you need this

Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]

extra special blogs

 

about me
poet, technologist, cynic, father of five, child of chaos, punker, prankster, patriot, punster, leftist, latino, japanophile, audiophile, beer drinker, quiche eater, dog walker, soft talker, deep thinker, shallow sleeper, introvert, covert operative in a parallel universe.

View my complete profile



* m a y s t a r *
designs

archives
  • September 2004
  • October 2004
  • November 2004
  • December 2004
  • January 2005
  • February 2005
  • March 2005
  • April 2005
  • May 2005
  • June 2005
  • July 2005
  • August 2005
  • September 2005
  • October 2005
  • November 2005
  • December 2005
  • January 2006
  • February 2006
  • March 2006
  • April 2006
  • May 2006
  • June 2006
  • July 2006
  • August 2006
  • September 2006
  • October 2006
  • November 2006
  • December 2006
  • January 2007
  • February 2007
  • March 2007
  • April 2007
  • May 2007
  • June 2007
  • July 2007
  • August 2007
  • September 2007
  • October 2007
  • November 2007
  • December 2007
  • January 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2008
  • April 2008
  • May 2008
  • June 2008
  • July 2008
  • August 2008
  • September 2008
  • October 2008
  • November 2008
  • December 2008
  • January 2009
  • February 2009
  • March 2009
  • April 2009
  • May 2009
  • June 2009
  • August 2009
  • September 2009
  • October 2009
  • November 2009
  • December 2009
  • January 2010
  • February 2010
  • March 2010
  • April 2010
  • May 2010
  • June 2010
  • July 2010
  • August 2010
  • September 2010
  • October 2010
  • November 2010
  • December 2010
  • January 2011
  • February 2011
  • March 2011
  • April 2011
  • May 2011
  • June 2011
  • July 2011
  • August 2011
  • September 2011
  • October 2011
  • November 2011
  • December 2011
  • March 2012
  • April 2012
  • May 2012
  • June 2012
  • August 2012
  • April 2013
  • June 2013
  • August 2013
  • September 2013
  • October 2013
  • February 2014
  • March 2014
  • April 2014
  • August 2014
  • March 2015
  •  

    extra special bitter
    hops are bitter. life is bitter. coincidence?

    Thursday, September 30, 2004

    Chaos Theory

    Imagine a dream so intoxicating you awaken to a desire to sleep.

    full moon --
    I stop myself
    from kissing her

     

    Tuesday, September 28, 2004

    The Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging

    "I see no sign of free will, so I guess I'll have to pay" - Genesis

    When I consider the routine of my everyday life, I'm utterly appalled: the stultifying sameness; the surrender to a joyless pattern of deadlines and dead-ends. For fun I try to leave the house with barely enough time to make my train into Boston. Any traffic congestion or other source of delay will mean that I miss it. It's not a huge inconvenience, since there's another one only 18 minutes later. It's this illusion of danger that lends some shred of excitement to a day that's not likely to see any otherwise.

    behind schedule
    I run for the 7:09
    so that I can sleep

     

    Sunday, September 26, 2004

    Approximately Elsewhere - the Movie

    Three beers into the conversation, I acknowledge that I am lost. Every trace of dignity I once had is now a metaphor for a bygone age. I am, based upon my most recent Mapquest lookup, approximately nowhere, which leaves me adjacent to nowhere else, which leaves me no closer to my destination... which is undefined. We rehearsed our hurried goodbyes, but never acted, so that when the cameras rolled we stared into the artificial starlight and turned away from each other's tears.

     

    Friday, September 24, 2004

    September Revisited

    Everything around me is dying - and it couldn't be more beautiful. In a few weeks it will all disappear, but for now, the image lingers, hanging on a rusty nail in the wall, taking on soft sepia tones.

     

    Thursday, September 23, 2004

    Instant Expert

    Just add beer. A salesman with a megaphone for a voice held forth on an impressive variety of topics last night. The primary victim sat at the table in stoic silence, but the rest of us, who had come there for a quiet dinner and a cold ale, grew increasingly uneasy. He, on the other hand, grew increasingly confident - and LOUD...

    pub regular --
    his expertise grows
    by the pint

     

    Tuesday, September 21, 2004

    Bloody Hell!

    Turns out there's more to the Crimson Tide than the late Bear Bryant. Picture Don Quixote surrounded by mirrors, only one of which reveals his true reflection. In the heat of the battle it's not always easy to choose the right one.

    my youngest son
    wild flowers
    among the weeds

    The original last line was "in the trash", which I later thought to be too ambiguous and angry. "among the weeds" smacks of Creative Writing - also ambiguous, but poetic. At least those 5 1/2 years of college didn't go to waste.

    "the things that pass for knowledge I can't understand" - Becker / Fagen

    On a related note:

    unable to sleep
    an apple branch
    against the window

    Oh, the things we dream when we're awake...

     

    Monday, September 20, 2004

    Blood Makes Noise


    They say that blood is thicker than water. I have to wonder if this was an empirical observation that was never intended to be translated into metaphor. Latino blood is thicker than molasses and more intoxicating than wine. It's practically impenetrable. But that's not how the saying goes.


    my brother turns 41 --
    will my belated birthday card
    arrive on time?



     

    Sunday, September 19, 2004

    Extra Special Bitter

    Once upon a time, I had what I thought was a blog on my website, only to be told that I was doing it all wrong. Is there a wrong way to step up onto a soapbox and rant? Apparently so.

    On the other hand, I'm much too self-conscious to rant effectively. At best I will offer wry editorial commentary punctuated with impressionistic observations, none of which, I would surmise, is blog material.

    So what am I seeking in my little corner of cyberspace? It's a place to capture thoughts in words, a notebook of sorts. But it's more than that, because it's visible to the eyes of strangers: it's on-line. Is that what makes it different? To be an exhibitionist among voyeurs?

    I was once a happy man, but bruised and bitter, the core of an apple browning on the sidewalk, I couldn't stay my sighs to halt a herd of cattle. A mouse sniffs at the bait in the trap, knowing that something is wrong but powerless to resist. Something borrowed, something kissed. Before you can ask for her phone number, the trap is sprung. Something empty, something young.

    Automatically writing, he righted himself, automatically. Let the games begin.

     

    design by may
    maystar designGet awesome blog templates like this one from BlogSkins.com