I died today. It was unexpected, yet not. I had asked God to take me before, but never thought of sinning myself. Two decades of pain and gnarled joints, broken back, enough medicines to fill three lifetimes, and all their glorious side-effects that have done what they are wont to do: deaden, decay, destroy. My minds eye sees the carnage hidden to those outside my skin. I’ve not seen my silver anniversary. Nor will I. I no longer feel the pulsing burn in my hips, the relentless ball of deep hot heat in my back. The backs of my hands don’t hover with the burn of the path seared through my veins. My deadweight shoulders hang loose and free. I can close my fingers into a fist for the first time in a long time. I try it again, in wonder. My ankles, only attached by the barest of strings in a hollow ball encasing have given up the ghost. Knees that played a bone symphony of clicking, burning, buckling from the inside out now rest in peace. No more nausea and throwing up to plague my stomach. There are no more doctor waiting rooms, needles, transfusions, blood work and ruder nurses that filled my sick time off work. Born with no ears, today I hear things never heard before. What a wonderful world. In a holding pattern, I wait. My mother cries, my father sniffles, his white handkerchief bunched, quickly hidden in the pocket, lest someone see. My twin breathes deep, and accepts life as life deals. The others weep at the tears of others, not of their own hurt. The oldest and the youngest of their kids are bewildered – some from the vagrancies of life, some from the mysteries inherent in a young life. The line curls around Chambers’ Funeral Home. Spring requires only a sports coat, or less, for those too full of their own coolness. Police direct traffic and everyone comments, “such a shame, such a young man, the prime of his life.” Bah! My life was a four letter word, and it is not obscene. At least the word is not; pain. Thanks to those drugs I have very few memories. I do not recall not feeling pain. I do not recall. In line they come in honor, for the son, or the father, is not for me to know. The view is cold from here. I see the coffin door close over me again, darkness descends. It repeats. All have gone home, to their lives, their prayers, their stories amidst the march of time. The lid reopens. Sunlight, prayers, tears, and the lid closes over me for the last time. A dark roll, a dark ride. Little Chambers funeral flags snap on parade through the city. Cars wait, unaware of more than the procession before them. Then, nephews pull me out; hoist me on their shoulders, and up the steps. Up the steps, and into the house of God. There are many here, tho most of my father’s age, or generation. Warmth comes again, as I take the hand of God. I see auld friends, and I smile. Names that go back two score years have come to say the final goodbye. They will drink of me again, when memories trigger. But this is goodbye, I know this. How quickly my ripple dies has always scarred me. Soon it will be of no bother at all. Yet. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” the priest intones. He married me, consoled me when I divorced, smiled, hugged me and shook my hand whenever we met. He cries. The utter waste that was my life. There is no crying in heaven, and only tears in Hell. Don’t let go God. There is no God in hell, don’t let go. I will go before you always. Holy water splashes across the lid. My niece talks between grasping breaths. Nephews raise me up, on their shoulders again, and walk me out, push me in, pull me out, walk me to my grave. The good Father intones once more. Each takes a red red rose from my coffin, before they drift, some to a meal, some to resume their lives once more. I think I’m alone now. Then, I am cranked down into my resting place. Shovel by shovel, the cold earth thumps atop me, becoming more muffled, till once again I return to a silent world. Finality. The weight of the world settles around me.
I am no more.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
My Humble City
My Humble City
by Alan States
My humble city, so many times you have bent
under the weight of corruption and power plays, burning rivers, empty steel mills
massive layoffs, shuttered factories, renewal projects with jobs only on paper, Baltimore.
Kicked by the steel toe that built you, your teeth have a hopeless feel to their bite.
My immigrant city, is an emigrant neighborhood now;
sprawl, flight, drain, greener grass, fear.
Hunkered down, waiting for the sun to rise, where the sun has set
on such dreams.
My once proud city, your bare bones are creaking,
lost in the shadow of your medical giants, for want of medicine
Pride and prejudice, craving for respect,
from the smoking barrel of a gun.
My poor city, panhandling on the street, in tent city, in the halls of Congress
for a cup of coffee with lots of sugar the only sweet thing
these bitter mouths have tasted,
so lost is the moment, in isolation.
My waterfront city, where seagulls shriek
as they gorge on the discarded refuse
of a town that progress and vision forgot to visit
this time around.
My unbroken city, I love thee more. For all your struggles,
the city you are is not the city you can become. And tho
your black eyes shame, your promise thrills.
The door to rekindling yesteryear’s glory has not closed
Sunday, March 29, 2009
tortured children
Humans are the only species that systematically tortures and murders its own for pleasure and personal gain. All our poems and symphonies and oils on canvas will never change that.
- George Carlin
Perhaps we cannot prevent this world from being a world in which children are tortured. But we can reduce the number of tortured children. And if you believers don’t help us, who else in the world can help us do this?
- Camus
Come my friends, it is not too late to seek a better world.
– Tennyson
- George Carlin
Perhaps we cannot prevent this world from being a world in which children are tortured. But we can reduce the number of tortured children. And if you believers don’t help us, who else in the world can help us do this?
- Camus
Come my friends, it is not too late to seek a better world.
