Gaia Community: maze's Blog

the truth lies somewhere in between

http://maze8.gaia.com — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 00:34:35 GMT

I remember this old song that went something like this: some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it in between. I'm glad there is such a place as somewhere. Not that being where I'm at now is all that bad and not that I should seek out another place to hope that things will get better, but somewhere period. In between having a period or not? Something like that, but not exactly. Anyway, this is not exactly what I wanted to talk about tonight. I want to tell you about this art auction I went to last night. I didn't feel like going because I had a stiff neck. My prick was flaccid. I would never stoop so low as to take a drug to keep me responsive for four hours. Dangerous to be stuck for so long. And for a moment I think so, and there I go again, stuck in something longer than a moment.Tricky dick. I remember when we had a president by that name. The art auction was a benefit for Autistic Services here in western new york. By now you know I'm buffaloing you. I can't think of another word for regardless or anyway. The digital photo shown today was snapped by Elizabeth. click, the shutter snapped who knows when and now capture this...imagine you smiling somewhere in between this blog and your ass plopped down in front of a computer screen. Me, right now, I'm annoyed because something is stuck between my teeth. I'm looking around for something that could act as a piece of dental floss. I take a sheet of paper out of the printer. I tear off a piece from the end, I fold it once & I fold it again and I wedge it between the two teeth where the culprit food particle is lodged. I feel much better...for now. I wonder what's next. btw...Elizabeth titled her digital snapshot: "the good, the bad, and the annoyed." I think I got the point.

Michael Jackson Dangerous (Live in Munich 1997)

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school is the culprit

http://maze8.gaia.com — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 00:04:58 GMT

Autism is the new ADD. That's quite bold. My wife snapped the picture that I'm using today. She nanny's Cammi and she drops her off at pre school. This picture reeks of why school sucks. How unsubtle the shift is from freedom to regimentation. Kids cry because they know they are going into the gas chamber that will ultimately destroy their innocence. They can smell the school's stink as soon as the door to enter is swung open. I have no pleasant memories of pleasant scents from any school I ever attended. Well maybe one, the scent of the ink drying on the mimeographed sheets being passed out by the nun. I wasn't alone because I caught a few others quaffing the sheet when it landed on their desk. I hated tests,but I loved the smell of the questions.For some reason, I survived school. Probably most of us do in a sense, but some really got so absorbed by the system they were able to achieve awards, plaques and honors. Me, I missed getting an award for perfect attendance in high school by one sick day. It was my mother who said....you're not going to school today because you have a fever. I was a sophomore at the time. None of this mattered to me at the time because I never realized there was such a thing as a perfect attendance award until graduation day. Some kid in my class got the perfect attendance award and had to go up on the stage and receive it from our smiling principal. So today I'm bragging that I came in second. But there was no second place award so I got none....none for anything. But you know what, I really had fun in those four years of high school and I had fun in grammar school too. I don't know where I learned this (probably wasn't any school) but from a young age I knew, that no one was going to break my spirit and stop me from having fun. And I'm sensing that this little cammi girl that my bride nanny's may not ever have perfect attendance, but already seems to have a grasp of the importance of her spirit.

Elvis Perkins In Dearland - "Chains, Chains, Chains"

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vouchsafe

http://maze8.gaia.com — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 23:36:10 GMT

Oh ok. Or I say fine a lot too. And a lot of times I have thought did I just hear what I thought I heard. I'm not really paying much attention to this blog because I've got a pot of soup stewing on the kitchen stove for my daughter who requested thick creamy cauliflower soup to soothe her aching throat from her yanked out tonsils operation soreness and fucking yes I said because I love you, I will do that. & I would do the same for you. just ask. And sometimes you don't even have to ask because I am fortunate to know enough to offer before you have to humble yourself. At times I wish I was double jointed instead of disjointed, but really, I can't help the way I fucking am and either can the boogey man. Although, who the hell am I to speak on behalf of the boogey man. I'm a nobody just like you are a nobody somebody too. It's for many as though we're sacred onto ourselves. I think I may have dropped my guard on some of the words I have used tonight...misplaced a few here and there. So why did you take the vow. You're a lying sack of shit. You were bequeathed honesty and innocence & yet you decided to go your separate way, For this you are despised and loved. I love you. Will you become a stowaway with me on a ship that's bound to sink anyway. We'll be in the bowels having fun giggling recklessly. I promise romantically.

