i’m such a fool,
and life in all of it’s infinite majesty,
seems to offer so many chances
to prove that

what never ceases to amaze me (although i do hope to rectify this behavior sooner rather than later, and thus negate its ability to amaze me) is the fact that when i have the proper motivation; be that alcohol, boredom, or just a surge of jester related impulses; i am capable of approaching almost anyone and saying almost anything.

There is something inside that i have always recognized
but have been frightened to admit
a part of me that i am scared of
and wish wasn’t there

i think all of us have this little man
this devil on our shoulder
but mine actually showed himself to me
in a photo

i lost sleep after finding him
and my dreams were unsettled
i was worried that he was trying to get out
or at least come to the surface

She looked better than she had before she’d gone -
the third employee from my workplace to spend time in a mental institution since October - she looked happy, looked like she’d been losing weight and was actually taking time to worry about the whole ‘personal hygiene’ issue.

i can’t write anything
my brain won’t slow down to the point where any one thing
can come to clarity
in my consciousness

i’m standing in the middle of a field
butterflies all around my head
and i don’t know which one
i want to catch

i don’t really know if i want to catch any of them,
butterflies have already been through
one profound metamorphosis
and seem primed to turn into something else entirely
once they have been gathered by my net

When you devour 700+ pages in less than twenty-four hours and your dreams take a turn of such tangential oddness that a careful consideration of the themes involved leads you somewhat surprisingly, yet inexorably, back to the bound stack of paper that first entered your awareness as Mark Z. Danielewki’s House of Leaves; well, when that happens . . . you know that you’ve encountered something special.

I was reminded today how disconcerting it can be when someone dies. Often people are unaware of the influence that they hold in the world and would probably be shocked to discover the true ramifications involved in their lives.

For instance, today I dragged the Jester out of bed at an hour at which his eyeballs would normally be enjoying the company provided by the back of his eyelids. With only the promise of a hearty lunch he was so kind as to offer his help in moving some of the excess baggage that I have accumulated in my basement to a friend of mine’s house for a garage sale.

Windows are what we use
to look out at the world
from our place of protection

we put up these walls to keep out the cold
or keep the cold in
but we can not tolerate
confining our sight

what comes through these windows
what insights do we get by looking out

i will curl up in the light
and sleep peacefully today
stretch out and enjoy the sunbeams

flinging serendipitous dornicks out of a metaphysical field

and occasionally coming across things that cannot be moved

is there anything of value that can be taken from my actions friday evening; the ones i can remember that is . . .

well, i do have these stories . . . bits and pieces of strangely cushioned reflections that i’ve cross-referenced with the friend who witnessed my behavior that evening

i remember taking a guy-wire to the face as i ran, right across the jaw,
puffed my lip up all to hell, my upper gum was black and blue the next morning

What a strange experience; hopefully this isn’t one of those entries that reek of ‘things which happen in my world and have no real bearing on anyone else’s life’ which contaminates so much of the blogosphere, (you know what i’m talking about). In truth there is a fairly significant portion of my mind that doesn’t want to share the event that I am preparing to report, but in the interest of continuing to consider myself an enlightened human who isn’t afraid to admit anything, I present the following tale; take from it what you will.

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i love language, this strange collection of sounds and scribbles that join forces to allow for humanity to express itself to . . . well ultimately to itself (and imperfectly at that) . . . at any rate, this language thing never ceases to amaze me.

language is one of those things that you can give far too much thought to, and walk away more befuddled than you were when you started your exploration. language is fundamental to our human experience and, apart from humanity itself, about the most fascinating thing our world has to offer.

This particular book was so good that I’m a bit of quandary as how to begin this review. In truth, I finished Robert Hellenga’s Philosophy Made Simple almost a week ago, and have been sitting on this review, uncertain of the best tactic to encourage all interested parties, or indeed to spark interest in those disinterested, to read this.

It always surprises me how nice it is
to sleep outside
and wake with the earth

and last night was cold
to say it lightly

eight hours of dream filled sleep
and having the birds as an alarm clock
make coffee a needless thing

feet wet with dew
and eyes bright with the morning sun
I was even able to beat the kids out of bed
which is never an easy task of late

today was a wonderful day
a day filled with rain

today was a day filled with the wonder
of a small child exploring the endless opportunities
of an automatic umbrella
and the angles that water makes
when it is stomped on

today was a day in which i really was a toys r us kid
as if i never grew up
and peered in each puddle
searching for worms
and other marvels

sometimes you look out at the world
and you see a trade-off that can be made
a bargain that can be struck . . .

my apologies if this
- pregnant pause -
seems diabolical

that’s your own fault
(somewhat mine now)

but what else is it really . . .
to be living?

and understand that i’m not prepared to -
(uncertain if i’ll ever bother to - )
attempt a refutation of the influence
of fate
but your life is a series of choices

I listen to four scanners at work. Each scanner searches through a bank of channels for police, fire, ems and other assorted emergency frequencies.

There is rarely a moment of silence at my desk. And I can’t just tune this cacophony out. At the very least I have to tune in enough to notice when something “newsworthy” is talked about.