– Tennyson
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Low Down Dirty Dating Shame
My date was cute and personable, accomplished and intelligent. I’ll call her Jezebel. We met online, and our chats were refreshingly honest. They got deep, and deeper.
Eventually, this past weekend, we met for the first time in person. A nice little corner bistro was her comfort zone, with good food, good atmosphere and outlandish prices. I had never been there, but anyplace where she would feel comfortable is always a good choice on a first date.
She looked at me so directly, it was disarming, but paired with such unusually direct expression of thoughts and desires, it was a turn-on. We enjoyed the dinner, with good conversation, many similar experiences professionally and general agreement on many issues/news of the day.
She told me she had been divorced a month and a ½. I though that was quick to start dating, but different folks are ready at different times and some divorces come after long separations, I would wait on forming an opinion.
Dinner wrapped up. It was a cool night, but not too cold, so we walked around the neighborhood. She took my hand as we walked. I was hoping to find an open art gallery or such, but the only thing around and open were bars and restaurants. After making a circuit, it was still only 9:30, so I asked:
“Want to stop and have a drink?”
”Sure,”
A few steps later, “I’m an alcoholic.”
I don’t think my expression changed as I held the door open for her. I understood what she said, but it is a deep thing, an important thing. The casualness, the suddenness caught me by surprise. A few steps earlier and I would have said ok, lets find something else. By then we were already inside.
I wasn’t sure whether to be pissed she hadn’t told me something so major, or glad she felt confident enough to share that with me. The really deep conversations we had had made me think she had had plenty of opportunity in the past. Being an alcoholic would not have influenced my decision to date her, or anyone I am attracted to. Not disclosing it until you are walking into a bar? It is not a little thing. When so much of the dating world and what I do professionally revolves around bars/restaurants and live music, it is something that needs to be disclosed early. I would find out later, it wasn’t the most important thing she had left out.
We found a table in the back. I got Jezzy a lemon water and a beer for myself. We continued to talk, fairly fluently. I was looking at her lips. I think she thought I was looking at her breasts, as she kept looking at me, then down at them herself. Small but nicely shaped they were, but I was looking at her lips as we talked for an hour. I asked if she was ready to go, and she said no, not yet. Good enough for me. We talked for another hour, then as the midnight hour crept up on us, headed out.
I walked her to her car. We kissed, tentatively, but that only lasted for seconds before our kisses became deep and exploring. It was getting colder, and that eventually seeped through our embrace. She asked did I want to get in the car and continue. I nodded, and we did. After ½ an hour, I asked if she wanted to follow me home, and she did.
I am in the dating “game” with no interest in playing games. I am looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with. I have found that sexual intercourse is too important to engage in too soon. It ALWAYS changes the relationship.
How it changes it seems to be in direct correlation to how strong the relationship is. After many forging experiences, the sex can be glorious, and a 3D, all senses rich meld of mind and body. On the other hand, the less time you have been together; the less time you have forged a foundation of experiences from which to build on, the more likely that the act will change the relationship for the worse. Based on that, obviously, we did not have sex.
We finally drifted off to broken sleep around four, awake at 8. She slipped out of the bed and took a shower, tho I didn’t realize it until I went into the bathroom and saw the wet shower doors. We got up later, and she said since no one had offered her anything to drink, she was leaving.
I thought she had been anxious to leave, as she said she had an appointment. “My bad,” I said, “Do you want …?” and gave a list of alternatives.
Coffee it was, then she said it was too sweet. She headed off and I did things around the house. Later, I got an email. She said how she enjoyed the night, wanted more, and asked me more questions about my likes and dislikes on everyday things.
Then Jezzy told me she had just recently broken off with a married man because he wasn’t going to leave his wife for her. They had been in a long term affair, while both were married, and continued after her divorce. Then she had just decided to break it off and start dating. Now he wanted her back, saying he was going to leave his wife for her.
I read it, then reread it, thinking there is no way I read this right. The affair, the extremely condensed time frame and THE AFFAIR all took a moment for me to wrap my mind around. I ignored her questions in my response, saying only that what she had told me was a deal breaker; I had never contemplated an affair, either when married and going thru a divorce, nor when single and meeting a married woman. I had had offers, I also had morals. You can say it is not that simple, but it is.
I could not fathom what she was doing. If someone wants to end their own marriage, then do so – before you enter another relationship, short or long-term, with someone else. But destroying, or having any part in destroying, another’s marriage is reprehensible. I was sickened.
I wished her good luck, and told her I did not wish to have any more contact with her. I am mind-boggled.
Eventually, this past weekend, we met for the first time in person. A nice little corner bistro was her comfort zone, with good food, good atmosphere and outlandish prices. I had never been there, but anyplace where she would feel comfortable is always a good choice on a first date.
She looked at me so directly, it was disarming, but paired with such unusually direct expression of thoughts and desires, it was a turn-on. We enjoyed the dinner, with good conversation, many similar experiences professionally and general agreement on many issues/news of the day.
She told me she had been divorced a month and a ½. I though that was quick to start dating, but different folks are ready at different times and some divorces come after long separations, I would wait on forming an opinion.
