30 July, 2014

Travis County Limits

The usual elderly home store pro sales cashier asks, "what my nationality is . . ."
"I'm second-generation Austinite, fifth-gen Texan, ma'am."
"Wow, but what I meant was 'before that', 'what breed' ?"
"Dane, I suppose."
"Is that where you get that outrageous accent?"
"No, it's actually from a variety of drugs – and alcohol [wink]."
"Get out of my store, Reid [blushed handing me a normal $500+ receipt]."
"Well you gotta organize your [fork lift] team to get rid'a'me!"
"Do I get my hug first, or do I have to make you coffee, yet? It's 4pm-"
"Better make it stronge – I'll go do some more shopping."
           "One cream, two sugars. [hugs]"

29 July, 2014

So the pony went . . . and so it goes . . . forever and ever . . . Rámen.

RIP 2014
I don't even know what to conjecture . . . "hit by vehicle while jaywalker the Vegas Strip, intoxicated" is what your article shouldn't have said, but alas (within its intricacies), did.

That old adage shit "you die twice: once when your heart stops, the other when someone last recalls your memory" may hold well of you (and for some time, however infamous).

I write some (in memory of you)... thanks for housing all that mischievous mayhem in return for very little, on my part, other than picking up the slack in your "leavings off."

Thanks for motivating me to become a better person, I am grateful for the continued opportunity to become better!

The world needs more than wishing you two well.

It's your turn to hit greens.

08 July, 2014

I had you by the scrotum, dear lad . . .

. . . then released.
View from not my quadricopter.
Watching as you toss firecrackers

Used without permission, here, © Post Secret
Upon my hood, just one car following behind yours.

A wild shitty water color appears.
Drugged, flucked off and/or enraged. Apparently upset with my passing to his left (as you're supposed to do!), swoops in to cut me off . . . the finger, his, a nice little touch.

I'm certain Remington won't mind if I swipe a beautiful 870 from their homepage...

Let it go. Don't get out the shotgun – jail certainly is NO FUN

but goddammit CRACK BAM SNAP POP!
Another one, Obviously not from around here, readily making yet another poor decision: to evade me while passing through downtown, swear-to-god right-past the ole police station . . . sure, let me just get on the radio and:

No officer, you don't get the revenue; a citizen instead becomes wiser of living good folk.
Bam six APD cruisers simultaneously light your dumb ass up, momentarily victorious.

I stop and clearly explain the rules of my prosecution: if the occupants are sober, nobody goes to jail... I will not press charges. Otherwise, be sure to bring cash when you get your car out from impound (I know from experienceS!)

Everybody passes, I nod my head, knowingly that tonight I spared this ignoramous the humility of:

) Going to jail (by them)

) Being killed (by me)

) nor having to pay some silly fine (to State)

Settled, good night. Drive real careful, ya'll (or us crazies'll get ya'!)

02 July, 2014

And that's what ballgags are for . ?

Dear Dan.

 If only

you were real.

"I will work on me for you,

if you will work on you for me."

01 July, 2014

What have you been up to this summer?

A good question, playing with cranes!

The main (1200lb) span of my first completely-from-scratch build-out.
Just a 5000 sqft garage. Custom designed into a zero-oaks-killed configuration.

Remembrances of past, and onward through the fog to the future!

22 June, 2014

Untitled poet seven

Thank you god, this morning, for waking me up before nine . . .

04 June, 2014

A Chinaman, a Pollock, and an Arab walk into a bar--

••Straight Man

So, if you hear anything that could be in any way offensive to anyone, just raise your hand, and-- Oh, I haven't really started yet.
Did you find something offensive?

The fact that you think I need a man's permission to raise my hand is insane.
I can raise my hand whenever I want to raise my hand because I'm a free woman.

••So I should just raise my hand like this, like a big, old black power fist, yeah, huh, boss man? Is that what you want from me? Is this what you wanted?••
A floppy gay hand just floating around in the air. Well, here you go, here's my floppy gay hand at the end of my limp, gay wrist.
- Happy? - No.

Jesus, no.

Wow, what? Why not "Mary, no," Or "Rachel, no," Or "Bathsheba, no"? Why does it have to be Jesus, a man? And are we talking about the Jesus that accepts everyone or the Jesus who doesn't believe people should be able to love who they love? Oh, maybe I should just break out in some gospel songs, screaming and hollering and hooting, "Oh, Lordy, Lordy.
" No, this isn't the speech yet.
Can I just do the speech? Oh, you want this bitch to shut up? - Is that it? - What's the matter? The black guy's making way too much noise in your movie theater, Massa? Forgive me for lisping And lilting through your speech.
- No, I just meant-- - Whoa! What's with the hands, man? I ain't gonna shoot ya.
What, are you gonna grab my breasts now? Protect yourself from the gay invasion.
- Guys.
- Ho, "Guys," should I leave? Sorry, men and women.
Let's exclude everybody who identifies themself as something else because they're not people! I meant people.
Whose people? My people? Do I speak for my people? - All right.
- More like "All white.
" More like "No rights.
" More like "Women are second-class citizens, right?" Okay, stop, men, women, people of all ethnicities, genders, sexual orientation, religion, can I please just get to my speech? Fine.
- Yeah.
- Mm-hmm.
Okay, here goes.
A Chinaman, a Pollock, and an Arab walk into a bar-- I love Arab jokes.
Ching-chong, bring it on.
You had me at "Pollock.

03 June, 2014

You have braces, too?

That point in your life when you once thought "whel-, I guess she was the last teenager I'll ever fuck". . . smashes right out the window; twirling girlies airward with some fun hippy shit.

No clue the "techniques" going on, no shits given. Not one,

Oh my.