Another Flash Journal but in less than 20...ugh

8-7-12 Flash bing bong zoom: I may have cheated on my time for this flash entry but oh well. Who in their right realm will know about this? The butt rockers across the street are doing the musical equivalent of baking a cake…that’s right cover band express. Sweet Home Alabama drifts across the lawns with old cat shit beyond the cracked sidewalks. Is it real or Memorex and what is it like to have stage clothes and to say phrases like “Let’s go get some pussy”. If I am not going to be reincarnitated as a cat how about a butt rocker of some kind, not the older pudgy version but one that applies to that small percentage.

Not sure why but I cannot focus and the last few moments of my drive, mainly in town, I felt off. Bright spot and someone rushed up and honked on me. Hmm if they knew my silly phone call would that change it all? Nope if a lady getting smushed accordion style probably for no good reason has no effect than no, just no. I read an article for work and I wonder who writes this shit? No insight, nothing even remotely entertaining (well one drawing was kind of cool and I chalk that up more to the font and lines not the message). I hope I can focus and take the exit onto Big Boy highway, but then again across the street they are ripping into a version of Smoking in the Boys Room, maybe they have the answers figured out.

I heart the following:

My new compost bin: not being a hippy just a guy who wants to make some muck and maybe wear a headband or two. I feel kind of energized at times; I wanna be a writer who can play tennis make compost and help folks and get that weird tingly feeling. The tingly is when you do something out of character IE When I told me sister she was a bitch in Grandma’s kitchen when we were kids and when I suddenly decided to help some folks by Home Depot.

Rubber figures: I am not the only one as what I can tell from the web. This week The Other World is on my mind. I have a few and have no back story of when I picked up these toys. I notice I am enjoying more Conan kind of story ideas. Give me a super hero with a sword and I am in heaven.

11:22.9 in and I decided to go for a walk, it was a nice one even with the rape van neighborhood and Mad Max jeeps and trucks circling away. Come back to chit chat and wind down for bed but instead wide down the road to hell and sulking. The phrase “You have got to be out of your god damn mind” keeps going thru what is left of mine. It is after ten on a school night and I am pretty sure I am at a loss at how to double my salary. Steam shower times squared and I feel defeated and left out. That guy with the funny white head band who got a jittery jolt from helping out some folks is looking sad and wondering where this guy came in. He is a mumbler who grumbles and mutters under his breath and always threatens quitting. Quit a state, a job and anything that stands in his way.

20 minutes or less or it is FREE journal

Walking to my Dinner; a ramble in 20 minutes or less by John S. Berry kinda the second as I was named partially after my dad’s dad and the middle part…well that swishy middle name came from my pa’s friend who died in Vietnam. On with the show!!!

New plan is not so much derailed but maybe up on one wheel, kind of like coaxing a car on fumes or driving on a semi flat tire to get air at the filling station. I need to shed some beef (thanks for that phrase John Candy) and decided after my visit home it would be a good time to. May get a bike but gotta wait til' payday. Tonight I took one of my good old fashioned space cadet walks. I realized almost home that I have been going on these walks since the 7^th grade. I used to walk up to these hills (more like lumps) and just sit up there and enjoy the breeze and think about writing projects, girls and what it all means. I am not sure if it is sad or a truth of endurance that 20 plus years later I still don’t have a good answer for ya. Well the only thing I can tell is I still like girls and breezes.

Tonight I walked thru what felt like the barrio with a dash of the south, which was evident in the town home that was kind of run down and on one side a family from Mexico and the other side white blonder haired people. The kids were playing and all seemed right, later I had the thought that it could be trouble down the road when the kids grow up to be teens and fall in love then break up.

I am still fairly new in these parts so I am still getting a feel for it all. There are similarities to KS. And people do seem a tad nicer. So what I alluded to earlier was I am trying to walk more and eat less. I did so so today but kind of blew it this evening. I have decided to try and implement a few new rules in my life:

1. If I am going to go somewhere to eat IE bad food I will have to walk there and order a small amount. Maybe I am a soda and burger junky and maybe this is a plan akin to methadone.

2. I am trying to cut down on asking what is wrong and also need to cut out the phrase “It’s funny …” and also “It’s odd that…”

3. If I do watch mindless TV I will watch with a notepad to draw during commercials or parts of show or jot down notes or work on poems.