Dinner wrapped up. It was a cool night, but not too cold, so we walked around the neighborhood. She took my hand as we walked. I was hoping to find an open art gallery or such, but the only thing around and open were bars and restaurants. After making a circuit, it was still only 9:30, so I asked:
“Want to stop and have a drink?”
”Sure,”
A few steps later, “I’m an alcoholic.”
I don’t think my expression changed as I held the door open for her. I understood what she said, but it is a deep thing, an important thing. The casualness, the suddenness caught me by surprise. A few steps earlier and I would have said ok, lets find something else. By then we were already inside.
I wasn’t sure whether to be pissed she hadn’t told me something so major, or glad she felt confident enough to share that with me. The really deep conversations we had had made me think she had had plenty of opportunity in the past. Being an alcoholic would not have influenced my decision to date her, or anyone I am attracted to. Not disclosing it until you are walking into a bar? It is not a little thing. When so much of the dating world and what I do professionally revolves around bars/restaurants and live music, it is something that needs to be disclosed early. I would find out later, it wasn’t the most important thing she had left out.
We found a table in the back. I got Jezzy a lemon water and a beer for myself. We continued to talk, fairly fluently. I was looking at her lips. I think she thought I was looking at her breasts, as she kept looking at me, then down at them herself. Small but nicely shaped they were, but I was looking at her lips as we talked for an hour. I asked if she was ready to go, and she said no, not yet. Good enough for me. We talked for another hour, then as the midnight hour crept up on us, headed out.
I walked her to her car. We kissed, tentatively, but that only lasted for seconds before our kisses became deep and exploring. It was getting colder, and that eventually seeped through our embrace. She asked did I want to get in the car and continue. I nodded, and we did. After ½ an hour, I asked if she wanted to follow me home, and she did.
I am in the dating “game” with no interest in playing games. I am looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with. I have found that sexual intercourse is too important to engage in too soon. It ALWAYS changes the relationship.
How it changes it seems to be in direct correlation to how strong the relationship is. After many forging experiences, the sex can be glorious, and a 3D, all senses rich meld of mind and body. On the other hand, the less time you have been together; the less time you have forged a foundation of experiences from which to build on, the more likely that the act will change the relationship for the worse. Based on that, obviously, we did not have sex.
We finally drifted off to broken sleep around four, awake at 8. She slipped out of the bed and took a shower, tho I didn’t realize it until I went into the bathroom and saw the wet shower doors. We got up later, and she said since no one had offered her anything to drink, she was leaving.
I thought she had been anxious to leave, as she said she had an appointment. “My bad,” I said, “Do you want …?” and gave a list of alternatives.
Coffee it was, then she said it was too sweet. She headed off and I did things around the house. Later, I got an email. She said how she enjoyed the night, wanted more, and asked me more questions about my likes and dislikes on everyday things.
Then Jezzy told me she had just recently broken off with a married man because he wasn’t going to leave his wife for her. They had been in a long term affair, while both were married, and continued after her divorce. Then she had just decided to break it off and start dating. Now he wanted her back, saying he was going to leave his wife for her.
I read it, then reread it, thinking there is no way I read this right. The affair, the extremely condensed time frame and THE AFFAIR all took a moment for me to wrap my mind around. I ignored her questions in my response, saying only that what she had told me was a deal breaker; I had never contemplated an affair, either when married and going thru a divorce, nor when single and meeting a married woman. I had had offers, I also had morals. You can say it is not that simple, but it is.
I could not fathom what she was doing. If someone wants to end their own marriage, then do so – before you enter another relationship, short or long-term, with someone else. But destroying, or having any part in destroying, another’s marriage is reprehensible. I was sickened.
I wished her good luck, and told her I did not wish to have any more contact with her. I am mind-boggled.
Friday, March 13, 2009
How COOL is this?
Brain Scans Can Read Memories
livescience.com – Fri Mar 13, 1:15 pm ET
A split-view image showing PET scans of a normal brain (L) and a brain with Reuters – A split-view image showing PET scans of a normal brain (L) and a brain with Alzheimer's disease. (National …
Humans create memories of locations in physical or virtual space as they move around - and it all shows up on brain scans.
Researchers tracked brain activity related to "spatial memory" as volunteers moved about inside a virtual reality setup. Their new study challenges previous scientific thinking by showing that memories are recorded in regular patterns.
"Surprisingly, just by looking at the brain data we could predict exactly where they were in the virtual reality environment," said Eleanor Maguire, a neuroscientist at the University College London in the U.K. "In other words, we could 'read' their spatial memories."
Maguire and her colleagues focused on the hippocampus, or a small part of the brain that deals with navigation, memory recall and imagining future events. Neurons known as "place cells" activate in the hippocampus and inform people of where they are as they move around.
The researchers used an fMRI scanner to detect blood flow changes in the brain, and study the activity of the place cells as a volunteer controlled movement inside the virtual environment. They then ran the results through a computer algorithm developed by Demis Hassabis, another neuroscientist at University College London.
Earlier studies with rats had also focused on the hippocampus and measured activity at the level of dozens of neurons at most. But that research had suggested that the brain did not record memory in any sort of regular pattern - a trend that this latest study may overturn. Maguire and Hassabis examined thousands of neurons as opposed to just dozens, which allowed them to pick out broader patterns.
