy, plain-looking Rose (Lily Taylor) a waitress at a local café who longs to be a folk singer, Birdlace convinces her escort him to the Dogfight. When later, she discovers the truth o the party, shy Rose quickly morphs into feisty Rose, letting Birdlace have it, and not just verbally. She hauls back and punches him, leaving a shiner.

Returning to the café, Birdlace offers a sincere apology and asks if she’ll allow him to buy her dinner. Agreeing with a warning that if this is part of the Dogfight, she’ll kill him (I love her feistiness), they are off onto a path neither saw coming. They spend the night talking (he tells her he’s shipping out to Okinawa but hoping at some point go to this “little country called Vietnam” as an advisor), laughing, arguing over his constant need to swear and the power of song vs. the power of guns, and, come morning, realizing how much they truly like each other, how fully they compliment one another.

As far as the ending…I had a writing teacher who said there are infinite “an” endings to a film – this is an ending, that is an ending - and some, maybe many, maybe most are good to great, but there is only one “the” ending. Only one rightful and true end that naturally follows everything that preceded it. This is one of the few movies that has “the” ending.

A shiny, not-to-be-missed gem.

When I Look At The World - U2 (words by Bono & The Edge

When you look at the world
What is it that you see?
People find all kinds of things
That bring them to their knees

I see an expression
So clear and so true
That it changes the atmosphere
When you walk into the room

So I try to be like you
Try to feel it like you do
But without you it's no use
I can't see what you see

When I look at the world

When the night is someone elses
And you're trying to get some sleep
When your thoughts are too expensive
To ever want to keep

When there's all kinds of chaos
And everyone is walking lame
You don't even blink now, do you
Or even look away

So I try to be like you
Try to feel it like you do
But without you it's no use
I can't see what you see

When I look at the world

I can't wait any longer
I can't wait till I'm stronger
Can't wait any longer
To see what you see

When I look at the world

I'm in the waiting room
Can't see for the smoke
I think of you and your holy book
While the rest of us choke

Tell me, tell me, what do you see?
Tell me, tell me, what's wrong with me

Men & Their Penises

It’s been said men spend all their time thinking about their penises, and, if they were given an extra moment a day, they’d spend that thinking about their penises, too. Well, you are looking at an aberration (well, looking in the 21st century way – through words written on the Internet). I do not spend all my time thinking about my penis, not even 1/6 of a nanosecond.

Nope, I spend all my time NOT thinking about my penis. I even record in journals just how often I don’t think about my penis.

For instance, a few entries from yesterday:

6:00:00am - Not thinking about my penis
6:00:30am - Still not thinking about my penis
6:01:00am - Still not thinking about my penis
601:30am – Still not thinking about my penis

And on and on it goes.

I have dozens upon dozens upon dozens of boxes filled with these journals going back years that I flip through every night just so I can reflect on just how often I don’t think about my penis, just like I’m not thinking about my penis now.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fully describe how freeing it is to spend all your time not thinking about your penis, instead of spending all of it thinking about your penis.

But, to maybe give an indication:

If I were given an extra moment a day, I'd spend that not thinking about my penis, too.

Tip Bowls At Dunkin' Donuts

So, we all know now that in fast food places like Dunkin' Donuts, the customer is expected to add to the tip jar when a person pours you coffee so the owners don't have to pay the salary they deserve. And yes, for those of you out there saying 'this is a famous scene from 'Resevoir Dogs'', I know the scene.

My point isn't the tipping. I don't agree but I'm not going to have the workers suffer because of owners’ decisions.

So, I tip. What I want in return for my tip, however, is for them to SEE me tip. It seems most times they're moving on to a new customer or other pressing business and they DON'T SEE me tip. So, now, at the end of the night since all the tips mingle, it could be anyone's tip in the tip bowl.

I kind of want to pretend to have a coughing fit and when they come over, display my tip like a model showing a car, or rip just the tiniest, tiniest portion of a dollar bill and go "oh, darn, will you take this DOLLAR tip that I'm giving you even though it has a eentsy, weensty tear you'd need a magnifying glass to see? Would you take this, now knowing I’m the one who gave this to you.

Or maybe “accidentally” swipe the tip bowl off the counter and, down on my knees, tally the tips spread across the sticky, gucky floor OUT LOUD, keeping at bay employees who keep insisting they’ll take care of it.

ME: $3.05, $3.10 ---
THEM: (kindly touching my shoulder) Sir, please…
ME: $3.15, $3.20—
THEM: (again kindly touching my shoulder) Sir, please…
ME: Touch me again, you’ll be pulling back a bloody stump….$3.16…17…18…19.

Then as I put the money back in the bowl and place the bowl on the counter, I can say:

ME: $3.19. There’s $3.19 in tips in there, and the 65 cents I’M now adding makes it $3.84.

Of course, my tip would have to placed in by one of the police officers escorting me out of the place in handcuffs who kindly stuck his hand in my pocket and pulled it out.