Tommy Roe- Dizzy (vinyl)

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understanding

http://maze8.gaia.com — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 01:01:33 GMT

The Mamas & The Papas: California Dreamin'

I often misunderstand something I thought I once understood and now I'm thinking that's good. And then I go back and say wait a minute, that was really pretty good to begin with, so why not stick with it. This morning ad nauseum and ad infinitum surfaced simultaneously. It may have been part of a dream where I was searching for my lost dog beeshoo who died in my wife's arms way back when on martin luther king's day of 2009. This may have been precipitated by a question yesterday morning from a woman I see most mornings for the last several years. She's a brisk walker. And she usually comes this way while I'm going that way. That morning however she came up upon me from the other direction. It was odd that she was behind me. And she asked, what happened to that little dog you used to walk. And I said....she died months ago. Thus the reason for my dream. Where have you gone my darling little doggy. I was calling out for beeshoo. And I kept on thinking....how am I going to explain to my bride the fact that I lost her dog. So that's something you amateur psychologists have to figure out for me. Actually, you don't have to figure it out for me because I already know the answer. But, I don't know all the answers. Or all the possibilities...or all the variations...the twists. The subtleties. The innuendo, the what the fuck are you really talking about. The parable The babble of babel. The coiner of the phrase...figure it out. Yep, I love it that all this shit can be construed and misconstrued in almost equal amounts. Define almost. Define infinite. Define you make me sick. Define I love you. Too! Two to tweet choo choo.

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on the tip of my tongue

http://maze8.gaia.com — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 00:49:23 GMT

I'm notorious for burning my tongue. I forget that spoons and forks stay hot. I'm glad that tongues heal fast. My tongue has been good to me. I bite it once in awhile and so far it hasn't bitten me back. Except for a lashing here and there I've been pretty lucky. Lickings can be nice with the right tongue. I've eaten tongue too. Beef tongue. With gravy and mashed potatoes. Back in 1972 while I was in Poland backpacking my way through, I stopped in a little village on the outskirts of Warsaw. I went into the fields with the men to cut tall grass with a sickle. I don't really know if it was grass, wheat, alfalfa or whatever...but I do remember it was hot that day and I was sweating. When me and the Polacks got to the end of our day, we were near a well and a wooden bucket attached to a rope. The one man that was with us (let's call him Walenty) picked up the bucket and threw in down the well. Walter (Walenty) (actually Valentine) (maybe not, I'm never quite sure) (so much gets lost in translation) and pulled it back up from down under. The bucket was the bucket, but the content was shimmering from the reflection of the sun and our collective thirst. Since I was a guest I was given the bucket first. My lips hit the rim with gratitude, I slurped with joy and passed the bucket over to the the man closest to me and from there on and on it went until the bunch of us were sated. And the last man placed the more than half full bucket on the ground and the cows came out of the field too to slurp this drawn up elixir. That night, no one butchered a cow, but we drank some milk and cookies and then slept well for the morning trek to the fields for more sickling. In the morning I was awakened by a tiny sandpaper feeling on my slumped arm over the bed I was sleeping in. It was a kitten from the barnyard cat that someone from the house thought was appropriate to bring home. And thus, this kitty that my daughter rescued recently (pictured above) ....has a funny tongue too.....but I'm glad she found a home Lick.

Mother's Little Helper - The Rolling Stones (Aftermath (1966)) "H

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where're the trees

http://maze8.gaia.com — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 13:47:36 GMT

I like unusual combinations and I also like unusual perspectives. The abstract is like a koan to me. I remember many years ago during a slow day at work I overheard someone say "I'm bored." Since I'm so easily amused, I said to the person who made the comment....why don't we play a game. What kind of game? And I said, why don't we play...imagine people fucking. How do you play. Simple, in your mind pair up what you consider the two most unlikely people and then imagine them having sex. How about Freddy the frog faced nerd hooking up fat Betty the former nun. Anyway this ended up getting so silly and absurd that after a while people were giggling all over the place and were probably less bored. Then, it got busy at work and the game was forgotten. I heard that a few weeks later some of the women in the office did a variation on the game and they called it...who wouldn't you blow for a million bucks. And when I asked this woman who she wouln't blow and she told me Joe Blow I said to her...Jesus, I'm not gay...but for a million bucks I'd even blow him. Anyway I think Robert Redford did a movie on some variation of that theme. The idea actually came from our office. So maybe boredom is a catalyst for creativity. When people tell me that they're bored I say consider yourself lucky. And when they ask...why's that, I say it's an opportunity to talk to god. I would imagine god is pretty fucking boring. And my god is the fucking going on between Betty & Freddy. My god never says to me...excuse me Tom I have to go to the bathroom...brb.
Funny though, there are times when I act like there is no god. And my god doesn't get bored with my thinking. My god shows me the forest.