So there are some points for life that have been brewing and I decided to jot em' down in 20 minutes, I should have added the goal as well to write something each day. So what I saw on the walk:

1.    From a distance a girl watering a tiny front lawn, she looked amazing and just oozed sex. I felt uncomfortable on some level and as she set the sprinkler she cupped her ass cheeks and surveyed the lawn…oh she knew (see car washing scene in Cool Hand Luke).

2.    A car stopped and waited for me to get close to them and asked where Pine Street Bar was, uh it is the building behind you. The gal was big and looked like she had put her make up on with a shotgun. The guy kind of squirrelly. I saw them stop and undid my latch on my pack and reached in hoping if I was going to be fucked with they would think I might have something in there like a weapon or anything other than comics and Penal Colony paperback. Oh me such a flair for the dramatic.

3.    As I was almost home a dog kept yipping behind me and I heard the owner say “we don’t know him, no sweetie.” They eventually caught up with me and it was a couple with a tiny black dog and her man looked and sounded like a burnt out Spike Jonze. He was carrying a case of Natural Light beer and as she started talking to me and said her dog really wanted to greet me she started adjusting her ass and pulling at her shorts. I wondered what the rest of their night would be like; would they drink all that beer and pass out with the Olympics on the TV with the sound down?

4.    Oh and last one time is almost up as I was crossing I waited and a car roared up and blew thru the stop sign and he scowled and honked as he did it. He had a fuck the world face on for sure.

Sad Sack Journal

I started writing a baseball smart ass thing and ended up having to write an email of the heavy nature. My zest cooled down to finish it but should be able to post soon. Found these false starts to high art journal and just felt like what they hey post em'.

3-4-11 (Friday): Most days it is the same, I run a tight ship in the morning getting the wee man ready and at some point feel my face get flush as I have to remind once again to either shut off the bathroom light or put on socks. “Hey pal I don’t need a gripping suspenseful story of why you have not brushed your teeth I just need those fuckers clean.” Today was typical, overloaded with work and the double standard was in play as usual. Every victory seems tainted these days, feel good about something but there is always a catch. A rusty door springs on it hinges and may not make solid contact it at least grazes me to make me stumble.

I stumbled into the hall and smelled the baby powdered perfume smell that I think she be known as the official going out smell. I realized what a gap there is between me walking to pick up Thai take out and hoping the library is open so I can pick up a movie on reserve to dousing yourself in perfume, putting on your fuck me heels and spending time checking you angles in a mirror. The poor boyish gal at the Thai place talked a bit with me about allergies and I realized later she may have been flirting just a tad. She is an oddly attractive girl, kind of like a stretched out elongated version of an Asian baby doll you buy at a dollar store. My racist ass was shocked when she spoke more this time and had somewhat of a deep Connie Chung Americanized voice.

3-10-11
I have been feeling burned out with life, nothing dramatic or too earth shattering. I have been confused as to why I am so tired and why my motivation to do anything involving walking or gym work. Even now just sitting here at the computer missing my A key now I feel my back tighten and my irritation growing about the key and how I have been missing out by falling asleep early. At work I have been keeping a blank piece of paper by my desk and have been jotting down ideas for projects and how I want to make short little Flip camera films to secretly upload somewhere and maybe cherish a comment or two. As for work there is no help in sight, only more cases and more suggested volunteering. But I tell you work is good in that it helps this boy day dream of all the great work and project he would be getting done if it wasn’t for holding down the steady J.

But I do not want to be a ole negative ninny, gotta have a hope spot now and then no matter what the size. Lately I have been immersed in the fine card board art of cards again. I often worry about this blog just becoming all about cards and I constantly worry about being too much of a Cardboard Gods rip off. Honestly I thought a long time about writing about the cards I loved when I was a kid. What I have found is that like most of my interests my uh hmm fellow collectors seem to be into complaining and more complaining.

