Friday, May 20, 2005
Remind me to tell you about this theory of mine. I'm still working on it but the gist of it is that laziness is, above all, a symptom of poor re-creational habits/history. And I'm talking about re-creation in the sense of recreating oneself, filling one's soul back up, etc. I'm going for a sort of play hard/work hard thing here. Being lazy isn't the same thing as being tired or being exhausted. If you don't replenish yourself with experiences that bring you to a state of excitement about life and being alive, then you're going to be discouraged and disillusioned and not want to work to achieve better and better states and qualities of recreational experience.
It needs a little work, but you see what I'm getting at, right?
This is the most entertaining email I may have received all year (discounting hate mail of course).
I've been meaning to write a poem based on but just haven't gotten around to it yet. Maybe this will remind me to do so one day when I can't concentrate on what I really should be doing at the time.
Date: Sat, 09 Apr 2005 02:04:32 +0200
From: "j Crowley Corporation"
Subject: Four beautiful matches
4 unfaithful wives have been matched for you in your area:
1: Courtney, 129 lbs, 5'8, 36c, 5 miles away, available most nights (husba=
nd works midnights)
2: Jasmine, 133 lbs, 5'5, 36d, 14 miles away, available April 9-13
3: Alyssa, 136 lbs, 5'8, 34b, 7 miles away, available APR 11-15
4: Hannah, 121 lbs, 5'8, 36c, 25 miles away, available most week nights ( =looking for side-fling)
All 4 women are waiting to speak with you live & have photos. Webcam's are=available for all 4.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Aftermath, Inc. (second draft)
Perceptions muddled on strange swampy plain
where reality and nightmare bleed together
one mind-numbing minor chord
pushed us scrambling for earplugs
As shock waves subsided
an awkward huddle stood shivering
a cluster of rubbed raw nerves exposed
clinging in profound contemplation
slopping about in the puddles of random tear detonations
throbbing with pathos in the wake of lost vibrancy
The truth was hard enough to fathom without confirmation of the HAZMAT crew sighting
“What did it say?” (I insisted they repeat the words.)
“The side of the truck said Aftermath, Inc.”
I had not heard wrong.
But surely, this was a creepy B movie
a hallucination, an inspired one, but not reality. Not true.
Too frigid an umbrella for those who’ve performed so intimately
Weeks later
still seeking truth
I find the clean up company online
an awkward new age pulse of music plays
defining titles sliding across my screen
and I wonder
Is there a lot of competition to land the worst jobs in the world?
remediating rooms. decontamination. easing trauma – safe, subtle words on the home page
deeper within the hard ones hit -- homicide. suicide. unattended deaths. crime scene. meth labs. feces. blood borne pathogens. medical waste.
Wading in the fall out of destruction
certified strangers had touched the reality we could not bring ourselves to imagine --
because we did not want to because we did not need to…
We don’t need to hear the whole song to know that it sucks.
We don’t need look to directly at the sun to see the shadows of its light, to feel the warmth of its rays. And our eyesight must be protected --
there are precious memories to curate,
and influential forethoughts to cultivate.