UPDATE: The employees sent me a thank you note in jail…and that’s all I wanted.

One Step Separates A Hero From A Jerk

Okay, so, the other day I'm waiting for some movie that I paid to see that I completely forgot by the time I got to the car - remember when you wouldn't forget a movie until you got home or actually remembered it and spoke about it days later? Forgive me, I was waxing nostalgic.

So, I’m waiting for my movie and, to kill time til it starts, I look at some big, cardboard cutout of a movie to come (that smells of the desperation of marketing executives worried their bosses will find out most of their jobs are useless).

So, one minute I’m standing there with diet coke staring at the cutout, and the next minute, I’m standing there with my diet coke COVER, staring at the cardboard cutout.

As I have headphones on, listening to music, I don’t hear the cup fall and, therefore, don’t realize til I absently take a sip from my straw and notice, not only is air just coming through but I can see both sides of the straw.

Looking down, I see this huge puddle of diet coke and ice and cup and it's spreading. So, I think back to how my mother raised me, say screw that...and I walk away.

BUT, when I'm just a couple feet away, an employee with a mop and bucket shows up and tells me very sincerely not to worry. He'll clean it up. And, thinking quick, I say, Oh, thank god. I was just off to find help. I was afraid someone might slip on it.

He thanks me, telling me that most people just walk away without thought to the fact other people might get hurt. Well, those people are called jerks, I reply.

I love these moments in life. He approaches a step later, I'm clearly one of the jerks I'm speaking of (which I am) but he doesn't and so I'm a hero.

It was then I realized just one step separates a hero from a jerk.

A moment later, I was off to get the free refill I was offered for being so considerate of others…which I gladly accepted.

What’s a hero to do?

I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You (Tom Waits)

Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you
'Cause falling in love just makes me blue,
Well the music plays and you display your heart for me to see,
I had a beer and now I hear you calling out for me
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

Well the room is crowded, people everywhere
And I wonder, should I offer you a chair?
Well if you sit down with this old clown, take that frown and break it,
Before the evening's gone away, I think that we could make it,
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

Well the night does funny things inside a man
These old tom-cat feelings you don't understand,
Well I turn around to look at you, you light a cigarette,
I wish I had the guts to bum one, but we've never met,
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

I can see that you are lonesome just like me,
and it being late,you'd like some some company,
Well I turn around to look at you, and you look back at me,
The guy you're with has up and split, the chair next to you's free,
And I hope that you don't fall in love with me.

Now it's closing time, the music's fading out
Last call for drinks, I'll have another stout.
Well I turn around to look at you, you're nowhere to be found,
I search the place for your lost face, guess I'll have another round

And I think that I just fell in love with you.

Terrapin Station - The Grateful Dead (Robert Hunter - words)

Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done.
While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow,
Till things we've never seen will seem familiar.

Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in Carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but lost at love.

While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lion's den.

Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster.

The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him.
That's how it stands today. You decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no choice. Soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to master.

Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will return, but he cannot be bought or sold.

Inspiration, move me brightly. Light the song with sense and color;
Hold away despair, more than this I will not ask.
Faced with mysteries dark and vast, statements just seem vain at last.
Some rise, some fall, some climb, to get to Terrapin.

Counting stars by candlelight, all are dim but one is bright;
The spiral light of Venus, rising first and shining best,
On, from the northwest corner, of a brand new crescent moon,
While crickets and cicadas sing, a rare and different tune,
Terrapin Station.

In the shadow of the moon, Terrapin Station.
And I know we'll get there soon, Terrapin Station.
I can't figure out, Terrapin, if it's the end or beginning, Terrapin,
But the train's put it's brakes on, Terrapin,
And the whistle is screaming, TERRAPIN.

While you were gone, these spaces filled with darkness.
The obvious was hidden. With nothing to believe in,
Sullen wings of fortune beat like rain.
You're back in Terrapin for good or ill again

...for good or ill again.

Ever Have One Of Those Days...

...a lifetime in a row…or at least it feels that way?

Like this morning, I’m up really early preparing for the first presentation I have to give. I’m the behind-the-scenes guy, the one who doesn’t wear a suit or carry a briefcase.

So, while I’m preparing for my presentation, I also go out and purchase a suit – a nice suit, not the someone-just-died-so-any-suit-will-do-because they’re-focused-on-the-dead-person-and-not-what-you’re-wearing suit. I mean a real suit. (Read: expensive). And I have to buy a briefcase, my very first one. Again, very expensive.

Finally, it’s time and off I go, and, as soon as I step outside - I’m sure you guessed it as the story’s an old one - an enormous, big-enough-to-fit-a-person-bigger-than-myself-inside-it saber-toothed tiger swallows me whole and, since I just gave up smoking, I don’t have a lighter, so I can’t see a thing.

A realization quickly hit: Smoking has its good points.