A week late of End of Age... It is over

Note: I was writing a rapid fire a day kind of pome for my last year on this rock at the ripe old age of 36. I am not sure why i feel somewhat let down with myself that i did not stay the course and crank out one a day, but hey that is life sadly in this day and age. The Friday one i have combined with a recall writing from this Sat. AM and part of one i scribbled down at work while in between being putting on hold and being yelled at by doctors and pathologists. I carried this scrap around for most of this week so i might as well use some of it. Saturday the last official day i could fire something up but instead i think i will leave the one line i started and then was drawn away from my computer for something probably important as scooping cat litter or switching laundry. It seems to sum up the day in its own way. My pre birthday was some of the good and the bad, good cheesecake, a few good cards, the usual. So now i am a year older and a few steps closer to head long sliding into the big dirt nap. End of note (thank God):

The Last Friday of my 36th Year:

The last good time feel good day of the week for a sad could have been guy
A week later to scroll this and I cannot recall the details, some…
A night out not realized, an excuse run to the store for cheese for dinner and a side of treat yourself baseball cards
Beforehand check my balances…well raise my rent
Pretty sure I dozed the sleep of dozers and slept in shifts
Who cares says Fonzie… “You ain’t cool you’re chili”
This morning had potential
It started with a song and ended with a snore

The Last Saturday of my 36th Year:

I’m your kid sister receiving your laser beam eyes

Alas... End of the Age Pome

The Last Thursday of my 36th Year:
I worked my day as usual with clock management
Rush, hurry up rush, “I’m not gonna make it” sung to the tune of Twisted Sister

Talked across cables to my Pops and remembered earlier in the day he refuses to stand in lines that are too big
“I spent enough time in the Army in line”

Life out west is all about lines and queues and ones and zeroes
My life is a no huddle offense
And I am no Peyton Manning in this huddle

Bonus Drivel as I did not make my self imposed dead line that no one in the universe cares about but me:

Freds:
My fielding is more Freddy Fender
Than Freddy Sanchez

More End of the Age Pomes... please bare with me the week is almost done and i can put this nonsense behind me

The Last Wednesday of my 36th Year:

Jotted down some notes on some scratch paper with messy work hair before 7AM
This one is going to be a doozy, a throw back of greatest hits and poop and pop reference of mein history
Nope and a nada left it face down on my office plank

I see smoke on the horizon, the after burn of what I hope would be a hot fuss for this one small section of a loophole year
Moved thru traffic, a work day and 2 pieces of cold pizza

My best ghost days still ahead of me I shuffle off to the garbage shoot and remember I do my part by throwing the recycling down the garbage on my testy days
Requested to not grace the office with my presence for one measly day next week and was met in the middle…typical fargin’ typical
Today needs a nap

The End of an Age Pomes

The Last Monday of my 36th Year:
Doomed sunny weather be gone this holiday
Gloomy day indeed I need you as an excuse in my back pocket to stay in sort baseball cards and eyeball everything but the eyeballs on my computer “Don’t blame me it was overcast and sprinklin’”

The apartment takes on the bachelor life as well
Well manicured and scrubbed counters grow a milk and sugar cereal spoon
Deep fiber cleaned carpet sprouts a toupee of dirty clothes
The walls surrounding have a slow pulse of naps and well preserved sweet items
Dining room table housing the casualties, flattened heroes of the diamond as the flicker box replays the greatness from last year

I enjoy a bed for the last time as a 36 year old boy man, soon banished back to a bag, that may be comfortable but only as a spur of the moment sleep, not a hearty lumberjack sleep needed

Shuffle and clean and put the best foot forward after the game and stretch out with the satisfaction that I got to watch my kind of game
Oh Rohlinger, Downs and good ole Eli you are not lost on me I think as I try to drift off knowing the shot clock for an eye opener work day will be sounding soon.

The Last Tuesday of my 36th Year:
I sputter on the muddy coffee and yet marvel that I was tricked by 3 day old coffee passing itself off as fresh and hot due to a good insulating pot

Pick up on the stories of the younger, better looking co workers

They may be more exciting but I am one weekend away from my Hermit badge

Ring, dial, ring, soda, piss, lunch and called in to “talk”
On last check I was a grown man who had paid dues in the form of taxes, student loans, credit card debt and broken hearted antics
But alas I am a predator of an extra ten minutes many a day for lunch- I be better me be good me sorry

Head back to base and quickly outlive my usefulness, answer some questions, answers are argued, get ignored, rinse and repeat
My thinning hair and damp brain need some cool air and a book store trip
No muttering and muttering on the walk as a solo artist becomes a trio

In the home stretch being invisible is not that bad, my wind wonders and I make the decision to collect a utility player card due to his awkward autograph
Life is just… uhhhh …. Can I get back to you on that?