"By looking at activity over tens of thousands of neurons, we can see that there must be a functional structure - a pattern - to how these memories are encoded," Maguire said. "Otherwise, our experiment simply would not have been possible to do."
Mind-reading research has grown increasingly sophisticated over the years. Another recent study predicted people's preference for one of two drinks with 80 percent accuracy. And earlier findings showed that people's brains reflect abnormal activity up to half a minute before making errors.
The latest findings on memory could lead to many more studies that examine how actual memories end up encoded across our brain cells, Maguire said. She and Hassabis want to look beyond spatial memories to see if brain scans can pick up patterns in our memories of the past, as well as visions of the future. Such work could also have clinical implications for understanding diseases that attack memory.
"Understanding how we as humans record our memories is critical to helping us learn how information is processed in the hippocampus and how our memories are eroded by diseases such as Alzheimer's," added Demis Hassabis.
LiveScience.com
livescience.com – Fri Mar 13, 1:15 pm ET
A split-view image showing PET scans of a normal brain (L) and a brain with Reuters – A split-view image showing PET scans of a normal brain (L) and a brain with Alzheimer's disease. (National …
Humans create memories of locations in physical or virtual space as they move around - and it all shows up on brain scans.
Researchers tracked brain activity related to "spatial memory" as volunteers moved about inside a virtual reality setup. Their new study challenges previous scientific thinking by showing that memories are recorded in regular patterns.
"Surprisingly, just by looking at the brain data we could predict exactly where they were in the virtual reality environment," said Eleanor Maguire, a neuroscientist at the University College London in the U.K. "In other words, we could 'read' their spatial memories."
Maguire and her colleagues focused on the hippocampus, or a small part of the brain that deals with navigation, memory recall and imagining future events. Neurons known as "place cells" activate in the hippocampus and inform people of where they are as they move around.
The researchers used an fMRI scanner to detect blood flow changes in the brain, and study the activity of the place cells as a volunteer controlled movement inside the virtual environment. They then ran the results through a computer algorithm developed by Demis Hassabis, another neuroscientist at University College London.
Earlier studies with rats had also focused on the hippocampus and measured activity at the level of dozens of neurons at most. But that research had suggested that the brain did not record memory in any sort of regular pattern - a trend that this latest study may overturn. Maguire and Hassabis examined thousands of neurons as opposed to just dozens, which allowed them to pick out broader patterns.
"By looking at activity over tens of thousands of neurons, we can see that there must be a functional structure - a pattern - to how these memories are encoded," Maguire said. "Otherwise, our experiment simply would not have been possible to do."
Mind-reading research has grown increasingly sophisticated over the years. Another recent study predicted people's preference for one of two drinks with 80 percent accuracy. And earlier findings showed that people's brains reflect abnormal activity up to half a minute before making errors.
The latest findings on memory could lead to many more studies that examine how actual memories end up encoded across our brain cells, Maguire said. She and Hassabis want to look beyond spatial memories to see if brain scans can pick up patterns in our memories of the past, as well as visions of the future. Such work could also have clinical implications for understanding diseases that attack memory.
"Understanding how we as humans record our memories is critical to helping us learn how information is processed in the hippocampus and how our memories are eroded by diseases such as Alzheimer's," added Demis Hassabis.
LiveScience.com
Monday, March 9, 2009
Notable Quotables I - What do YOU think?
Men & Women &...
Men use toilets to pee, for women, they're social clubs. - B.O.
I see Keith Richards has called on young people to stop taking drugs. They have to Keith, you've taken the lot, you fucker. - Dennis Leary
If you want your girlfriend to scream during sex, ring her up and tell her - Martin T
Trying to end prostitution by criminalizing the prostitutes is like trying to end poverty by making it criminal to be poor. - Mary H.
Writing is like getting married. One should never commit oneself until one is amazed at one's luck. Iris Murdoch
Men use toilets to pee, for women, they're social clubs. - B.O.
I see Keith Richards has called on young people to stop taking drugs. They have to Keith, you've taken the lot, you fucker. - Dennis Leary
If you want your girlfriend to scream during sex, ring her up and tell her - Martin T
Trying to end prostitution by criminalizing the prostitutes is like trying to end poverty by making it criminal to be poor. - Mary H.
Writing is like getting married. One should never commit oneself until one is amazed at one's luck. Iris Murdoch
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Gray's Armory Ghosts
Gray’s Armory
By Alan States
Alone in a room,
buzzing with people I can’t quite see
My mind has gone into the past that is present in the room now
Flittering shadows, shades of white, blurred so distinctly
Ghosts, Spirits, Echoes of what was, who was.
I turn off my ears, and listen to the long unheard neverending chatter all around me.
I sneeze.
Earthbound, my soles points of contact
for a time elapsed, whose time has come
– only peering through a filmy window
An open mind is a fresh breeze airing out long dormant
green hills, epic loves, Civil Wars and American Wakes.
Stories.
I walked into the past with my senses seeking
And reeled, lost for hours in the book of what was.
By Alan States
Alone in a room,
buzzing with people I can’t quite see
My mind has gone into the past that is present in the room now
Flittering shadows, shades of white, blurred so distinctly
Ghosts, Spirits, Echoes of what was, who was.
