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?

    Friday, September 30, 2005

    last day of September

    last day of September —
    a baseball bat
    next to the wood pile

     

    Thursday, September 29, 2005

    a game of tag

    I “borrowed” this from ago-go.

    Directions:

    Go to Google and click on the images link. Type in the following and post the first (or your favorite) picture the search engine finds:
  • The name of the town where you grew up
  • The name of the town where you live now
  • Your name
  • Your Grandmother’s name (pick one)
  • Your favorite food
  • Your favorite drink
  • Your favorite song
  • Your favorite smell

  • The name of the town where I grew up:



    The name of the town where I live now:



    My name:



    My maternal grandmother’s name:



    My favorite food:



    My favorite drink:



    My favorite song:



    My favorite smell:



    You’re it!

     

    overcast

    overcast —
    knowing these crows
    are talking about me

     

    Wednesday, September 28, 2005

    morning chill

    morning chill —
    the steamy breath
    of my fellow commuters

     

    Tuesday, September 27, 2005

    late September

    late September —
    a baseball helmet
    filled with rain

     

    Monday, September 26, 2005

    writer's block

    writer’s block —
    feeling every swing
    of the axe

     

    Sunday, September 25, 2005

    a perfect fall day

    a perfect fall day
    ruined
    by yard work

     

    Friday, September 23, 2005

    gibbous moon

    gibbous moon —
    the dog sees something
    I don’t

     

    Thursday, September 22, 2005

    restless sleep

    restless sleep —
    a storm strengthens
    in the gulf

     

    Wednesday, September 21, 2005

    Yawkey Station

    Yawkey station —
    the drunk no one wants to sit next to
    is me

     

    Tuesday, September 20, 2005

    gravity walks

    I don’t know what compels me to do it. I insist that I’m actually a pleasant and happy person most of the time. For some reason writing prods me into consistently dark places, and the words I spin together reflect this.

    Just this morning I wrote to a friend I haven’t seen since 1991. I began a paragraph like this:

    Other than the crippling realization that my youth is gone and that a slow decline in health and fortune await me, things are great.

     

    Monday, September 19, 2005

    fall begins

    fall begins —
    a stale dog biscuit
    in my jacket pocket

     

    Saturday, September 17, 2005

    September storm

    September storm —
    a pair of sneakers
    dangling from a wire

     

    Friday, September 16, 2005

    the truth revealed

    (taken from an imaginary interview)

    esb: the fact is... I write haiku because I have ADD and really can't focus beyond three short lines.

    CNN: oh, I see. how long have you had it?

    esb: (pause) had what?

     

    Thursday, September 15, 2005

    how many cans?

    I’m not expected to make them all stand up, am I?

     

    September

    September —
    a cloud of gnats
    at the bus stop

     

    Wednesday, September 14, 2005

    crowded train

    crowded train —
    one more stranger
    between us

     

    Tuesday, September 13, 2005

    end of summer (next in the endless series)

    end of summer —
    a bouquet of roses
    on the subway platform

     

    Monday, September 12, 2005

    crafts fair



    crafts fair —
    buy two gods
    get one free

     

    Friday, September 09, 2005

    end of summer (revisited)

    end of summer —
    the dog’s paw prints
    on the picnic table

     

    blood on the devil's megaphone

    “Come to Christ!” she bellowed, before slamming the phone down.
    I might have thanked God that the conversation was over,
    but the only thing on my mind was the next beer—
    cold and soothing to my lips, bitter in my throat,
    like life,
    like watching the life you’ve given
    rage against you.

     

    Thursday, September 08, 2005

    crowded train

    crowded train —
    searching for the source
    of whiskey breath

     

    Tuesday, September 06, 2005

    moonrise



    moonrise —
    the glow of crosses
    in an old cemetery

     

    Friday, September 02, 2005

    end of summer

    end of summer —
    the flashing lights
    of a State Trooper

     

    Thursday, September 01, 2005

    wedded bliss

    Photos of my daughter’s wedding, courtesy of flickr.

     

    backyard wedding



    backyard wedding —
    a child’s balloons
    float away

     

    blues for New Orleans



    dark and silent —
    a blues
    bigger than New Orleans

     

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