Suddenly I hear an UNGODLY ROAR and feel us – let’s face it, the saber-toothed tiger and I are in it together now for good or bad – being picked up and have the sensation of the both of us being swallowed whole again by something clearly big enough to accomplish this. And then this haunting, echoing, rhythmic CLOMP…CLOMP, the sound of CRUNCHING METAL, SCREAMS of people running. And then…

A THUNDEROUS EXPLOSION and then another and then another and then…the sensation of falling. And then the saber-toothed tiger and I are spit up and I’m spit out of the saber-toothed tiger.

Assessing the situation, the military tanks (the source of the explosions), the beyond-colossal Tyrannosaurus Rex (that swallowed the saber-toothed tiger and me…and was felled my the artillery shells), and I get pissed. And I mean ROYALLY PISSED.

My new suit is sopping wet with globs of saber-tooth intestinal juice, as is my briefcase, so I have to buy new ones and NOW.

So, I enter a clothing store. Or I should say, attempt to enter a clothing store, when a clerk stops me and informs me the store has strict policies regarding animals not being allowed in the store. I look down and, sure enough, the saber-toothed tiger, now in rigormortis, had somehow wrapped its paws around one of my legs and I had been carrying this mammoth animal’s dead weight around without even noticing.

The leg training is definitely paying off.

So, I rid myself of the tiger, buy yet another expensive, new suit and expensive, new briefcase, transfer what I need for the presentation from the old one (kudos to the makers as my material was completely dry, not one goop of intestinal juice) to the new one and am off.

And when I arrive with half-a-nanosecond to spare, I not only find a tear in my new suit sleeve, but, for the life of me, I cannot remember the combination of the new briefcase.

And it’s only 9:30am!!!

This is the day I mean when I say ‘one of those days a lifetime in a row.’

WRITER’S ADMITTANCE: Not all in this story is true. The clothing store, while not allowing most animals, does have one caveat:

Gargantuan, dead saber-toothed tigers that have been swallowed whole by even more gargantuan T-Rexes, spit out after the T-Rex is felled by military artillery and wrap their rigormortised-paws around a human leg are allowed.

…but only paying customers can use the bathrooms.

Fright Night (1985)

FRIGHT NIGHT written and driected by: Tom Holland

“I just destroyed your car, Charlie.” These words spoken by Jerry Dandridge (Chris Sarandon), Charley’s new neighbor/vampire are the least of Charley’s worries when, like any precocious, curious teen in a horror movie, he continues to meddle in the vampire’s business. (My motto regarding vampires: Live And Let Live…or die as the case may be…as long as it’s not me).

So, what does Charley do? Bring his mother, friends, and police in whom – shock of shocks – don’t believe him. When that fails, he brings in the broke, recently fired host of a midnight ghoul show “Fright Night,” Peter “The Great Vampire Killer” Vincent (Roddy McDowell who believes most whole-heartedly in vampires…until Charley says he has one living across the street.

Finally agreeing to help for money Charley’s friends give him and to get Charley off his back, he discovers Dandridge actually is a vampire when he doesn’t cast a reflection in a mirror. This all leads to an old-fashioned showdown, Dandridge opening the proceedings with: Welcome to Fright Night…for real!

Made with tender care that reflects the writer/director’s love of old B-Vampire movies, ‘Fright Night’ has particularly excellent special effects. I say “particularly” because these aren’t “look at what we can do even though they have nothing to do with the movie” effects. These are there only in service of the story.

My love of every aspect of this movie sincere, this piece really belongs to Chris Sarandon (so good – and young - in ‘A Dog Day Afternoon’). His I-can-only-love-the-night-life-I-got-to-boogie-plus-I-could-kill-you-easily-so-let’s-have-fun vampire is just that, fun to watch.

MASTER ACTING CLASS IN ONE SCENE: Roddy McDowell as Peter Vincent, in a Me or Him situation, must kill one of Charley’s friends whose been turned into a demon Hell dog by Dandridge. The empathy that plays not just across McDowell’s face but emanates from his deepest core as he helplessly watches him die, wanting to help but knowing he can’t as this is no longer that innocent boy is heart-wrenching. Everyone should see this, but actors especially, as they glean a lesson or realize how far they have to go and buckle down all the harder.

NICE TOUCH: Beginning by destroying the car, as a car is everything to a teen.

ONE THING ABOUT RODDY MCDOWELL that has nothing to do with the film. Elisabeth Taylor – I think it was her – told a story about how Roddy was the one all his friends would gravitate to with problems as he was always there, happy to lend an ear for as long as the person needed to talk, maybe offer some advise. Anyway, she said she called him up one day and prattled on, Roddy yet again lending a kind ear for however long she needed to talk.

A few days later, she learned his body was riddled with cancer. Not only did he not tell her to screw off, he didn’t even mention it…to anybody.

So, the world lost a great acting talent, but, more important, a tremendous human being.