I turn off my ears, and listen to the long unheard neverending chatter all around me.
I sneeze.
Earthbound, my soles points of contact
for a time elapsed, whose time has come
– only peering through a filmy window
An open mind is a fresh breeze airing out long dormant
green hills, epic loves, Civil Wars and American Wakes.
Stories.
I walked into the past with my senses seeking
And reeled, lost for hours in the book of what was.
Internet Dating No Shit Sherlocks
Internet Dating No Shit Sherlocks:
Don’t say:
you’re looking for love – no kidding? So are most single people, that’s why they went online
can go from jeans to little black dress- Everyone says it, few can do it with panache
you love laughter - really? Wow, whodda thunk it?
your life is a mess – wonderful, can I have some too?
Be wallowing in dating pity, of all that MEN have done to you – I know, It’s always the man’s fault (but when we read this, we are thinking: I know It’s always someone ELSE’S fault, for you). We don’t care about your ex, and the things he did badly. We are not him.
Say “Don’t contact me, if you’re only looking to screw” – classy; great first impression
Remember:
A picture is worth a thousand words, but a smile is a novel
Show a picture of a whip, if you want your men to grovel
If you hate to camp, show a bikini and hair dryer
Creative subtleties work better, than being thought a liar
Don’t have more pictures, of your dogs than of you
Or expressions that suggest dating, is the last thing you want to do.
Repetition breeds contempt, for nearly every profile the above proclaims,
For every-day seekers, there’s more important things to name;
How did the journey of life, bring you to here?
What did you learn, and what do you fear?
Adventurous is generic, sky-diving is not.
It matters so little, how well you stir the pot.
Grounded in reality, with dreams to ice the cake,
top off your own make up, lack of powder won’t make you quake.
A glimpse of true you is worth a hundred clichés,
for no one is perfect, and we actually like your little frays.
If your desire is communicator, your profile should have more than twenty words
and its really not “cute”, to use “dorky” or “nerd”.
***
Met an “Internet Gem”, who had nothing positive to say
Critical little slices, for each and every day
Knew no news, ‘cept her own little story
Every topic turned to reflect, more of her glory
So I laughed to myself, and moved on
Went on a first date, with a girl who would only have desert
Hard to get a word out, or even a flirt
I kissed her goodbye, in the literal as well
Flipped out in response, to give me hell
So I laughed to myself, and moved on
Chatted for a while, with a girl I was knowing well
But when we met, I had no clue in hell.
She walked right by me, I didn’t know who she was
Till she called my name, and I did as one at meetings does
I shook her hand, thought, “who the hell is this?”
From a picture so different, Jimminy Kris!
We chatted, we talked, dinner was quite good;
twenty year old pictures, might as well be wearing a hood.
Using an old pic, what honest relationship do you seek?
When at last we meet, your self image so weak?
Dishonesty is a turn-off, building foundations have no chance
for any true mates, to persevere through the dance.
So I shook my head, wondering what other shades of gray would you justify, and moved on
A date cancelled our dinner, said come to her house instead
She had been at work all day, and was feeling half dead
I said I understood, did she prefer another night?
But when I got there, I got a mighty fright.
There were so many cats, hair was curling in the air,
food was strewn all over, in this large farmhouse lair
We got a good pizza, watched a movie and talked
At licking fingers from the ice cream carton, I just had to balk
My stomach was turning over, for fresh air I did pine
No thanks, I said, and enough of sweet blackberry flavored wine!
I bid my adieu’s, the hair brushed from my sight,
Disentangled out the door, and slipped into the night
So I fought off the shivers, and moved on
I met a girl at Sully’s, she blew me away
Honest and straightforward, a refreshing spring day
We hit it off well, each date better than the last
“This one at is different”, panoramas so vast
She asked me to fuck her, this I wouldn’t do
Interwoven experiences have to be ingredients in the glue
She railed, she got drunk, she got brazen and she cried
I told her we had too much potential, to just fuck on the side
She tried to throw me out, I held her cooled off to talk
Red flags were crackling, but I wasn’t ready to walk
I had seen flashes of brilliance, of fitting just right
Crying jags came more often, letting her go took all my might
Gentle hands, gentle spirit, but her emotions all asunder
The peaks and the valleys, I never knew when the thunder
I know you need help, how to get help to you?
There’s no way we could survive, when you won’t see it too.
So I steel myself, and move on
Don’t say:
you’re looking for love – no kidding? So are most single people, that’s why they went online
can go from jeans to little black dress- Everyone says it, few can do it with panache
you love laughter - really? Wow, whodda thunk it?
your life is a mess – wonderful, can I have some too?
Be wallowing in dating pity, of all that MEN have done to you – I know, It’s always the man’s fault (but when we read this, we are thinking: I know It’s always someone ELSE’S fault, for you). We don’t care about your ex, and the things he did badly. We are not him.
Say “Don’t contact me, if you’re only looking to screw” – classy; great first impression
Remember:
A picture is worth a thousand words, but a smile is a novel
Show a picture of a whip, if you want your men to grovel
If you hate to camp, show a bikini and hair dryer
Creative subtleties work better, than being thought a liar
Don’t have more pictures, of your dogs than of you
Or expressions that suggest dating, is the last thing you want to do.
