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mr. iD

Whip batteries at it

Don’t like it

grab it

Attack it

Got an itch, scratch it

See a mole, whack it

Hear a joke, laugh at it

Then steal it

Take credit for it

Take it

Put it

In a vault and latch it

DON’T GIVE IT

HOARD IT

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newborn’s song

I have a son; no daughter yet.

How long until we’re finally met.

What ancient jug will fill with water,

when child born, bear no regret.

If one is sea, and other land,

the first is heart and other head.

Fate will land a chancing blow,

a favored child will surely grow.

Existence be a fickle game.

If time should stop and never change,

a soulless fraction stood unsolved,

resumed amidst the newborn’s song.

 
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Posted by on June 24, 2017 in poetry, Uncategorized, writing

 
Link

Japan invented Ziggy Stardust

SOME CAT FROM JAPAN

THE GENIUS BEHIND DAVID BOWIE’S BEST COSTUMES

http://www.vice.com/read/some-cat-from-japan-0000228-v21n2?Contentpage=-1 

So apparently, a Japanese designer named Kansai Yamamoto basically invented the distinctive look of Ziggy Stardust and, in turn, became the spiritual predecessor of pop/rock and roll fashion…He also designs for Lady Gaga (which makes sense).  He’s kind of like a Japanese Andy Warhol (of fashion).

This rules, and it totally makes sense… And it’s cool that the Japanese played such an integral role in our pop culture at such an early time.  Remember, Ziggy Stardust was 1972… World War II ended in 1945.  They went from Bushido to Ziggy Stardust in less than 30 years.

 
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Posted by on February 18, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Video

My Favorite Phillip Seymour Hoffman Scene

 
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Posted by on February 2, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Jed from Arkansas

Curled up in your egg-crate bed, compulsively licking yourself, you don’t know, nor care, that your breath smells like the worst expired shellfish dinner known to man.  And let me tell you, it’s gotten worse.  Once it was more like a freshwater Tilapia, now it’s a full blown Louisiana mud-puppy.  You’ve got the strangest skin growths and, I won’t lie, they worry me a little bit.  There’s a really weird pink, bulbous one on your face. And you’ve got these weird white spots on your nose.

For the love of God man, stop licking yourself.

You hate thunderstorms worse than Kelly does but at least you love the snow.  And I love the way you army-crawl when you’re happy, although it makes your tummy dirty.  It makes your shamrock tag jingle against your rabies tag. And I’m super sorry about your nails being so long, I’m just afraid I’ll cut that little vein; you’ll bleed all over the place and I’ll have to bust out the cornstarch.  I will inevitably make a huge mess and have to bust out the vacuum which will inevitably blow a fuse and I’ll have to bust out the….. fuse box.

I often think about how your life would have gone if we hadn’t brought you up from Arkansas.  You definitely wouldn’t be seeing as much snow, so I’m sure you’re thankful for that.  Up here in New England you live a more….sedentary lifestyle.  I’m positive you’d be a bit more active down on whatever ranch or farm you lived on.  And that old guy Perry sure was something else, wrinkled to the bone but kind as all else.  He would have treated you just fine.  And you for sure would have had more friends to play with, though I know those big, hyper dogs make you a bit verklempt.  Maybe there would be less little kids in your life?  I’m not sure.

I’m sorry about that transition period a few years ago.  I know you were used to sleeping on the bed, and then Kelly and I got married and the man that used to be the fun Uncle that took you out to pee was now sleeping in your spot.  Please understand however that most dogs sleep on the floor and we did compromise by offering you the chair.  And, if I’m being really honest, that chair smells terrible now.  You should be thankful.

You know, if you keep on with the licking you’re not gonna have any hair left….

I still love ya though.

 
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Posted by on January 31, 2014 in writing

 

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Neurons and Synapses

It’s the sense of self that betrays
any contentedness.
What you think you are
or should be, or could be
doesn’t serve any purpose
but entertainment
and speculation.
People feed their ego
in different ways
but it’s not always
to glorify
the persona.
Sometimes it’s to feel like
you’re doing
your due diligence
or to re-approach the prophecies
proclaimed by the ones who claim to love you,
who don’t really know you
or want to know.

We get cold, you know,
and hardened to other’s imperfections;
their false analysis
of who you are or what you should be.
They don’t exist without you, or you them,
being exactly as you, or they, are
as you, or they, could not be
any other way.
And when you change and they don’t
or if you don’t and they do
don’t be afraid to point out
and confront
your utter and desperate confusion
as to why you can never meet
in the middle
like Benjamin Button.

After all this
what I really feel to be the truth
is that your brain
is a motherfucker.
Consider this:
Neurons and Synapses firing at irregular intervals
coupled with abnormal oxygenation and variable light, sound, scent and touch stimuli
leads to a potential for unorthodox behavioral interludes,
additionally perpetrated by periodic euphoria and delirium
which at times can be symptomatic with abnormal sleeping patterns,
inconsistent nutrition and dietary habits,
and situation driven emotional reactivity.