"Little Drummer Boy", David Bowie and Bing Crosby

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tonsillectomy

http://maze8.gaia.com — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 15:43:03 GMT

Our 25 year old daughter Malina had her tonsils removed yesterday morning. Me the bride and the fiance sat around the waiting room for hours. We waited to see a smiling doctor's face poke out the door and yell out our mispronounced name and inform us our Malina"s operation was a success and that she'll be in recovery for the next several hours. Thus the snapshot of Malina in recovery. I wanted to take a picture of her saying AH, but she wasn't in the mood. Malina opted to come to our house after she was released and she also brought along her fiance and kitten. I am wondering if that is what the term "whole kit and kaboodle" means. Anyway, I think home is the best place to heal and we are glad to have her back. The worst part of the ordeal was the waiting, and the best part was of course the outcome, but the in between part of the waiting room was the most fun.I sat around and talked about gall bladders, kidney stones, shingles, stints, and colonoscopies .People not only like to share what's going on with their loved ones bodies, but a lot of people love to talk about what's going on in their own bodies too. I've actually said this in conversations: the prep is a lot worse than the procedure. Anyway, what was really weird this morning was the fact that I got a text message from Malina at around 7:30 am. I just let Putnam (her kitty's name) out of the room...pls watch out for her. We have this crazy stalking vizsla "Linka" and Malina was just making sure our Linka wasn't going to make a meal out of Putnam. But, the dog and the kitty bonded immediately and all is well at the Mazur household. Putnam is an odd name for a tiny female kitten, but the kitty was found by a friend of a friend on Putnam street in Forrestville , NY. ..so that's her name for now. Already this morning my bride who loves to use diminutives has referred to this kitty as putty. I'm of the opinion that cats don't pay attention to any name you give them, but putty seems kinda cute. Malina is doing well this morning too.

Jacques Brel 1st Mathilde English subs

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bless me mother

http://maze8.gaia.com — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 02:49:08 GMT

for I have sinned, it's been way too many days since my last confession

Buddy Holly on the Arthur Murray Dance Party 12/29/57

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hit me up again

http://maze8.gaia.com — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 23:32:57 GMT

22, sorry you're over. Please try again.Sucker. Why don't you just quit. And be a quitter? No fucking way, I'm going to play until I win. Earlier today I was in the local convenient store and suddenly the line that I was in seemed endless but for some reason the lotto line opened up. The line that has a sign above it that says, "for lotto only." I scooted over and asked the clerk how much the mega million lottery is up to, and she said 146 million dollars. I handed her a buck and said, I'll have a quick pick and then I handed her my big bottle of beer so she could ring that out too....which is entirely ok to do if you play the lotto too. So I was quite legit in my swift move from one line to another, but I probably ended up paying an extra buck for my beer. But, along with that buck, I also have a dream, The dream of what if I were to be dumb lucky enough to win 146 millions dollars. I told the girl that plucked my quick pick out the the machine, that I would pay for her schooling, buy her a new car. buy her mom a new house, and buy this store she worked in so I could pay her fifteen bucks and hour to put up with jerks like me. She looked at my ticket and said, this might be pretty good, I have three sisters and one's birthday is on the 6th of July, the other one is o the 13th of February and the other one is on the 17th of October. And I said to her, how am I going to cover 22, 27 & 19. She smiled and said, it's up to me to find a way. I couldn't chat about it any longer because there was already three people standing in line behind me and a bunch more coming through the door. I'm enjoying the beer right now and even the thought of winning that kind of money makes me feel empty inside. But, even if I should be dumb lucky enough to win such a sum, I always have the choice of not handing it in.