Repetition breeds contempt, for nearly every profile the above proclaims,
For every-day seekers, there’s more important things to name;
How did the journey of life, bring you to here?
What did you learn, and what do you fear?
Adventurous is generic, sky-diving is not.
It matters so little, how well you stir the pot.
Grounded in reality, with dreams to ice the cake,
top off your own make up, lack of powder won’t make you quake.
A glimpse of true you is worth a hundred clichés,
for no one is perfect, and we actually like your little frays.
If your desire is communicator, your profile should have more than twenty words
and its really not “cute”, to use “dorky” or “nerd”.
***
Met an “Internet Gem”, who had nothing positive to say
Critical little slices, for each and every day
Knew no news, ‘cept her own little story
Every topic turned to reflect, more of her glory
So I laughed to myself, and moved on
Went on a first date, with a girl who would only have desert
Hard to get a word out, or even a flirt
I kissed her goodbye, in the literal as well
Flipped out in response, to give me hell
So I laughed to myself, and moved on
Chatted for a while, with a girl I was knowing well
But when we met, I had no clue in hell.
She walked right by me, I didn’t know who she was
Till she called my name, and I did as one at meetings does
I shook her hand, thought, “who the hell is this?”
From a picture so different, Jimminy Kris!
We chatted, we talked, dinner was quite good;
twenty year old pictures, might as well be wearing a hood.
Using an old pic, what honest relationship do you seek?
When at last we meet, your self image so weak?
Dishonesty is a turn-off, building foundations have no chance
for any true mates, to persevere through the dance.
So I shook my head, wondering what other shades of gray would you justify, and moved on
A date cancelled our dinner, said come to her house instead
She had been at work all day, and was feeling half dead
I said I understood, did she prefer another night?
But when I got there, I got a mighty fright.
There were so many cats, hair was curling in the air,
food was strewn all over, in this large farmhouse lair
We got a good pizza, watched a movie and talked
At licking fingers from the ice cream carton, I just had to balk
My stomach was turning over, for fresh air I did pine
No thanks, I said, and enough of sweet blackberry flavored wine!
I bid my adieu’s, the hair brushed from my sight,
Disentangled out the door, and slipped into the night
So I fought off the shivers, and moved on
I met a girl at Sully’s, she blew me away
Honest and straightforward, a refreshing spring day
We hit it off well, each date better than the last
“This one at is different”, panoramas so vast
She asked me to fuck her, this I wouldn’t do
Interwoven experiences have to be ingredients in the glue
She railed, she got drunk, she got brazen and she cried
I told her we had too much potential, to just fuck on the side
She tried to throw me out, I held her cooled off to talk
Red flags were crackling, but I wasn’t ready to walk
I had seen flashes of brilliance, of fitting just right
Crying jags came more often, letting her go took all my might
Gentle hands, gentle spirit, but her emotions all asunder
The peaks and the valleys, I never knew when the thunder
I know you need help, how to get help to you?
There’s no way we could survive, when you won’t see it too.
So I steel myself, and move on
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Poltergeist Stereo
I bought a stereo right out of college - one of those big ass ones - Onkyo. It worked great, had all the bells and shistles. ^ CD player, dual cassette with high speed dubbing, LP player, tuner etc.. About 8 years ago, I came home and it was dead, dead, dead. I BELIEVE someone blew the speakers. Tested them, tuner, wires etc.. NADA. I kept it, thinking I will get it fixed at some point. It was all nice and neat in a cabinet, and the big ass speakers made a great stand for my humidor. About a year ago, a friend said, "Ach, you blew the receiver, get a new one on ebay or something." So I posted on the incredible, landfill saving sight, Freecycle, and sure enough, a nice guy gave me a receiver. I hooked it up - Nothing. Son of a bitch. So I pulled out the replacement receiver and noticed the wires looked funny. I rehooked up the old receiver and played around with it for a while. Suddenly, "a strange new perfume rose, and lightning flashes in her eyes, and he knows that she knows. And the Thunder rolls. dm dm dm, And the Thunder Rolls." and I turned down the volume.
After eight years, my stereo came back to life. I will not question the hand of God.
After eight years, my stereo came back to life. I will not question the hand of God.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Have a Little Respect
A Circular Reference – What respect begets
President of the United States. It is a lofty position. One that has not always been filled with honor, certainly, but one of high ideals. The media so often decries the lack of respect in the world, yet is the first to treat people disrespectfully if they do something the media deems wrong. Soon the line between wrong and a non-judgmental action have blurred. The disdain crosses from times of criticism, to all times. Instead of President Obama, we have Obama.
I certainly understood the negative backlash against President Bush. We went from the greatest economic boom in our history to nearing the worst. The Great Depression returns. Yet still, if you don’t respect the man, at least respect the office. It all boils down to that simple word, full of huge ideals. Respect, for others, and for ourselves. We get what we give. Like or not, respecting the office is a simple thing – the President has inspired the young for the first time in two generations. It is the first step, waiting for us to take the next.