So, yeah, that’s why we’re crazy.

 
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Posted by on January 29, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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State of the Union

Stand. Sit. Applause. Stand. Sit. Applause.

I believe in the social welfare of the masses blah blah blah health care, people can’t pay their bills blah blah blah
Look at this veteran dude, his head looks funny because he got bombed for nothing and it’s our fault blah blah blah

Stand. Sit. Applause. Stand. Sit. Applause.

The most pressing issues of our time CAN’T be fixed by the government.  But the problem isn’t that people don’t like jazz or don’t go to museums or whatever.  The problem isn’t that people listen to Justin Bieber or watch Youtube too much.  It’s not some perceived lack of focus or intrinsic laziness. 

The problem is people think that they’re right.  Or more moral.  Or are better than another person.  That their existence, relatively compared to another’s, is more significant. 

I just had a teeth cleaning and an eye exam free because of Obamacare.  Does that mean that Obamacare works?  I have no fucking clue.  You can’t gauge that shit by some editorialized account of ONE person’s experience.  It’s not until 5, 10, 15, 50 years have passed that you have the benefit of historical hindsight.  And even then, that very hindsight means nothing because the situation that exists, theoretically, is completely different from the one you had 5, 10, 15, 50 years ago.  What did you learn? 

Well you didn’t learn nothing.  Congratulations, you can apply historical precedent to virtually ANY situation.

I just drove through Fall River and noticed that the streets are in absolute disrepair.  I noticed that any part of the city that has significant business activity almost certainly includes a McDonalds and a Dunkin’ Donuts.  Who’s fault is that?  I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!  And I don’t even know how to find out!  Someone tell me, who do I blame?  And before you answer, please consider that your answer will most definitely be wrong.  Why is it that I’ve only been able to find seasonal/temporary employment over the past 4 years? Again, YOU DON’T KNOW!

But let me tell you why.  It’s because I have depression.  It’s because I don’t know how to motivate myself.  It’s because I can’t, for the life of me, wake up before noon on any given day.  But am I the reason why there’s national discord?  Am I the symbol of an entitlement society or lazy millennials?  Either way, how does my unique situation contribute to the national debate?

It doesn’t. 

Polls are meaningless because people’s opinions are meaningless. 

We need to stop trying to figure this shit out.

 
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Posted by on January 29, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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F*CK your lawn

Overgrown you say?
Flowers, though wild, do not appeal
to your pristine senses?

I say,
maybe you’re wasting time
trimming your grass
daily.

Hmm?

I say,
maybe your yard,
your stupid yard
is boring
and lacks personality.

Hmm?

And maybe,
the ecosystem, living
under the ice
in my
above ground pool
is far more humane
than the chlorine factory
you keep in your backyard.

Hmm?

And maybe,
my bushes have
too many limbs,
no symmetry to them
at all,
but yours
piss me off
with their sculpted form.
Your vanilla arrangements
ain’t got nothing
on my
Rocky Road.
Bitch.

 
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Posted by on January 17, 2014 in cynical, poetry, Uncategorized

 

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Possession

Atop a gathering of pregnant pauses stands the glimmering pale light of the mystic man.  Healing sutras and incantations abound within the swirling soup of his consciousness though his modest dress balances the embellishment of his spirit.  

He appraises the specter lodged into the soul of the afflicted.  A wild display and a cresting burst of kinetic possession, the flailing of the limbs silences the crowd as he, step after step, glides closer to the source of the commotion.  His sandals barely touch the floor of impacted dirt.  Hands now outstretched, he gently places the heels of his hands upon the temples of the possessed.

“Amun-em, brother.”

A widening of eyes now appearing lidless, the afflicted plants his feet firmly and a quick grasp of his enemy’s wrists startles entranced spectators.  Although appearing to struggle with the taut pressure of twisted twine, indeed with elbows and knees trembling, His Holiness remains composed with the proof of The Blessing.

“Amun-em, I caress thy spirit…”

“Off, off, off, you servant! Thou hath no influence within this cloister!” as a violent exhortation.

Simply placing his thumbs over the eyes of the afflicted, the lids close as if by self-command and his knees relax as His Holiness leads him to a genuflect.

Presented now to the masses is a divine portrait.  The healer manipulates the will of the weak and hapless vagrant placed into a submissive form.  Blinding light bounds through film covered windows and illuminates this new scene of deliverance.

To the masses:

“Go now and recount what you have seen to all you meet.  Reach both hands towards the realm of gentle Amun and give everything of yourself to the divine.  Every moment has been written, every tale has been told, and you must live each day according to it’s will…”

“Amun-em, Bless you all…”

And then, like a host of dragonflies, he disappeared into the damp morning and forevermore became our waking breaths.

 

 
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Posted by on January 16, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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the hole

midnight delirium

distance tricks the human eye

deep into folly

 
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Posted by on January 15, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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