Growing Up - Peter Gabriel

Just a one line snippet, another one of my favorites


My ghosts like to travel

- Peter Gabriel (words)

Chan Is Missing (1982)

Chan Is Missing (1982) – Directed by: Wayne Wang Written by: Isaac Cronin and Wayne Wang

The story is simple: Two San Francisco cab drivers decide to break out in their own business with a third person Chan who disappears on his way to hand off payment. Did Chan run off with the money? Did something happen to him?

The odyssey the two cab drivers set out on to investigate Chan’s whereabouts reveals the movie is really about investigating Chinatown and how it is, as one person correctly and succinctly states, about more than food. Their travels bring the cab drivers to speak with various people involved with Chinatown who discuss its complexities.

There are immigrants or those born and raised here whose ancestors hail from the north of China or the south, different political factions who can’t and never will find common ground, there are those who reject anything American and others who absorb themselves totally in American activities (called “going native), not knowing how to be or more specifically who to be?

That leads the men plagued by a much bigger question than ‘Where is Chan?’ Namely, Who is Chan? For the more people they talk to about Chan and the more and more varied the answers they’re given, make them wonder if they’re talking about just one man, let alone Chan. At least, the Chan he presented himself to be to them.

So, the last layer peeled, the story, in the end, is about: Identity.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER: a cliché young, educated Chinese-American lawyer who would be more than happy to whip out her laminated card stating she is a member of Club Grown Up, more than eager to show you all the books she read on “How To Be A Grown Up”…again questioning identity.

MY TWO FAVORITE SCENES: 1. The older and younger drivers disagree over whether identity is even an issue anymore and 2. A man uses the visual of an apple pie to discuss his belief on how to assimilate without losing your sense of self.

Peace Frog - The Doors

Just a one line snippet, one of my favorites:


Blood is the rose of mysterious union

- Jim Morrison words

Chimes Of Freedom - Bob Dylan

Far between sundown's finish an' midnight's broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An' for each an' ev'ry underdog soldier in the night
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

In the city's melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin' rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an' forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin' constantly at stake
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An' the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an' blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an' cheated by pursuit
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An' the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An' for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Starry-eyed an' laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an' we watched with one last look
Spellbound an' swallowed 'til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an' worse
An' for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

The Quiet One (In Memory Of George Harrison)

The quiet one has grown silent now
All his petals have fallen to the ground
The day has quickly turned to night
Now we'll no longer hear the sound
Of a lonely broom sweeping
Of a guitar gently weeping
Anymore

The spotlight cast you in two shadows
Still you found an inner light
To walk you through this weary world
As you prayed with all you might
For another sun to be coming
A long, cold, lonely winter to be running
Into spring

Within you, without you
You gave love, you gave love
the only way you knew how
Knowing the only true moment
we have is now

You found yourself in your garden
At peace with the flowers and the rain
Digging through dirt for a simple life
That would leave the yoke of fame
Far behind that locked door
For you bit straight to the apple core
And it was all too much

So the quiet one has grown silent now
But his voice will still echo like mystic waterfalls
The song he chose to sing to his sweet lord
Awaiting on his call
And he happily accepted when it came at last
For he knew all things must pass
He knew all things must pass away

All things must pass away

I Flipped Around The TV

i flipped around the t.v.
and looked up on the screen
i opened up magazines
and read the paper in between

i turned back into history
and imagined future times
and thought back into memories
i might have left behind

i stared down at the flowers
and up at the skies of blue
then gave up when i realized
there will never be anything

as beautiful as you

A Bottle Of Minutes Slipping Though Sand

A bottle of minutes slipping through sand
There’s so much in it if you understand
The morning bird rises living only to fly
As the moon creates its candle in tomorrow’s sunny sky

A bottle of wine chills on the table
The cork is screwed, pulled from the label
The glasses are filled, they spill the toast
They’re making the most of each other

A lifetime of thoughts asleep in my bed
A pocket of dreams I keep in my head
There’s little known facts of the stars and waves
And all the other passions in which we’re enslaved

A quiet street corner on a late rainy eve
A small empty bar where they forget to believe
Restless as a wind shackled in locks
Lonesome as a head trapped inside a box

Nighttime falls at the end of the day
A time when daydreams come into play
The pile of minutes has now reached its end
But we’ll tip it right over, let the sands run again

How Many Dreams Have We Conjured

how many dreams have we conjured
relaxing ‘neath a tree in the shade
cut into whispers and satellite pictures
waking to the rising moon again

how many stars have we wished on
fearing the frozen moment would fade
folded like paper into a ship
set sail across a puddle in the rain

how many mornings have we woken
with the memory of a dream in the eye
swept away like many broken leaves
blowing softly along an aging, autumn sky

how many moments have i wondered
between our first breath and last sigh
as we lead ourselves to a six foot hole
how many different tears will we cry

