Then there was the time I went to pull the drying agent up but instead let flow-through a maker of white mud before I could know it.
I am the baker’s man.
Walt and William, my flower smells stronger. These days, you know…too much and very carb’d.
The doctor’s dead.
Artist: David Alan Coe
Song: “Cocaine Carolina”
Album: Just Divorced/Darlin’ Darlin’ Plus
Morning found me lyin’ on a floor in New Orleans
Looking like the Apache was about to eat my jeans
Feeling like my belly was a warehouse for the blues
And I sure miss my sweet Cocaine Carolina
Better on an oceanliner call the Cocaine Carolina
She was quite a lady then and I was twenty two
God knows how much I adored her I just never could afford her
Cocaine Carolina how did I get hooked on you
So goodbye Cocaine Carolina you and I are through
I’m going back to Sandy Scuggs she knows just what to do
She don’t love me for my money she just wants my body honey
Cocaine Carolina how did I get hooked on you
Oh someone said if I was lucky I could go back to Kentucky
Lexington was famous for its bluegrass and its hills
Carolina we should get up don’t you know we’ll have to sped up
Baby I should go to California
Goodbye Cocaine Carolina…
Oh goodbye Cocaine Carolina…
Oh goodbye Cocaine Carolina…
A crack baggie fell out of one of my notebooks a few days ago.
dark-side-of-myself.blogger.com
That guy came to my bloggy blog.
I think it means something.
|| See what else lies telling hidden in those logs, if only they were yanked like a molar. ||
I just last-minutedly detoured myself from sending two emails with potential to be to my detriment. Or, at least embarrassment. Dumping them here in this EPA Superfund candidate of a dumping ground.
Here’s the one reponding to a very successful writer friend’s mass mailing ensubjected “Re: writing quote of the day.” Being ensubjected myself, I wrote the following:
Oh, that Auden! He’s some character, isn’t he? I’d really love to believe that, his latest self-evasion action, but I can’t.
Hoping You’re Humilia-Free,
ds— FK wrote:
> Art is born of humiliation.
>
> W.H. Auden
And now a longer thing, more artily humiliating, sent to a tight group of friends after news of an adoption effort turning out to be successful (in so far as its going-through):
A lot of congrat-like things to those who merit.
For years I’ve heard talk and seen type regarding Alisa’s santeria; I guess you have to have a temple recommend to be let in on it.
The fact that I can count on Sean to stick up for West Jordon and Fountain Valley as circumstances demand gives me a sense of security and stability in this fickle world.
I like dry ribs a whole lot. I also like ribs that haven’t been broken on the whim of a 35-year-old who thinks he can drop-in on a redneck halfpipe in front of a live(ly) and high(ly) illegal female audience (”The Age,” here in the more Southern of the Carolinas, is 17) just minutes after slapping some griptape, a pair of Independent trucks, and a quartet of Spitfire wheels (just like the olden days) on a 7-ply, 7.7″ deck factory-signed by the latest young, non-competing soul skater with two kids, a mobilehome in Australia, and a real bad need to un-Hawkt-ivision the sport of those anarchist kings who kickflip by day and flip shortorders by night. After all, it wasn’t all that long ago that I did the same.
When my thumbless girlfriend was an MFA Badboy–I had already spent good time following the BID (balding in denial) around the surgical center as if he were the Pied Piper of Provo (but before he converted me to Darrellism my interest was no more than to discover how such a disfigured person could win a Betty Brunetta with cheeks composed in a ratio either representing or replicating), but I get distracted–as I did then–and, well, as I do now todavia.
What I’m trying to say now is that, after all the Hellcat Crazy Toura and annual birthing classes hasta la completion, I’m somewhere between scared and sure that I am no longer a keeper-upper with Senior Skat-Eh Swa-Veh. But it occurs to me that such a thing may not be problematic; besides easily side-stepping the pain of breathing against a bone-dry and laterally cracked rib, I find, in these barren childless days, that I’m just about as happy passing half an afternoon lazily (as if there where another way! )taxonomizing the personality-revealing [macro-levelly, of course] naps comprising the “normal” tactile experience offered by the furniture generally favored in this part of the country.
At about that point I lost steam and fell asleep despite my wild gesticulations, causing me to bite my tongue fairly severely. Such a thing can be done quite severely; take it from me.
Yeah, pretty much I have been on the bender to end all benders. At least that’s what I hope. It was obvious to you, wasn’t it? All that empty time after all that drabble-on. I’ll have to be quick. Puntos, nada mas.
I plan to make this the last. (Famous not-last words.)
I’ve been rooting down with los Mexicanos.
I think mostly in Spanish now. At least when I’m aware of my thinking, which is mostly when I’m brain spins donuts in the empty dirty lot after gear-grinding on la coca, aka la cosa, la medicina, la quimica, etc.
There are some come behavior traits in the Latino culture surrounding the drunken state. They are:
Now for specifics. Things have po-po-pol-arized. Long story short, most/many of the Garden City Connector Contingent have cut me off after tanto because a gringo that doesn’t know me but came over to my tio Enrique’s when I was there and stayed 4-5 minutes maybe and was so shocked to see a gringo speaking Spanish and hanging out with Mexicans as, dear me!, amigos! that he arrived at the obvious conclusion that I’m police and since went a-campaigning against me. Despite how illogical it is, and how I’ve acted…everything! some have fallen victim and begun to desconfiarme. (The highlight here was Mirinda microwaving my Amex Blue, and taking the odd burn/melt pattern–the chip undamaged–as proof of my policianess.) Me molesta mucho. Others have risen, unrelatedly, to prove themselves some of the best people and friends a pinche guero or chato or beaner could have. Amazing loyalty, generosity, care, hospitality, on and on an…. I could go off/on here but will leave it at that. I have sites to prolgrim.