the shit beneath the fridge

This is the question. I won’t beat it under the fridge, the place you’ve been meaning to clean but never do. Why should you? It is disgusting, but who the hell sees it. My question to you, WHY? Why do you build a wall into a home, brick by brick, then let underneath the fridge go lousy. Why do I sit in this damn basement and pretend I know what I’m doing. Someday, I say it will matter. My name, is it something now, to me. It’s the birth name I was given. I play it like Cher and tweak it like Madonna, but I keep Vito and Carmella in my thoughts. Single names do not slow the world down. It is nice pretending for awhile, until the day arrives when you pound your head on the kitchen table trying to scare up the next big creative idea. Your throbbing skull is parallel with the floor–you see disgusting, grey fluffy shit under the fridge.

This is the question. You decide you’re going to clean beneath the fridge. WHO? Who will move the icebox from the spot where its metal weight has rooted down the corners. How much crap is actually under there. Is any of it alive. Does it matter. You will get a burly friend to help you. Or a thin-armed neighbor with a hand truck. Perhaps, emboldened by the decision to clean, you decide to pull its immensity away from the wall all by yourself. Crap. The wall behind the fridge will also have to be cleaned. That’s right. There is always something you didn’t plan for. But while the frigid monstrosity is vulnerable, it makes the utmost sense to scrape the wall scum off too. The fridge won’t miss its 5 o’clock shadow.

This is the question. You’ve gone and done it. Beneath the fridge is as fresh as a baby’s bathed bottom and you have accomplished a grand feat. There is power in your muscle and clean pride in your dirty soul. You can take on the world or any number of small creative endeavors. These little bursts of artful energy might just have walls of scum behind them. Imagine how you might feel, reaching those walls. WHY? Why didn’t you just clean beneath the damn fridge all those years ago when you first noticed the shit beneath it.
black-vampalienAnd this person (who has admittedly not cleaned beneath her fridge) has created vamp/alien no 4 – dark as a fridge’s underbelly, where no sun can shine

 

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I need crap, but eyes can’t see it

I needed to see the stars this morning desperate to dream with my eyes open. The moon too, as I was being quite demanding. But neither moon or stars presented themselves to me. The sky was trampled beneath a mosh pit of cloud crap. I stood there disappointed and aggravated over these sky-high brighteners failing to lift me in my time of neediness. I grew pissed in fact, at the audacity of mother earth to disappoint one of her own good-natured tenants. I’m the guy trying to keep happy up, up, up, and I’m looking up, up, up at a shitty sky. Fuck, I don’t deserve this. I’m so wonderful and should have stars whenever I need them.

While sulking for a well-deserved miracle, my brilliant Dachshund speaks to me in the dark morning cold. No not really. Someone was talking though. She was saying how I don’t appreciate the stars enough to see them. The stars and moon are ever-present. They haven’t been vanquished, my vision has. My ability to see beauty on the floor when its trampled beneath a mosh pit of crap. I should close my eyes and see whatever it is I need to lift my spirits. No one, hell not even a brilliant Dachshund, can do this for me. Good as I force my heart to be, I am not that good. There are selfish thoughts brewing and I blow them out like candles on a cake I covet.

I stand in awkward silence, having just been berated by an old-school friend. I allow her voice clarity and give into the honesty of this truth. I don’t appreciate all that is. There is a gorgeousness about this place, past the mosh pit of crap. No one can take the stars or moon from my eyes. Or yours. I adore nasty Dachshund breath, even though I loathe it. Mojo is warm and sweet. We are all blessed with the brilliant night sky, regardless of what transpires daily below it. There is up and we need to focus our vision there.

Now I am happy. It is time to take my son to school. He is a driver-in-training so he’s behind the wheel. We are cruising by a student who’s walking to school. A football falls from his backpack but goes unnoticed by him. In my pleasant beautiful calm, I roll down the passenger window and call out to the boy. While doing this my anxious arm swings out, pointing to the football behind him. Here, my eyeglasses go flying out the window. My son pulls the car over at the first opportunity. I leap out and sprint to find my glasses flattened. Damn

And I thought my vision was cured after my morning epiphany. Sometimes what can you do, but suck it up, cry or chuckle.

features

features

I wrote this at 6 am but decided to post in the pm. I didn’t listen or watch live inauguration coverage. I read President Trump’s speech just awhile ago online. Next to last paragraph of his speech had an uncanny ring. Hmm, I wonder what it all means…😉

“And whether a child is born in the urban sprawl of Detroit or the windswept plains of Nebraska, they look up at the same night sky, they fill their heart with the same dreams and they are infused with the breath of life by the same Almighty Creator.”

Goodnight, Gracie…

leave it to a cartoon pig

trying to get at something
I can’t quite reach from the ground
there is no sleeping in slumber
no resting for the restless
hurriedly living to stamp personal honors on crowded individuality
some methodically hiding to avoid the same
embracing or effacing, the certain weightlessness of our heavy conclusion
this finite fact of our infinite fiction
depending on where the cord has been cut
a lifeline, a noose, a kite string
we enter
we exit

“…that’s all folks”
(leave it to a cartoon pig to shame us into reality)

Peppermint Pigs

Peppermint Pigs

 

know, knowing, knew

I don’t ever know what I mean
I don’t ever mean what I say
does that help
if you know me
you’d know
I miss knowing
not knowing what it was
I never knew
about you
I hope you’re following
me right now
are you
or is this too
confusing
this not knowing
makes me a bit blue
not stockings around the neck blue
just sad, quite sad
knowing you’re out there
floating
makes things better in here
“clever girl”
that’s what the hatted Jurassic Park hunter utters
before velociraptors enjoy their steak tartar
let’s backup
start over
I’m tired of searching
not knowing

I’m tired of marching forward
time does not play fair

can you follow this
me?

I speak in tongues
forked

no one can know
not even me
follow?
or are you as confused
as I am

swirl skating

swirl skating

’tis Fried Day and the brain has not escaped the frying pan fire this week – happy weekend – thank you