The City's An Energy

the city's an energy
of fire and will
an unleashed animal
in pursuit of its kill

pouncing on passion
devouring its life
howling at the moon
its fangs hanging like a knife

craving uncertainty
it pierces with its claw
imprisoning all silence
by full penalty of its law

more than its tallest building
searching for eternity
it feels the sins inside its cage
slowly tumble to the sea

and when the arrow of light
splits the night with the new mom
it stitches together its fragmented pieces
wholly baptized and reborn

Into The Blur

Dreams drift
Thoughts twist
Silence runs swift
Through the theater

The players act
The audience reacts
The heart denies fact
But outside things are as they were

There’s children alone
People without homes
An endlessly busy emergency phone
Cryings for departure

There’s bottled minds
Meaningless times
First breaths at the end of the line
Rememberings for what were

The players are done
The audience is gone
They all move on

-Into the blur-

Through The Dawn...

the sun is shining on a winter sea
of crystalline snow and angel-wing trees
so won't you come over and play with me
we'll ride a wave of childlike ecstasy

into the dawn

every time i look into your eyes
i feel gentle like the snow that fell from the skies
something about them fills my heart with sighs
and makes me want to drop my hidden disguise

until the dawn

whenever you ask if heaven's real
i say it's not a place to see it's just something that you feel
and it's you my love with your powers to heal
for every moment we spend's another moment i steal

from the dawn

and i know if i had a day to do again
i'd choose the one when i met you my friend
for when i'm with you i don't need to pretend
i want us to drive together up around the bend

and through the dawn

I'm Just A Crazy Circle

I'm just a crazy circle
here I go again
and when I think I'll finally stop
I curve around a bend

and back to the beginning
for thus I always go
dropping dreams along the way
I guess I'll never know

so I imagine magic horses
and fairy tales to defend
'cause I'm just a crazy circle
and here I go again

I'm Only Me

I've got eight thousand legs
And they all lead back to my mind
My heart is humbled with regrets
But I'm afraid to scratch them out
For then I will find

I'm only me

So I keep my Cartoon Television
And my movies that live so real
And my poems and books that secure me
But I'm afraid to scratch them out
For without them I would feel

I'm only me

So I lose me in my nighttime
The blackness and my dreams
The forest that lies within the nothing
And still, I'm afraid to scratch them out
For without them it seems

I'm only me

Who Am I?

The poet
is his pen
The painter
his brush
The gambler
his 5 carded
royal flush

The philosopher
is his thoughts
The con man
his lie
The architect
his design
who am I?

I've Been Swallowed By A Painting

every time i see you
my humbled heart just sighs
a ribboned world of rainbows
sweetly strung to candy butterflies

as silken strands of gentle dreams
drip down the moonlit night
while melodic carnivals of swirling sounds
ignite the color of light

like the floating fire of imagination
floating free over fields of sunset
i have been given if only this once more
a moment i will never forget

for i've been swallowed by a painting
fallen endless through summer skies
been given a glimpse of heaven's wings
now living in your eyes

Life Is Really...

life is really
just a play
of little
connected
scenes

you love
for the ups
live through
the downs
and deal with

the in-betweens

The Night We Danced On Stars

I stole a rose
from a gentle garden
and slowly slid the stem
behind your ear

the silent night
had softly spoken
as I watched the sun
light your burning hair

kidnapped and chained
with no stain of remembrance
but for the diamond angels
in your eyes

you took my hand
spreading your magic sands
and the chains suddenly turned
to butterflies

and the moon, it smiled
as the sun bid farewell
and we danced ourselves
upon the stars

and so if tomorrow
the memory book should close
this sweet fairy tale
will always be ours

the night
we danced on stars

Memories Of The Heart

A woman at a fruit stand
Talks fondly of her peach
Bringing a smile to the faces
Of the ears that are in reach

A customer at a bank claims
There's a chance that it may rain
While the teller says, "But definitely
The sun will shine again"

A young boy at a park runs
To a man hiding under a tree
And says, "The sun is shining down
Don't you want to come to see?"

Just moments of time
With temporary friends
But memories of the heart
Until the very end

The Empty Pages Of A Baby's Book...

the empty pages of a baby's book
become history by the end
imprinted with pictures of captured time
they only learn to wisely spend

when salt of hair and frail of finger
and humble of heart and mind
realizing at last the only moments that matter
are the unopened ones left behind

lost like presents on Christmas morn
never knowing the wide-eyed surprise
that slowly crawls across a person's face
unwrapping its paper disguise

for the baby explores what the grown up will question
the unknown that appears before the eye
the baby not caring the reason it's there
the grown up needing to understand why

but for now the pages are empty
and what's to be written anybody's guess
i only hope at the end when asked if they loved their life
they answer with a passionate yes

Morning Rose Slowly...