If the CEO of your company does something you don’t like, you may grumble, but you don’t publicly disparage him or her. Even blogging about it can get you fired. Yet we disparage our President just in general conversation more often than we honor him or her. Calling someone by their last name is fine on a basketball court. It is a classless sign in the boardroom, or in politics.
We can’t seem to understand why other countries don’t get us. Our general lack of respect for each other is one huge reason, in all its meanings. I have many relatives in Canada and in Europe. Universally, they say, why do Americans treat each other (and folks who they are visiting) so boorishly? What has been done to them that is so horrible that they have they no respect?
We are a young country. Some say that immaturity is behind it. I disagree. The folks that came here had all the development of their own countries behind them. We are a country founded on vast emigration, most often to escape persecution or for better opportunities. We are persecuted, and leave, only to persecute others? That makes no sense. Don’t we learn from those kinds of things?
As kids, when we see something we like, we say “ I want to be like that when I grow up. When we see something, person or situation we do not like, we incorporate that into our modis operandi as well. Then, somewhere along the way, some folks lose sight of that – of what they wanted to be.
We will bypass someone hurt more often than help; disparage the sinner and disproportionally ignore the saint; take joy in others failures and pound our chests in our own successes, no matter how small. This is not competition, it is self-absorption – for Christ’s sake, act like you’ve been there before.
Respect gives you staying power, something with more life than one-hit wonders and flash-in-the-pan “celebrities”. Like life, you get out of it what you put into it. Treat others poorly, you may still succeed, but not for long. How many celebrities commit suicide, do drugs and alcohol and suffer depression – far, far above the normal rates- compared to the average Joe or Jane.
Look at the long-tern successes – do they do those things long term – resoundingly, no. They may falter, as we all do, but the ones successful across generations overcome it. They become less about themselves and more about the world we live in. They have staying power, and long term impact. Think about the ones most successful in the most visable field – entertainment. Bruce Springsteen, Bono, Susan Sarandon, Harrison Ford, to name just a few off the top of my head. No one agrees with everything they have done, or espouse, but they are respected, and have survived the soul-eating profession because of how they treat others, and themselves. They take others seriously, but they are the first to laugh at themselves.
At the end of each day, we have exchanged one day of our life, for something. We can’t get it back, or really make up for lost time. We can have urgency, live life with passion and priority, but we can’t get those days back. Like those chain- reaction TV commercials where someone sees someone do something for another, or for all – pick up some trash or help a person move something, so then they do a simple act of kindness too, and it spreads in ripples; President Kennedy’s Peace Corp., or Volunteers of America. Looking outward instead of inward becomes ingrained, and both the opportunities and the rewards multiply.
If you are waiting for someone to give respect to you, earn it by your words, by your actions – and the standards that you hold others too as well. Otherwise, it is a long wait for a bus that never arrives.
Enablers always suffer for their weakness. You take the first step – call out the media when they are disrespectful and the media will act respectfully. Call out a thug when he or she acts like a thug, and thugs will disappear. There is strength in numbers and numbers don’t lie.
"In Germany they came for the Communists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant, Then they came for me, and by that time no one was left to speak up." - Pastor Martin Niemoeller
If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, be worthy of imitation. Then, people see the example, and duplicate it. You can say that it is not that simple, but it is.
President of the United States. It is a lofty position. One that has not always been filled with honor, certainly, but one of high ideals. The media so often decries the lack of respect in the world, yet is the first to treat people disrespectfully if they do something the media deems wrong. Soon the line between wrong and a non-judgmental action have blurred. The disdain crosses from times of criticism, to all times. Instead of President Obama, we have Obama.
I certainly understood the negative backlash against President Bush. We went from the greatest economic boom in our history to nearing the worst. The Great Depression returns. Yet still, if you don’t respect the man, at least respect the office. It all boils down to that simple word, full of huge ideals. Respect, for others, and for ourselves. We get what we give. Like or not, respecting the office is a simple thing – the President has inspired the young for the first time in two generations. It is the first step, waiting for us to take the next.
If the CEO of your company does something you don’t like, you may grumble, but you don’t publicly disparage him or her. Even blogging about it can get you fired. Yet we disparage our President just in general conversation more often than we honor him or her. Calling someone by their last name is fine on a basketball court. It is a classless sign in the boardroom, or in politics.
We can’t seem to understand why other countries don’t get us. Our general lack of respect for each other is one huge reason, in all its meanings. I have many relatives in Canada and in Europe. Universally, they say, why do Americans treat each other (and folks who they are visiting) so boorishly? What has been done to them that is so horrible that they have they no respect?
We are a young country. Some say that immaturity is behind it. I disagree. The folks that came here had all the development of their own countries behind them. We are a country founded on vast emigration, most often to escape persecution or for better opportunities. We are persecuted, and leave, only to persecute others? That makes no sense. Don’t we learn from those kinds of things?
As kids, when we see something we like, we say “ I want to be like that when I grow up. When we see something, person or situation we do not like, we incorporate that into our modis operandi as well. Then, somewhere along the way, some folks lose sight of that – of what they wanted to be.
We will bypass someone hurt more often than help; disparage the sinner and disproportionally ignore the saint; take joy in others failures and pound our chests in our own successes, no matter how small. This is not competition, it is self-absorption – for Christ’s sake, act like you’ve been there before.