Quicksilver Messenger Service - Fresh Air

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knock knock

http://maze8.gaia.com — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 00:03:43 GMT

Orange you glad I didn't do the joke.I think my all time favorite one was boo...boo who...don't cry. But you have to cry, and when you can't maybe it's a good time to laugh. And there might be stretches when you can't do either or. And there'll be some wise person who comes along and says...this too shall pass. (I've even said it to myself and to others) (but I have stopped doing so) Something that trite and true shouldn't be spoken anymore.By now, everybody should know that this too shall pass. It is no longer reassuring to hear those words anymore. And yet, it's true and not true at the same time.Is it true that on (make up a date and time and event) that you said, this is unforgettable. I've heard people say...I can remember exactly where I was at the time. Me too, but I also know I embellished a few things here or there as the years passed. I embellished the best days I ever had thus far and maybe even in my past lives and I've also done that with my worst days too. Today is Wednesday...have you ever heard someone refer to it as hump day? Can I hump you and then both of us try to forget it. A bomb goes off at noonish on Wednesday August something...you lose an arm while you were sitting in a cafe, there is mass confusion and you are dazed and an ambulance arrives. You are put on a stretcher & as sirens whirr whirr you go to a hospital .In the morning, there's a knock on your door....you respond by asking....who's there. Your worst fears that you can't seem to shake loose. You fall asleep. Another knock wakens you, You know better than to ask who's there. And yet you wonder if it may be joy returning. Who's there? Joy. Joy who? And so it goes, you allowed for joy to pass and yet you yearn for her return. This too shall pass.

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stretching centricity

http://maze8.gaia.com — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 00:14:02 GMT

Off kilter. A bit skewed. I was thinking earlier that everything that exists must be the center of the universe. That goes for you too, low self esteem, the one who's just a clerk working the cash register at a low paying fast food place selling beef burgers that are 73% beef and 27% who knows what. I must have no conscience. I recall an event many years ago in the mid sixties. I was working in a supermarket as a stock boy. I had to cut through the meat department often to get to the back cooler to get a box of lard which for some reason was stored in the meat department cooler instead of the cooler for the dairy aisle. For you vegetarians out there that may be reading this blog...go no further...stop here. Anyway, while I was passing through the meat department I would stop and chit chat with some of the workers back there. One time I stopped and chatted with a butcher that was trimming a side of beef with what I would call a band saw. And he was throwing all the scraps he sawed into an ugly dirty old bucket. And I asked him, what are you going to do with all these scraps, sell them to a farmer so he can feed it to the pigs. And he said, no no, hang on for a bit and I'll show you what we do with it. And I held on, but not with bated breath, not with anything really, I just stood there waiting. And then, the moment arrived. And the butcher picked up this stanky bucket of scraps and grizzle and snot and shit and dumped it into this big fat grinder and not too long afterward pouring out of the snout of this grinder was a reddish/pinkish glob of fresh ground beef. And my naive youthful eyes must have thought that this was some sort of miracle because even now in the 21st century I will still once in awhile order a hamburger.Was it a pivotal event...yes, somewhat...was it central...yes, at that moment...and now too.

Pearl Jam - Daughter

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I'm not sure

http://maze8.gaia.com — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 01:25:00 GMT

I think I should go to bed,not because I'm tired or drunk, but just to mock out me who thinks he should blog about something tonight. I wonder if I would anguish in bed going against the grain. Like being rubbed in the wrong way. A little more to the left,,,oooo that feels so good, that's it right there, keep doing it ...for the next twenty minutes...please. Excuse me, may I impolitely say, fuck you and your needs. I used to say, I need to do this, and I need to do that...as though my life would be better if I did what I thought I needed to do, but I stopped doing that...approximately a day and a half or twenty minutes ago....I'm not sure. (must I tell you that I was going to post a rascal song tonight titled how can I be sure, but ha you silly fool that would be too easy) I need to stay on task. Don't blame me, it's just that within the last ten minutes there has been been a ton of confusion in my life. And now there's none. ha ha. Let's just say, something was just made clear. Whoa, why don't I say something was made somewhat clearer. More clear. Queer how thinking makes things less clear. My cell phone just buzzed in my pocket. It was a simple text message from my daughter. Would you be able to help out. Sure. And for you too. you reader you...we don't need this text....we need nothing and more amore ha oh my god, something is bleeding...you're ok young man, your heart is just fine.

