Thursday, January 28, 2010

Somewhere some time.





On the plain of Nazca I stood and
waited for alien transport.
I lit a cigarette
and stared thinking
somewhere
some time
they've got to come.
I burrowed into the
sheepskin coat I had purchased
outside Cuzco
and stared at my companions.
El Ficuna was an eighty year old black man
with a habit of saying' whatever floats your boat'.
his daughter, Maria Conchesa Ribaldo smoked a pipe
and swore continually
"fuck you you old fart"
There were several others; a teacher from Lancaster Pennsylvania, a retired auto worker from Michigan, a Baptist pastor from Kennebunkport.
We had been promised salvation from this planet by an alien ship that would whisk us to another planet. The person who made this promise had collected our money in the hotel lobby and shown us blurry pictures of what he said were irrefutable proof of
the alien landings.
The guidebook said he was a notorious fake but was worth the money to go to the plains. I knew I shouldn't have dropped acid but I did anyway.
I kept thinking about the lime in coconut song. Something about el Ficuna made think of that commercial on TV years ago and the voodoo quality of the actors voice.
"Hey this is fucking bullshit."
Maria Conchesa was staring at me.
Her face was twisting slightly and had the slight cartoon quality that a good hit of acid can impart on those near you.
"What's wrong with you, you haven't said a word in like an hour?"
"You put the lime in the coconut and stir it all AROUND." I sang my response and then started giggling uncontrollably. I laughed so hard I had to lay down.
"Damn white boy is out of his gourd, maybe them aliens are around here." She took a drag off her pipe.
She had nice legs and from my vantage point I could look right up her skirt and see
her panties. Not that I cared, my whole body felt like rubber where i could feel anything and I had that odd LSD taste in my mouth. I realized I was still laughing and stopped.
Far off across the plain there were small dark figures waving at us.
"I wonder who those people are.' No one had mentioned them. I had seen them for a while, way off in the distance and hadn't thought anything about it.
The sun was shining very brightly and there was maybe one or two small clouds against the dark blue of the high altitude sky.
"Hey, who are those people over there? " I asked no one in particular.
"What people?" The auto worker from Michigan asked me, sounding concerned. Like he was thinking the banditos were coming with machetes to butcher us out here on the cold plain, steal our money and probably bugger us.
"Over there, right there. See? They keep waving."
The others crowded around.
"Where?"
"I don't see any one."
"Me neither."
"what are you talking about? There's no one over there."
They all wandered off except Maria who lay down and used my back as a pillow.
I was laying on my stomach watching the small figures.
"You don't see them either?" I asked her.
She laughed.
Her head felt good resting on my back. The sun was too bright against the ground.
The small figures were dancing around in the distance, occasionally waving at me.
'Maybe I'm seeing trees or bushes or something, I thought although there weren't any growing on the plain.
"I'm going over there." I told Maria.
"Over where the "People" are? She asked.
"Yeah. Over where the people are."

Sunday, January 17, 2010

I dreamt that I was insane. And everything I did
in the dream was tinged with an electric
unreality.
Wandering from scene to scene- I don't remember any of them except the first:
sitting naked in public and thinking about a certain friend
who it would be awkward to have see me like that and
of course this person immediately
showed up.
And the last when I awoke to find myself
not insane
like dreaming about getting all kinds of fantastic things
and then waking and realizing you don't have them.
Rain dripping down
outside.
Over a pork roast
meditation in schools
was discussed
I didn't mention meditation in prison
the pork roast was delicious.

Juicy fruit painting and dog shit shoes

I am sleeping without sheets
in the middle of
a raining day. They
say that it's an el nino
event.
My stomach wanders from worried
to more worried. It doesn't seem worth it, to
worry so. I don't know why I do it and I can't seem to stop.
I hear the tap tap tap of the water dripping by my window and
a young neighbors muffled voice. She's saying something but I'm not
sure what it is. they must be outside smoking.
I let her borrow one of my paintings.
I came home very drunk, threw up in the back yard and got dog shit on
both shoes. I didn't notice until the next afternoon.
In between I let her borrow the Juicy fruit painting.
She told me later they don't package it like that any more.
She tried to buy Juicy fruit gum but it wasn't the same.
I bought new shoes, the same kind and put the dog shit ones in the
box and left them on the street. The next
day just the lid of the box was there.
Sunday morning
laying in bed
drank three bottles of wine
with the pork roast
last night
talked about creme colored tuxedos
and shoes that come with the rentals
smoked numerous cigarettes
with the window open onto Clement St.
a light breeze blew the smoke back
at us. talked about seeing Mike Doughty do a show
in Latrobe (where they make Rolling Rock)and
listened to his songs "from his heroin years".
Dan's sister is working for Family Guy now
she's a go getter but they plan for her to be a writer
They said Danny was all over Shannon
That's why I don't let him hang out any more
He doesn't understand the social landscape
The plan is to have a window duck party
and do a wine tasting to choose the wine for the wedding.

Monday, January 04, 2010

returning from swillville
he looked like a character from
a bad saturday morning cartoon
the bad guy
with silver tonic
grey hair
I know, I'm no fun anymore, my paintings don't talk
I just buy expensive old guitars
and wish my foot didn't feel like rubber
I sleep too much
exercise to infrequently
think too much
share too much and too little
I looked at the pictures and thought
what the fuck where is the joy ha ha
I'm not making this shit up
it's as real as a fucking deer tattoo on a hipster's ass.
stay now dear lady
let the light in
wait for the sound of the train
take the dog for a walk
drink a Pepsi
blow the futile horn
for all the lost souls