When in doubt, GUNZ BLAZE!

Ahoy,

Hello there, it seems in a single hour I have aged a hundred years. Class trickles on with all the roaring speed of Mr. Bean and somehow I'm losing the ability to use mine. Spose that's why i am rapping at you in the first place, lord knows I don't come at when I've got other things going on. (Note: I am juggling flaming penguins carrying knives with liquid explosives coarsing in their veins).

Morning cracks
unhinged like common loons,
smooth and azul
calling me a fool,
Me believing it and thinking it must have a point.
After all it usually does (breakfast).

Light and Panes
light pains
small gains
stay in my lane
train
in vain
like a common loon.

It sits there, festering like a fat fig in the blistering sun,
and I can't be done
can't run.
I look at these hands
their lines both long and crackled,
worked and loves running in directions that only they know;
but I defer to them, always have.

Our House, In the Middle of Our Street.

Hey all,

There is something to be said for sitting in ones bedroom for over an hour at least something more than you would suppose. It seems like, and maybe this is just (absolutely is) me talking, but once you hit that hour thresh hold, you get this ability to start seeing things. If your like me, and you probably are more than you think (word of advice: CANCEL SUBSCRIPTION TO SHAPE MAGAZINE) you have decorations in your room. Decorations defined as posters, photos,posters,model airplanes, signed poster of the cast from X-files (and by signed poster I mean the autograph of the guy who photo shopped Gillian Anderson into a bikini revealing a little more than paranormal activity) [ed. note- if you can think of a way to turn paranormal activity into a breast joke other than paranormal acTITity, let me know], etc. etc. This being the case and as I'm not in my room much as a result of my staggering amount of female callers/trying to figure out how to play "Everlong," on the guitar, my room truly fades into a dull roar of blues, yellows and mildly offensively positioned women.

However, when you hit the magical hour mark, and really there is no reason for you to do that save NOT studying or preparing something that you should for all intents and purposes be doing (and here I'm aware that taking down the Gillian Anderson probably qualifies) but when you hit it ,the room fades in from scene left. You start to notice things and I'll give you a concrete example. I simply did not know that I had this...
actually hanging up in my room. I had forgotten I ever listened to Savoy Brown. A tragedy to be sure.

This is not to say that you, dear reader, are anywhere close to as unobservant as me. In fact as I type I'm sure you finding Waldo in places he was never thought to be found again (although he probably should stop hiding in Middle Ages Battles for Castles that always the first place I look) and tying people shoes so they don't/do trip over their shoelaces. You Samaritan you.

In essence I suppose it reminds me, and you eagle eye, that rooms and lives deserve and demand constant attention or threaten to leave you striving and moving in a sea of gray. Forever condemned to watch everything and see nothing. If that's what you want, watch PAX.


Not as condescending as I may read because you've probably all been down the same road as me and it's difficult for me to think sometimes so lay off and get your own blog Melville,
A.J.S.