morning rose slowly
uncertain of her path
whether to hang her tear-filled clouds
or light the sun and laugh

searching through her swatches
she discovered a dreary gray
stapling it to the blanket of night
and presenting it as the day

a ritual runner grew curious
disbelieving of his eyes
was this to warn of a coming storm
or simply a disguise

consulting at last the calendar
she exhaled in full gale force
sending a child in search of his hat
as the autumn leaves tumbled their course

leaning against a lamppost now
the hat surrendered without a fight
as the boy smiled bright in victory
and danced with true delight

suddenly warmed by this glow of innocence
and realizing what she'd done
the morning struck a match to the sky
and gave the day a sun

Don't Look For Me, My Love

every september a candle comes around
leaving me looking at less of the road
some say it's a jet plane, a booming sonic sound
in the end i guess it's just all the stories you told

our gorgeous sun is shrinking, sinking low
shadowing allwarmth with a touch of cold
a distant train, whistle blowing, is chugging toward our home
and a receding sea's whispering secrets we thankfully got to know

the pale grey done creeping 'round
reminds me where i'm bound
but i promise we'll step of this world together
when it's our time to go

so don't look for me, my love, i'll be here
don't look, my love, i'm not going anywhere
don't look for me, my love
i'll be here to stare into your eyes

'til they're no longer there

Your Lips On Mine

Your lips on mine
A taste so sweet
The thrill of wine
A feeling complete

The laughter of children
Skating on a pond
Captured in a moment
Magic like a wand

An open door
A truth revealed
A swollen minute
A dream past concealed

A Christmas morning
Santa still alive
The cookies eaten
The note memorized

My entire life
Entwined as one
Inside of this kiss
I've finally begun

The Mixed Mind Of A "Do You..."

Do you think they're dumb
When they say "I cannot"
Or question all the numb
Trapped in the life they caught

Do you find the fiend
In the maze they built
Or question if they'll fall
Off their bending stilt

Do you see the light
Within the black-eyed rim
Or tell them it was better
Back in the place they'd been

Do you find the dreams
When you scratch out their eyes
Or stitch together deep-found wounds
When you find out the lies

Wrap them up
Tape them in sincerity
Open your hand like a cup
Tell them where you want to be

But most of all show them
The shades of all your blue
'Cause you'll just end up a worry
In the mixed mind of a "Do you..."

Without Sorrow

i'm living on horses
that can't be reigned in
and thinking of the sins I would have been
before I became what I am
the person that lies within
this thing
the one who wishes he could sing
if only for one night
in front of no one
but one person
sing for someone who understands
even if they run away
frightened of the connection
the glimpse inside the truth
see, because that's all i want
is to see a door swinging
back and forth with my perfect mate
8 miles down the freeway and
to leave a situation for once
not feeling alone

Pissing Off The Gods...

Here’s a tip to those who due to events seemingly beyond their control freefall 7 or so feet onto a pile of rocks.

DON’T.

IT HURTS.

A LOT.

STILL DOES.

A LOT.

I LIKE WRITING IN CAPITALS WITH A LINE BREAK BEFORE...

A LOT.

Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled whatever…

I would have said “events beyond your control” - no seemingly - except this fall occurred in India, the land of Karma.

So, I wondered…and wondered…and then a thought occurred but I denied it cause I wasn’t really hungry. (My doctor says my hunger is just a thought filling the empty void a person of my intelligence will usually find when attempting to wonder, so he recommend I stop and I did—hey, do you think he was being sarcastic and was actually saying I’m NOT intelligent? Naw.

But, stop wondering I did…til today.

What, in my past might have I done to piss off the gods?

So, I had myself hypnotized. And back I went, back, back, back…into not just early in this life, not just my birth, but into ANOTHER life…a PAST life.

And guess what?

I worked in a QUARRY. Gulp. I was closer to my reason. And then, I saw. I didn’t just hammer at rocks or remove the dislodged ones, I BLEW THEM UP WITH DYNAMITE.

I swear under hypnosis I heard tiny shouts of “Medic!” from the splintered fragments as the dust cleared. (Fragmented pieces is trying to be very PG-13. The truth, The R version: There were no pieces, never are in rock dynamiting, least not my past life me did it. They were pulverized)

Worse, I was known as THE ROCK HATER. Whenever there was a particular piece of rock that didn’t want to move, they’d all finally yell down a line you could hearing echoing all over the quarry:

Send in The Rock Hater. Send in The Rock Hater…on and on down the line til word reached me.

And I’d take a good, long, deep breath, chomping on a cigar, lit dynamite sticks calmly juggling deftly from hand to hand, smile sinisterly, and say:

Any day killing rocks is a great day to be alive.

And off I’d go…and BOOM. Nothing left. Nothing ever left. Pulverized. Just dust.

And out of hypnosis I came.

And I knew and know.

My seemingly out of control freefall was in my control. They say revenge is best served cold….and in another life. Wait, do they say that? I’m pretty sure. I’ll check on it.

