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Showing posts from July, 2005

Oh, Yes, I Am

My Roommates moved out.
And left their cat. My Roommates said they would be back. I do hope they meant for their cat.
Not that My Roommates' cat requires much, to be honest. Besides a open Front Door once in awhile and my front lawn to roll all her grey fur upon; Smokie seldom even eats here.
And although The Grass is starting to yellow in spots, I do my best not to blame Smokie.
Indoors, Misty is my lovely cat. Misty is approaching five years old.
Misty was unsure that she was a cat. She would growl if someone knocked upon my Front Door. In fact, I am certain Misty really had no clue what she was.
Even after living with Lucy, for a year, back three years a go.
(Don't you mean Lucifer? The Voice is laughing at me, over my shoulder, as I type this.
And I will let you all know that I only turn to glare at The Voice, for Lucifer was indeed Lucy's real name.)
My Roommates' cat has a most lovely growl, as well. Accompanied, usually, with a tremendous hiss. The spitting vari…

Fast Dreams

James cut the engine and slammed his hands on the steering wheel, gripping and wanting to shake it, as the boys leapt at the car, happy and reaching in to pat him on the back.
Fucking third,he thought.
The boys were thinking the same thing, but with exclamations points.
The boys were happy. It was their best finish all season.
And that is what pissed James off.
He took off his helmet, felt the dirty sweat gripped to his head like ooze, and got out of the car.
He did smile at the boys.
He just looked at the sky and ignored everything else, but the smell of burnt rubber, always dirty in his nostrils. And he thought of the word dirty, and he thought of Jews and he thought of Niggers, and he knew dirty was a bad word, had been back as long as his goddamn mind could remember. And if what he smelt was goddamn dirty, why the fuck was he doing it?
I am 36 years old, his thoughts just continued. 36 years old.

Punks-In June

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
And now it was after dark, and after the stories.
It was after Sissy.
It was after another two joints.
Minnie was so stoned, she did not realise she was rocking Lydia, in her arms, not noticing until she felt the faded yellow hair trail down her arms; Tommy with his hands, dragging down on the dolls legs; gently, until the doll broke free from her.
"I didn't do it, either, Tommy," Minnie whispered, just a whisper and she did not look up. She did not stop rocking.
And Tommy noticed Lydia and Minnie both had red lines for mouths.
It just doesn't matter, he thought, and then their lips were touching; just like that, and it was hunger and he could taste her mouth, taste her lips and she could taste him, too. Bitter nicotine on the tip of her tongue.
Tommy noticed his hands clenched to her shoulders, pushing her shirt from her shoulders. He wanted to kiss the skin there and so he did. He felt her hand …

Something For You

...they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and every body goes "Awww!"

`Jack Kerouac
On The Road

Chapter 7

Upon the completion of the reconstruction of the un-motorised motorhome, Tim believed nothing bad could touch them again because his reason led him to believe lightening never struck in the same place twice, so why would a tornado? But as we can previously recall, all Tim's walk that fine line between stupid and idiot.
Further proving our mutual knowledge, not understanding the value of money, Tim bought seven cases of beer with the cash he had saved on replacing the roof. Tim decided he was going to have himself a party.
The party would be on the very next night. A Friday! But since it was Thursday and there were seven cases of beer, Tim decided he could drink one of those cases on this Thursday. And at least another on Friday!
Tim was really happy. He thought it was a wonderful Thursday.
But it was on this Thursday, in the night, when they were sitting outside and around the Hibatchi, roasting hot dogs with Justin, who had dropped-in, so Justin was drinking beer, too, while b…