Respect gives you staying power, something with more life than one-hit wonders and flash-in-the-pan “celebrities”. Like life, you get out of it what you put into it. Treat others poorly, you may still succeed, but not for long. How many celebrities commit suicide, do drugs and alcohol and suffer depression – far, far above the normal rates- compared to the average Joe or Jane.
Look at the long-tern successes – do they do those things long term – resoundingly, no. They may falter, as we all do, but the ones successful across generations overcome it. They become less about themselves and more about the world we live in. They have staying power, and long term impact. Think about the ones most successful in the most visable field – entertainment. Bruce Springsteen, Bono, Susan Sarandon, Harrison Ford, to name just a few off the top of my head. No one agrees with everything they have done, or espouse, but they are respected, and have survived the soul-eating profession because of how they treat others, and themselves. They take others seriously, but they are the first to laugh at themselves.
At the end of each day, we have exchanged one day of our life, for something. We can’t get it back, or really make up for lost time. We can have urgency, live life with passion and priority, but we can’t get those days back. Like those chain- reaction TV commercials where someone sees someone do something for another, or for all – pick up some trash or help a person move something, so then they do a simple act of kindness too, and it spreads in ripples; President Kennedy’s Peace Corp., or Volunteers of America. Looking outward instead of inward becomes ingrained, and both the opportunities and the rewards multiply.
If you are waiting for someone to give respect to you, earn it by your words, by your actions – and the standards that you hold others too as well. Otherwise, it is a long wait for a bus that never arrives.
Enablers always suffer for their weakness. You take the first step – call out the media when they are disrespectful and the media will act respectfully. Call out a thug when he or she acts like a thug, and thugs will disappear. There is strength in numbers and numbers don’t lie.
"In Germany they came for the Communists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant, Then they came for me, and by that time no one was left to speak up." - Pastor Martin Niemoeller
If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, be worthy of imitation. Then, people see the example, and duplicate it. You can say that it is not that simple, but it is.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
American Ideals / Sportsmanship
Jontell Franklin, a senior basketball player from Milwaukee Madison, lost his mom last week to cancer. He decided to sit out his game against DeKalb a week later, after originally deciding to play. He arrived late, and since he wasn't on the game roster - the coach never thought Jontell would make it, the officials had to access a technical foul, giving DeKalb two foul shots. The player selected, Darious McNeil, walked up to the foul line - and bounced the ball, instead of shooting it. The official returned the ball for the 2nd foul shot, and Darius again missed on purpose.
McNeal said, "I did it for the kid who lost his mom. It was the right thing to do."
Life throw many lessons at us, too many of them are about winning at all costs. This will stay in the minds of those players long after their athletic careers are over. No one will remember the score, or probably even who won. But they will remember this, and be better human beings for it.
Class act DeKalb High, coach Dave Rohlman and Darius McNeal.
McNeal said, "I did it for the kid who lost his mom. It was the right thing to do."
Life throw many lessons at us, too many of them are about winning at all costs. This will stay in the minds of those players long after their athletic careers are over. No one will remember the score, or probably even who won. But they will remember this, and be better human beings for it.
Class act DeKalb High, coach Dave Rohlman and Darius McNeal.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Erin O'Brien's Blog
I read Erin's blog most days, Scene article most weeks. She did a Posh Portraits piece, where she wrote about the whole experience of a boudoir photo shoot. Her pictures were creative, and funny, as was the article. She calls her husband goat - dunno why, but he is a lucky guy. I like a lot of her writing - she is not afraid to say what she feels, wants, thinks - most papers wouldn't, and maybe in a law suit happy world, can't, print that honesty anymore. Most women don't have the confidence to say it either. Scene is often more innuendo than fact, but Erin's column is viewpoint, so it doesn't get lost in the headlines.
The fact that she does say what she thinks, and is not held back by what is "proper", is refreshing and intriguing. I don't always agree with her writing points, but we need more women like Erin O'Brien. The divorce rate would drop, the fights might even rise, but there would be a lot less miscommunication and a lot more honesty in this little world of ours.
The fact that she does say what she thinks, and is not held back by what is "proper", is refreshing and intriguing. I don't always agree with her writing points, but we need more women like Erin O'Brien. The divorce rate would drop, the fights might even rise, but there would be a lot less miscommunication and a lot more honesty in this little world of ours.
Monday, February 16, 2009
I look better going than coming
Her famous last words, and she just kept on going. Discussion was futile, and reassurance pointless. While she does have a spectacular ass, that wasn't the attraction - a voracious appetite for life and feeling things was. Now she is gone, flitting from one relationship, and one dramatic catastrophe, to another. I miss the curve of her hip against mine, her hair in my hands, her willingness to just get up and go anywhere and laughter that could peel at any time, in any place. She liked dangerous situations - not skydiving kind of danger, but edgy excitement, and doing things most girls wouldn't have the self-confidence to do. She'd walk naked through a crowd for the experience. Just after I saw her last, ending with that " I look better going than coming" comment, she guiltily emailed me goodbye, she was moving, and getting married - WHAT? She is gone, and I am still wondering, WTF just happened.
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