Instant karma gonna get you
Gonna knock you off your feet
- John Lennon

So true. So, so true.

PS: Did I mention in my former life I was the best-looking man ever with six pack abs and those muscles showing that lead down under my shorts to my unmentionables?

I was to.

Next Time You Hear "We" When They Mean You...

I’m hearing this not just spoken in hospitals by nurses and octors but by store cashiers:

How WE doing?

Next time respond with: Who’s we sucka?

And when they don’t know you’re quoting from a Dirty Harry movie, finish off with Harry’s line:

Me, Smith and Wesson…

…while reaching into a pocket.

It seems like a fun way to kill a few moments.

I haven’t tried it myself yet, as I’m uncertain how the “me, Smith and Wesson” line while reaching into a pocket as if pulling a gun would go over but…

…if you’d like to try it out and let me know how it goes, I’d be happy to try it…unless your writing from the prison Internet…of course.

The Thing About Yard Sales...

The thing about yard sales is this:

You sell off all the crap you bought at the yard sales you went to the year before…which is actually crap you owned the year before that when, in a moment of clarity and honesty, you said that not only did you not play with or use these particular items anymore, you haven’t even looked at them in a decade.

Then, the next year, in a fit of nostalgia you go to yard sales and buy it all back only to have, the next year, another moment of clarity and sell it off…

…and the cycle continues, endlessly.

So, remember, the next time you’re at a yard sale and pick up Stratego and say in a moment of wistful remembrance:

‘Stratego. I used to own one.’

Chances are: You used to own THIS one.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about yard sales. – (saw Forrest Gump recently)

Cousins and Money

This one belongs to a friend of mine:

One time he said – and it’s so on the nose true –

‘The most pointless thing in the world is having a rich cousin.’

And I thought...Most definitely: The only certainties in life are death, taxes, and you will not be receiving nickel one from your rich cousin.

"Studies" and Money

I recently read about a “study” undertaken to determine the most dangerous place in the world.

The answer: IRAQ

Give me $2.50, I tell you that answer right now.

I also read another “study” that determined essentially that teens have sex because it makes them feel good.

I’ll give you that answer right now and for free.

How much money are these people getting paid to “study” these subjects?

I guarantee it’s more than $2.50…and remember I’m giving my answer to the second “study” for free, so it’s definitely more than $1.25 per study.

So, next time you need an obvious answer to an obvious question, think about me.

Hollywood and Poster Catch Phrases

I feel like this is how Hollywood meetings discussing movie poster catch phrases must go:

They’ve just arrived in the conference room and someone immediately pipes up:

The film: RAGING INFERNO

How about “Raging Inferno - Detective Nick Inferno Is Raging”?

The boss: Works for me. Let’s break for lunch.

Then a couple years later, after RAGING INFERNO cleaned up at the box office the first two weeks before people realized it was a piece of crap, therefore warranting a sequel:

Again they just arrive in the conference room, now needing a title as well as a poster catch phrase and new someone immediately pipes up:

How about:

‘Raging Inferno 2 – Detective Nick Inferno Is Raging…Again’

The new boss: Works for me. Let’s break for lunch.

Two Tales From My Sister's Dating Wars

Guy 1:

She casually dated a man, in college I think, so they were apart during holidays, etc. and, one time, he called her and said, hand to god:

I miss you every OTHER day.

It’s like: Well, I guess I’ll speak with you in a couple days.

Unreal but true.

Guy 2:

She met a man who worked in the same office building she did - saw entering, exiting, elevators, etc. - and one day he asked her to lunch, telling her he knew of a great little French restaurant.

About my sister: She’s not someone who cares about being taken to someplace fancy for dinner. She'd like it, but it’s not a deal breaker, basically. So now this, not just lunch, but a workday lunch when they can find time, NO ONE expects anything, so she was taken aback by the choice of restaurant and looked forward to it.

So, lunchtime comes and they’re walking down the sidewalk, talking, getting along really well, when the man suddenly stops and says “Here we are.”

And there, standing before her was the French restaurant:

Au Bon Pain.

It makes you wonder if he would have called McDonald’s a cozy Scottish place.

All true. Unreal but true.

One Thing In Life Can Break My Will...

…and I'm talking weeping-uncontrollably-down-on-my-knees-hands-clasped-and-raised-skyward-god-I-believe-in-you-and-know-you-wouldn’t-give-me-more-than-I-can-handle- but-this-time-you-gave-me-a-mountain-I-promise-I’ll-start-attending-church-regularly-and-volunteering-my-services-to-those-in-need-if-you’ll-just-give-me-help-this-one-time…

…broken will.

The culprit:

MY COMPUTER

So let’s cut out all this ‘it’s an inanimate object’ crap and admit that HAL has arrived and his desire is nothing short of breaking the human spirit.

