in the last few days it seems that DC has turned into our collective reflection pool. it’s the world wide web version of that lake in front of the washington monument. we can look at the lake to see what we could see just by picking up our heads, but sometimes we prefer to [...]
our reflection pool
yet another use for a dead coyote.
here is a little press about some fellows (and ladies) i used to roll with in STL.
seriously, he is right in the middle off bunny hopping a dead coyote.
this is where more photos (plus info about the shinanagins at hand (and double plus info about lots more unrelated shinanagins)) can be found
and here [...]
a last ditch effort…
just think what you’re going to miss john…
courtesy of fiddy, we got a little blanket in a bottle.
see you in tucson.
open letter to big johnny
dear big john…
i used to have so much respect for you (and by “so much respect” i mean very little respect), but after our recent communication all the respect is gone. when i sent you that message asking “what are your plans for the old pueblo” you responded with nothing. then, when [...]
poem for Thursday…
The Wagon
I sat in the front seat,
she was driving.
On a small back road
we passed an Idaho farm.
Mostly dust now, and sparce brown grass.
There was a broken, withered wagon
abandoned in the front yard.
Now midday sun blasting the shadows out,
just gone in the brightness.
Every crack and busted plank
of that wagon was illuminated.
I saw myself in this.
Much older, [...]
looker.
hey jaun,
quit looking at my boner, it makes me feel uncomfortable.
this picture was taken on my recent trip to fossil creek. i was in Flagstaff on my week off and the wonderful wife and i spent some days down by the river.
i am heading back on the road today, more posts to come, along [...]
poem for thursday.
Nowhere to be.
The crowd is closing in,
grouping like a stockyard.
Elbows are bumping,
some hand grazed my hip.
The air is getting thicker, and stale.
Breathing, labored.
I’m close to panting.
My palms are sweating, more
than my armpits.
I keep wiping them on
the front of my jeans.
The pocket seams are moistening,
almost damp, like a San Francisco awning.
I try to move forward, then [...]
things are good…
i have been busy. i drive around a lot and do my best to make people happy (or at least not mad), and i dont get hair cuts (that is turning out to be a big problem, my hair looks terrible (and by that i mean more terrible than usual)). and most of all i [...]
citrawipe. from heaven or hell?
jaun grande and i were sitting around over at drunk-cyclist HQ when we heard the familiar sound of the postman. we looked at each other and immediatly the anticipation of what lay in the black metal box at the curb covered the both of us in goose-pimples. there was a padded envelope inside, and inside [...]
poem for thursday
Signature Move
I went home for a funeral.
My Grandfather just died,
and the weekend was going to be difficult.
Troy thought it might cheer me up.
Sure he was 50 and fat
and his tan looked cancerous,
but it really was Snuka,
grinding it out for Midwest Renegade Wrestling.
After a few under cards Snuka took the ring.
He won, of course.
He even did [...]
recently i went to austin…
recently the wife and i went to austin to share in the ever so pleasant nuptials of two friends. this is us (mostly me) on the plane at 430am:
when you take the red eye you get there early. then you should start drinking. the breakfast (maybe it was a lunch) place [...]
poem for thursday…
Sunday Afternoon
We were laying in the warm
green grass of our backyard.
Sort of shaped like a right angle.
My hand holding hers gently
between our shoulders.
Both our elbows crooked and my fingers
brushing her hand, barely.
Her softness I could smell.
“What do you want for dinner?”
She casually asked.
“I’ve never loved you more.”
I quietly whispered
towards her ear.
Poem for Thursday – A Walk on Sunday
more childhood trauma and injury. lately i have been on a roll.
A Walk on Sunday
Between Crondolet and Forsyth, on Meramec,
we could walk on top of a planter box.
It was granite and grey.
It started low and got higher
as the sidewalk gently strayed downhill.
At about three and a half feet
Daniel lost his balance.
It was only a [...]
first of all…
jonny’s monday was so happy he posted that at 9:03 pm.
maybe you should get out of bed a little earlier jon. i mean come on, you have a family, and a job (actually, i’m not sure you still have a job after sleeping through it yesterday).
anywho, did you guys hear about this.
fucking 6-day at [...]
pineapple’s poem for thursday – The Hemophiliac
The Hemophiliac
I don’t think that you can stop the bleeding.
All that pressure you muster
is only making things worse.
The blood is beginning to puddle
and the color in his face is fading.
“Somebody call 911.”
It is the same thing today
as it was yesterday.
He should have stayed home.
He should have stayed home.
Thursday’s Poem – Butter or pie
i know that i put this up as a “prose-ish poem” a few monthes ago, but i just reworked it and now it is a regular poem. so here it is again and i am the one writing this post so i can do what ever i want.
Butter or pie
We left Portland early.
By 8am, [...]
let us not forget…
Judging for the Mustache Contest is Friday night at Pay n-Take. 7pm sharp.
Come for the mustaches. Stay for the glory.
poem for thursday.
Lessons of our Childhood
Remember the time the three of us
played crack the whip
and Greg crashed his bike so bad
he had to go to the hospital?
That moldy old rope we were using
got all wrapped up in his front wheel.
Our quiet neighborhood street shook
with thunder when he slammed the pavement.
I ran into tell Mom.
She scooped him up [...]
(not really) a poem for thursday.
Glorious Days Abound.
Getting the potato cannon out was a really good idea. We had been drinking for a couple of hours and had like 15 extra potatoes, and besides it was still too early to go to the bar. The first few hit the fence with a huge bang, frankly I’m surprised [...]
here is a fun fact…
big jonny is a in-line-sex-machine.