i am convinced the malaise and disinterest
i feel for life is shared by many more
people than we let on.

it is endemic.
most people have lost hope.

fixed the flat.
forgot to check the tire for embedded glass and had another flat.
nearly died avoiding glass again on the viaduct.

today we re-enacted the play and dance scene
from charlie brown's christmas.
i played snoopy.
it will be seen on national television.
i sniffed pigpens ass.

been busy.

took mother out for birthday sushi.
met rick mercer.
went to canada's poet laureate's house.
i recorded him reciting haikus on the tibook.
snuck in a coppola mine!
he ripped them to shreds.

an honour.

had a flat tire

they say that spinach is the mainstay
of the very brawny sailorman, Popeye.

so,
obviously i've got fuck all to say.

here blogger, blogger, blogger...
c'mon, here blogger, blogger, blogger!

schlaffzits
schlaffsitz

oh man, this humming is driving me insane!
always in the left ear.

good morning america

god is great

is it possible to do ascii art on a blog?
i made some sheep but they dissolve
after they are posted.

all praise to allah

betelnut beauty
motorcycles and rebels
and rebels all ways

can you hear winter
blanket and suffocating
way down the valley

* * *

solemn and serene
brook zig-zags stone and crevice
prodded by rainfall

* * *

sullen and serene
the goth hangs around archways
wait for excitement

fractured and un-innocent
the poverty stricken reek of grief
and yellow clothes
and heaven knows this was not
what was intended on that intimate
glorious morning made public
tolling from all towers
wooden, stone and glass
by the all knowing spectacle
of ribbon lies and promising rings
not what was meant by the proclamation
"and the cheek may apple the earth"
its now left broken only to be fixed
by what broke it
the destroyer of all things
the racing hand of seiko
and the measure of einstein.

i once knew this guy with skinny, bottomless legs
it was all we could do to hold him down
moreover with a spoon tightly capped to the lip
one lass referred to the boy as "pemmican pete"
and it stuck; tight and betwixt the legs!
ole lambchop, rosemary and thigh.

as you slide down the chairs and down the halls
and bannisters and up the walls
you stick to the ceiling your smile has never
been so wide

and as you wide out the door
and over the hill and down to the candystore
the shape on your lips is often mistaken for
happiness unjaded, crappiness and lonely faded
curtains you tied peering down
the halls and scare-crazy malls
glazed like basketballs feeling more like medicine balls

its your own way

as you slide down the halls and down the walls
and up the turnpike and left on the street
your in the middle of a pancake meeting
now there's a house full of swastikas
making a lonely mess of a good man's life
and everyone is crying out to your own way.

um,
now i can crumple up the paper page and throw it away.
one page a die.

werd.

back in the shadows of the lofty willow
when half its size
this camosun
place where camas is gathered
glass and metal edifice
was once a dreamy-dandelion lot
with swings and annexes
where the cripples once played
trapped, institute
unable to scale the cement walls
clamoured to morning glory
beneath the willow
that would allow a free child to frivolously
swing out, over
this silent orphaned dream
and back
to run, skip, two wheels
to tricycle away to broomed hills
one could gaze distant
to Baker
when she still burned bright.

Hollow like the four walls around me
As blank and their surface bare
Gut feels sunk, bottomless
As a hidden chamber beneath
I walk down a hall lit by night stars
Down paint-thinned, creaky stairs
Step into the moonlight
Laying everywhere, broken feathers, broken cups
And fishing wire threads throughout all
Tight pulling strewn scraps
Coiled and wrapped, kept in place
A strained guise, this anarchy mess
It doesn't help i'm depressed
But to kick this can and get caught up
On your knees
I feel i wait, like pray
Buckled from fear for what?

this is enough for me. schlaffsitz.

i'm just sitting here backing up my F drive
figured i'd blog a bit.
actually just documents off my C for now.
F takes about an hour and i'll do that when i leave.
its 4:32 am.

that's life.


back hurts a bit.
eyes sore and red.
getting old and haggard.

crucial prohom blog.

come to think of i haven't written a song in almost 2 years.

would you say bananas
are fibrous,
or creamy?

apparently,
i have sublimated my anger,
rage,
into and against myself
and i cannot help it.

* * *

films seen:
Russian Ark
Demonlover
Divine Intervention
Irréversible
Ten
Biggie and Tupac

can't wait to see:
Japón
Morvern Callar

so busy

so tired