Director's 1st Films - Blood Simple (1984)

Blood Simple – Written and Directed by Joel and Ethan Cohen

Joel and Ethan Coen (Fargo, Miller’s Crossing, Raising Arizona, Barton Fink) An excellent noir about a husband hiring a private investigator - no sane person would trust – to kill his cheating wife and her new lover. All the twists, turns, and double backs the Coens have become known for are evident here, as well as their trademark black, black humor. Exceptional.

(Frances McDormand, John Getz, Dan Hedaya, and the great character actor M. Emmet Walsh)

Frankie & Johnny (1991)

Frankie & Johnny – Directed by: Garry Marshall Written by: Terrance McNally

Pacino lightens it up here to play fresh out of prison Johnny who takes a job as a cook at a small New York diner. Middle aged, he throws himself back into life with gusto, hoping to accumulate some good memories before he dies. Unfortunatley, the woman he would like to start this new life with, Frankie (Pfieffer) is locked within herself, having been through a devastating relationship. Some incredibly sincere and honest talks between two broken souls collecting their pieces...and laughs to boot.

(Directed by Garry Marshall (Pretty Woman, Flamingo Kid) and starring Al Pacino, Michelle Pfieffer, Hector Elizondo, and a terrific Nathan Lane.)

Donnie Brasco (1997)

Donnie Brasco – Directed by: Mike Newell Written by: Paul Attanasio

FBI agent Joe Pistone (Depp) goes deep undercover as Donnie Brasco, attempting to find insider information that will put mob bosses away for a very long time. He befriends “Lefty” Ruggiero, who takes him into his confidence and vouches for him as a “stand-up guy” and just like that Donnie is in. Feeding off Depp, Pacino’s performance as a poor shmuck continually passed over for promotion (even by Brasco) that must scream out how important and well known he is for people to turn his way is so heartbreaking, it’s difficult not to feel for the guy. This movie on the whole is much overlooked and should be at the top of all rental lists. Depp is exceptional, as well. (Starring Al Pacino, Johnny Depp, Michael Madson.)

Scorcese's After Hours (1985)

After Hours – Wirtten by: Joseph Minion

A keep-to-himself yuppie wanders out for coffee one night and meets a strange but beautiful woman. Making a date to meet later at her apartment, the yuppie slips down the rabbit hole into a surreal fever-dream of twists, turns, and double-backs that culminate in him being hunted down by a neighborhood lynching mob…when all the while he just wants to go home. A black, black comedy with exceptional performances from all, Scorsese does a masterful job of exposing another part of New York’s underbelly.

(Griffin Dunne, Rosanna Arquette, Linda Fiorentino, Teri Garr, John Heard...and a small cameo from Cheech & Chong)

Scorcese's The Age Of Innocence

The Age Of Innocence –

Set in late-1800’s New York, this beautifully shot (and I repeat: Beautifully shot) film tells the story of a reserved, proper lawyer (Daniel Day-Lewis) whose engaged to equally reserved and proper May (Winona Ryder) but falls for May’s free-spirited cousin (Michelle Pfieffer). Imprisoned deeply inside the invisible cage of social convention, Day-Lewis leaves the passion for the cousin to simmer beneath the surface, as a trained smile politely plays across his face. Proving it’s not how far you go, just as long as it’s a little more than allowed, watch for a scene where Day-Lewis kisses Pfieffer’s exposed wrist. Talk about sensual, sexual and erotic. Based on an Edith Wharton novel.

Starman

Starman –

An alien lands on earth and assumes the shape and identity of a grieving widow’s dead husband. Chased by government agents, the two forma a close bond as they make their way cross country to meet a spacecraft waiting to take the alien home. Bridges has the difficult task of making it feel as though this alien is truly adjusting to his new disguise, a body (which, being human, Bridges has had his hole life – a seemingly impossible tasks), and understand the English language beyond the words. (Co-starring the lovely Karen Allen – Raiders of the Lost Ark, Animal House.)

Gene Hackman Supporting Role - Heartbreakers

Heartbreakers:

A very funny story about mother-daughter con artists. Their hook: The mother lures rich men into marrying her, catches them in a compromising position with a young temptress (the daughter), and takes them for everything in the divorce. Trouble brews when they head to Palm Beach, Florida, and the daughter wants to break out and find her own mark. While the mother seduces an elderly, billionaire tobacco magnate (Hackman), the daughter sets her sights on a young bar owner.

Hackman’s exceptional as a man who’s dying from using his own product, refuses to hire employees if they DON’T smoke, and refers to an art curator who requests he put out his cigarette to preserve the centuries-old paintings as a “Nazi.” Ray Liotta shows a great knack for comedy as a mark, but watch as he realizes he’s been double-crossed and pulls a gun. BOOM. Right back to Henry Hill in “Goodfellas.” Quite a transition. (Sigourney Weaver, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Hackman, Liotta, Jason Lee, and the always good to see, Anne Bancroft)