The Young Rascals - I Ain't Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore (Hulla

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what month is it

http://maze8.gaia.com — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 00:05:19 GMT

For the first seven or eight years of my life I grew up in the Walden/Lathrop neighborhood of the east side of Buffalo, NY. My parents had a paint store and right next to us was a saloon called Jakie's Grill. It's August of 1970. I missed Woodstock and I have told this story before. I missed it simply because I was going to be discharged from the US Army on August 18th, 1969 and I really didn't want to miss my discharge after spending almost three years in a god awful regimentation. (which quite honestly I didn't mind because I was able to meld) (but, I didn't want to press my luck, so therefore I wanted out) (although,the lure of woodstock fucked with my head) (and I'm glad it happened and sometimes I'm sad I missed it) (I dont't understand all these parentheses today) Carry on! Anyway, about a year after the army I was zooming by the old neighborhood past Jakie's Grill and there was my friend Jerome Jakubowski on the Lathrop side of the Grill in his garage working on his motorcycle. I stopped immediately to chat and we did a bunch of oh wows when we spanned almost 15 years of separate directions. There's two crazy things I remember about that day. The first is when Jerome asked me if I knew what month it was, and the second was whether or not I had heard of Crosby,Stills & Nash ...and really more, but I only remember a few. One when he asked me if I ever smoked pot, and then, when he turned me on, and then, when we listened to this marvelous album, and then, when he asked me if I would give he and his girlfriend a ride to her parents house in my almost new Volkswagen, and wow when we were going over the bridge which I still go over often. and wow, when I was going over that bridge, so many years ago, I thought it was the longest bridge in the world, and now even though it wasn't I still reflect on it, and I'm glad I once thought it was. Jerome died at age 26 and his almost wife to be with her cute little english accent disappeared. And why not, I can't even remember her name, and I don't think it was Judy. Regardless.

Crosby Stills & Nash - Suite - Judy Blue Eyes

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napping

http://maze8.gaia.com — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 18:55:09 GMT

The bride was exhausted and she said she's going to take a little nap. She had an early start and did a 5k walk/run for some local cause. Which reminds me, I never got to see the T-shirt she received for doing so. Greedily I'm thinking I hope they ran out of small sizes and gave her a large instead. Anyway, she asked me to wake her up by 3pm if she does happen to zonk out. If I forget because I got too engrossed with this blog and my imagination then I'll be the one who was napping. Naps are a weird thing. There are times when I think I need one and there are times I feel as though I should fight and transcend feeling the need. This is my lull time of the day anyway. But now I'm somewhat energized by this keyboard. I'm a morning person. Anything form 6am-1pm is fine with me...after that I slip into mellow mode. I'm functional, but seldom keen...by keen I mean doing anything even remotely productive. Of course I can rally if something is an emergency and then I rely on my old friend adrenaline. If I'm going to nap at all it'll probably be between 1-3pm. After that, it's time to walk the dogs.And the dogs are napping now. I wonder if they'll perk up around 3pm and remind me it's time to wake up the bride from her nap. I wonder if she was able to nap. I won't go in the bedroom to check her out,,,I'll just say yes...she did. Gosh, the damn vizsla just poked her head into the room where I'm sitting, walked over and stuck her cold nose on my elbow and walked away. I looked at her and thought...you dumb ass, it's only 2:45pm. I still have fifteen minutes left in this little corner of my world. So much for still life.Earlier though I was watching this rendition of "send in the clowns" that I'm going to post for you in a bit. And while watching and listening to the beautiful version I thought...geez, I wonder if I could sit as quietly as that male actor did while the lady sang. And of course I did, becuae I sat and listened. I enjoyed the the sitting and I immediately paid attention to the song after my initial thought interruption. And that attentiveness was as refreshing as a little nap. And in a sense, so was this little episode at the keyboard.

