Tuesday, February 25, 2025

 Growing up I had a friend whose mom raised Persian cats.
She must have had 30 or 40 of them. I thought they were ugly with their pushed in faces and there was cat hair everywhere. 
She had a little transistor radio on top of the refrigerator and she kept it tuned to a country and western station. 
Yuck. 


 

 I could go see D.

But I'd just end up getting fucked up.
We'd get high and watch weird tv.
I'd spend hours there until I figured he probably wants me to leave, that's why he put that shitty music on.
I'm not real good at taking a hint. 
La dee da

 The sun is too fucking bright out

I fucking hate that.
It's like living in LA.
Or Arizona or some shit.
Fuck that.
I live here because it's supposed to be all foggy.
Foggy SF.
With evening foghorns blasting in the distance.
One time a foghorn was so loud it sounded like the ship was two blocks away.
I swear to God.

 The creatures ate the wide eyed ladies

they had no sympathy 
did you see the dress on that one?!
She tasted pretty good!
 They moved on to the next town

 I got nothing to do

so I smoke cigarettes
read books
play guitar
I like to play guitar
I record it and add other instruments 
all on my phone
It doesn't sound bad
I'm definitely not a great musician 
most of it is downright not good
but I keep at it
some of it's not bad
that's the best I can say

 I flew in a double decker airplane in 1972

We went to Milwaukee to visit the grandparents.
In the back of the plane was a large circular staircase.
It led up to a piano bar. A piano bar on an airplane.
A man was playing the piano and people were smoking and drinking Tom Collin's and Gimlets and other assorted drinks. People were all well dressed and there was much gaiety.

 I don't feel real

I don't know
It's weird
 nothing seems real

 I wore a phony smile

all the world had become slightly odd
pills they gave me for my blood
had changed my brain
I trudged through life
legs like cement
the doctor kept prescribing more pills
"I'm worried about the..."
smoking and drinking probably didn't help
It ain't romantic
I boozed to forget it all
but then I got tired of it
Yuck booze
I drank so much 
every night
and did nothing much
so I quit 
And now I do nothing much but sober

 I heard a foghorn last night

off in the distance
  It sounded like it was 1969
I was in bed smoking
   with the window open

 The stars were put there for me

   I called out but the reply
was a gaggle of geese
I walked on
  I wonder if the Chinese place is open?
Kung Pao chicken waits for no man

 I moved like a broken cowboy 

   in a porn movie
my mustache was like the seventies
   I had no ADHD
   no pancake driven dreams
Leather chaps 
  and a corvette 
yellow and dripping oil

Monday, February 24, 2025


 

 There was no sigh of relief.

Cars were everywhere. The music played and played.
Some kind of African guitar and drums and some shaky thing. It went on and on.
Outside the sun poked through. A bus went by.
 His chakras were not aligned.
Birds chirped. 
The streets were wet.
African music played.
He was not in Africa.

 The cafe played Soweto street music.

 The hobo said

"It's another day. Nothing special about it."
As he drank his latte.

 









 I don't know nothing

I got a handle
on you
you're nothing
But I don't know you
Say la vee 
Je m'apelle Pinche 
  what's your name
  Bright Skies?
   Solemn Swine?
I just dunno
 I drank sake yesterday
 It cost one dollar
  at that price 
   who could say no?
     Everybody else
     but it was fun
    It's nice to drink booze
Occasionally