"Send in the Clowns" - Sally Ann Howes

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rituals, habits

http://maze8.gaia.com — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 00:53:51 GMT

ceremonies and significance. mindlessness vs. mindfulness. Already a fight has ensued. I say toemattoh. It sounds odd spiel it, but how do you spell it. c-a-t...the fucking cat is sitting just ten feet from my right eye periphery and I catch a glimpse of a tiny tail tip wagging in a begging way. I try to ignore it, but the wagging tail tip keeps on softly saying...feed me I'm your stray that you took in many years ago and you are now obligated. You didn't have to take me in, and I know too, that I didn't have to come to your house and looked lost and lonely maybe eighteen years ago...I have no sense of time...help me with this...will you...please. Fuck you asshole cat...I'm going to feed you so you'll disappear and then I'm going to get back to my blog. Besides, I wrote about this not too long ago, so why are you bothering me about it again. I'm hungry meow. The cat is fed and I'm fed up. But that's ok, I had no plot in mind. I could never write a blog that has any sort of ending.I kinda like to leave you guessing...because this is my play time. What about you, do you like a happy ending...a sad ending...or something that leaves you hanging. I personally like an ending. When something ends too abruptly....I say to myself, I hope this isn't the end...I hope there's going to be a little blip on the screen that says...to be continued. Although, that may be more exciting than the end..or finis. What's greater, the last drop of tea, or the preparation that brought you to that moment. Or the moments that follow the sadness that the tea is gone for now and you have to clean up the mess and get ready for tomorrow's cup of tea. And the sadness that comes when you begin to realize you never liked tea to begin with. And the joy that returns in the morning when you're glad you cleaned up the mess from last night's ceremony and you have no doubt that a fresh pot of tea will be on the menu.

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance)

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for what it's worth to hue

http://maze8.gaia.com — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 00:47:23 GMT

I can't control you but I can control hue. But why would hue care. And why should you too. OK, I'm done pondering. Oh, so you think you are said hue. I don't like that you think you can control me. Well fuck you. Fuck you too hue. Bullshit, who the hell do you think you are, you can't control true hue, you can only control hue as projected after seeing true hue. I think you may have something there hue. And hue happens so quickly and changes so quickly it's almost impossible to capture. That may not be true, what do you think hue? I think it has to do with the light. Yes, it's how the light attaches momentarily and shifts its way towards something else so others can catch a glimpse of hue. A moment of glittering hue worth more than all the coins in sunken ships in all of the oceans. That sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me. I suppose you're right hue...but it was sure worth a try. Will you catch me on the porch in the morning for some coffee and a toasted english muffin with butter and marmalade and the cross word puzzle. Sure, you know me, I love you. I love you too hue.

Doris Day -Three Coins In The Fountain

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did you ever get pissed off at a door

http://maze8.gaia.com — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 18:38:05 GMT

Light My Fire - The Doors

Were you ever so pissed off that you slammed a door. Excuse me, what did the door do to you. Slam. Fuck you! One time, way back in the early 80's when the bride and I were first married we got in an argument. I was so mad at something I can't even remember, that I slammed the front screen door so hard one of the hinges broke loose. Back then we lived in a neighborhood in which the house next door was a tad beyond arm's length proximity. Most arguments were up for all the neighbors ears to hear. I made two mistakes that day. Actually maybe three or four. The first one was to lose my cool and the second one was leave the house in a huff in a middle of a torrential rain storm. The third mistake was probably the fact that I didn't get my ass right back in the house to make some sort of amends. It's usually easy for me to blow up, throw a tantrum, and almost immediately come back to earth. But that day I decided I needed to cool off more so I walked around the block feeling pretty foolish nonetheless. Upon my return to the abode we made up and probably laughed at the stupidity of it all. The next day while I was out on the front porch fixing the hinge on the screen door, the Wayne (our neighbor) came out and asked what happened to the door. Knowing full well that he heard it all the day before...I simply said to him...it got caught by the wind during the storm. But, I just want to say a little about anger. And it has to do with this blog this afternoon during a hot and muggy Tuesday in the month of August. Anger is august. It's strong. It may go to sleep for awhile but it's capable of returning in a second's notice. Like the other day...I was about to post this snapshot along with a crazy blog that I can't even remember was about. As I was about to post it...the damn thing took a shit on me and went off into cyber heaven somewhere. I was mad...but not angry...but mad enough to not attempt to do it again that evening. I'm actually glad I didn't break the hinges off my laptop. So today I apologize to the door...and this fucking laptop that pissed me off the other day.

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piping down the valleys wild

http://maze8.gaia.com — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 01:21:51 GMT

This is how this damn thing starts. I was checking out some photos for tonight's blog. I came across this snapshot taken in the Rackham auditorium at the university of michigan while waiting on my son's faux graduation from law school. I say faux because it really was a ceremony for ceremony sake because the students still had another couple of weeks to finish their coursework before they could officially get their diploma. Anyway, I really don't feel like talking about that experience. But what made me pause tonight was the fact that my son is sitting directly behind me tonight studying for his upcoming bar exam next week. It's been agonizing for me just to watch him spend so much time and effort cramming for this exam. And I have a ton of empathy for all those thousands of other students that will be taking a bar exam somewhere across the united states next week. I officially wish them well right now. Good luck. And may the goddess tara hover over their plumes especially during the multiple choice section of the test and nudge these hand held plumes toward the correct answers like one would experience when using a ouija board. Yes, even for those who didn't study well. After all, this is going to be a miracle that I'm orchestrating from this laptop here tonight, And maybe you should do the same...but please, only if you know that you possess the power of prayer. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below; Words without thoughts never to heaven go. Gosh, it was so much fun to steal that from shakespeare tonight. Huck Finn said, you can't pray a lie. I stole that from samuel. Mark my words. Amen. What the fuck are you talking about?
....(there was silence)... Now listen to this please. The way this things ends is that I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong. I am not able to post the picture. After a while this notice pops up on my screen...413 request entity too large. This is much like prayer. There must be a basic know how somewhere out there. And what you see posted is not the what I wished for you to see.

Bach, Toccata and Fugue in D minor, organ

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bullfuckingshit

http://maze8.gaia.com — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 00:56:46 GMT

Nothing is original. And the jerk off who talks about original sin is old hat too. Let's face it folks, our first thoughts were gesture. Unspoken conjecture. Somewhere people are applauding a rendition of somewhere there's a place for us. You have an amazing voice. My answer is yes....because you are going to las vegas. And guess what, don't believe that if you jerk off in the bathroom over there it will stay there. And of course, most people around the world could give a shit less about such an incident, but then again, some may have a god that cannot ignore such shit. What the hell do I know about god and judgments anyway, I don't pretend to be a god. But, I sure would like to meet up with god face to face one of these days and have a have a decent conversation with god and share a 40 ounce bottle of miller high life and a ninety nine cent bag of barbecued pork rinds. On earth as it is in heaven. For me anyway. And if god can't make it, why not send lisa minelli instead. forty years ago maybe. Time is not relevant here, only the pretense of originality. I actually feel bad that I don't see a lot of people giving the finger lately. Or giving the thumb. Where's your thumb now? You can't even say...right up my ass because that wouldn't be original. Is jerk off a male perspective. I think I'm going to jerk on tonight. An element of trust. God, you're lucky you started the sentence otherwise I'd be in the lower realm.

Cabaret, Liza Minelli

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new entry

http://maze8.gaia.com — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 01:10:59 GMT

It's no longer that time anywhere. And fuck now too. & eckhart tolle too. no not really. didn't he write something cool about this stuff anyway. Are you mocking? Today I will let live the name eckhart. If I am fortunate to be born again after now and I am also fortunate to bear a child I will name this daughter child of mine eckhart tessie. Or better yet, Genevieve. Genevieve eckhart tessie. Get it? I don't and I'm glad I didn't. So at times it may make you wonder...who's in charge. I am. You is. We be all am. maam. how do you spell apostrophe? yessum. Today is the first day for the rest of your life even though today is more than half way over and you won't be paid for a full day. wwjd? Of course Jesus would pay you for the full day....and jesus (really I don't know what jesus would do) but I would surmise, that jwd nothing more than leave it up to you. And that's probably the coolest thing about jesus. Jesus leaves me alone. Jesus has set me free. & for this I am forever grateful. I almost feel like saying amen, but I'm not quite ready, I am grateful for this too. Esophagus. That is also something I am grateful for. And my scrotum, spleen, liver, lungs, glands, gonads (jeepers, is there sucha thing?) and eyeballs too, not to mention (how dumb) becuase to say not to mention is really the preface to mention all the shit you really should have said, but were held back, by who knows what. We is,

Come Together - Michael Jackson

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