Old News

Ice falls away from this
Lupine lady of clay as the
Outré supplicant sways then her
Void, pervaded by day when his
Elan shines like a ray o
Yea to touch him I’ve prayed for our
Own romantic foray
Under velvet and starry arrays

ca. 2009

Love at first sound
Was certainly you
My Hands were tied
I’m bound, I’m true

And so I was beaten
Was cloven was bared
Then I was bitten
Still mute now aware

An old magic horn was
Put in or pulled out
When you strummed the cords
That ignited my doubt

Dark woman in dream
She bled my wrist
Blue jay held tight
In this dreamland tryst

There is one close
It’s true, so true
I shall see you sir
For I’m certain ’tis you

ca. today

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My dream faded quickly the first time I was roused by my pee-dancing dogs. Rather, I presume as much because once I fully awoke, the dream memory crept in after a minute or two.

I was in a house. Or was it a condo community? Or a bed and breakfast inside a mansion? With whom was I?

My party was several people thick, with one holdout who was, in fact, terrorizing the rest of us, lying and cheating to get a one-up on us. I remember that we were sneaking between rooms and locales, averting his nefarious plans of offing each of us, one by one.

The details have dissolved, leaving the shells of imagery. I remember that I had paired up with a girl who was afraid of the antagonist; I remember being inside Adam’s attic apartment to discuss logistics [of what?]; I remember feeling alive finally, as if  I were finally experiencing a challenge for once in my thirty two years of life.

Of course, the antagonist was figurative. I believe it represents a concept familiar to us all. A hamsa is a talisman worn to protect against the “evil eye,” which manifests in others as envy, ire, and general ill will. The evil eye is not unrelated to the American “stink eye.”

The antagonist in my dream represents general oppression. Everyone knows how “terrified” I am of oppression. Lol.



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…that filled the background air with Frank Sinatra.

This already happen in my dream several years ago. You had him and me in your car, and I was disappointed that you suggested a strip joint.  I knew this was figurative.  You told me you would take him under your wings, so to speak; that you would take him through your past spaces.  I believe that is what is happening now.

I can’t remember if that dream happened before or after my other lucid dream with you. Is it relevant?  As I closed my eyes under the warm sun, suddenly your hum palpated my solar plexus.  You stood in a smallish, dark theater tending the record player that filled the background air with Frank Sinatra. It was dark, and I was alone because nobody else was looking. You turned to look at me, and when you winked, I opened my eyes to pure silence.

My third lucid dream from that time has already occurred: I found my silver blue sack sullied with a rusty-looking stain several weeks ago.

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Say, what?

My friend took me out to dinner last night.  He is a brewer at the restaurant, and so he was a familiar face to some of the staff.  I suppose this is the reason that he recoiled in shame for a brief moment after I turned my head sideways, cupped my hand over my mouth like a megaphone, and ripped a resonating belch toward the patrons sitting behind me in their own booth.  Like a ventriloquist, I “threw my voice,” and it was audible throughout the facility, as my legendary belches usually are.  The servers passing by stopped midstep, one saying emphatically to the other, “Dude, was that YOU??”

Note: this incident did NOT occur at Shoney’s or Subway.

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WWGD - 21nov2006
Image courtesy of the long-defunct Host Clothing

The following .pdf file is my writing portfolio from the fall semester three years ago. Its relevance lies in the fact that I entered the class with no formal education beyond high school.


Note: Your third-year freshman flunked out of school just now.

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What does it mean,

when the frequency increases of me making the response, “What matters is simply that I SAID it at all.” Am I slipping away or toward? To or from WHAT?

Posted in Babbling Crick Master, Notes to Self


All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Good story, huh? 😉

Perhaps I just made a logistical error in breaking up with Klitus (preferred spelling is with K, birth name is spelled Clitus), but I realized suddenly that he is NOT willing to confront his manipulation tactics with me. To be clear, I was never in confusion about this; I simply chose to give him the benefit of the doubt because I do have a real affinity for him.

It was a good lesson for me to learn, that cheap crackers cannot become inherently classy. I’m referring in part to the fact that he is an idiot atheist, i.e. one with a stagnating mind. He offended me dramatically with it once when he put down his whole family simply because they throw the bible in his face.

I understand the frustration. When I was 18 years old and wondering where my dad had been my whole life, I found him one day traipsing valiantly into my town from his fake titty wife & kidset #2 in Hawaii in order to take me to Shoney’s one morning. At breakfast, with his mother at the table, my dad told me that he was a failure as a father BECAUSE I WAS NOT WILLING TO MAKE HIS CULT-LIKE JESUS STATEMENT. I had simply wanted to talk about “the only constant in the universe” topic he had just previously brought up.

Edit 1: [Pride speaks not with the following comment, rather it’s an illustration: my father was in Hawaii to train for flying Blackhawk helicopters.  Perhaps his pre-Hawaii fake titty wife, who accompanied him there, was incidental.]

While I am learning to cope with having an idiot father, among other things, I do not need to listen to someone else’s whiny, uninformed, degenerate bitterness.

Klitus also refuses to forget about what a bitch his ex wife was to him, and about all the horrible ways she treated him. She has been totally out of his picture for years. This blog is not about her, though; it is about me.

After I made this realization, that I was probably at a dead end with my cracker basket boyfriend, I attempted to sit on my thoughts until I had thought things through thoroughly. But I could not hide my feelings once I became aware of them, and Klitus noticed, prying hard and clutching prematurely despite my unreadiness to discuss my thoughts. When he demanded a hint, I acquiesced. Naturally, the hint was insufficient, and so he demanded a thorough explanation. When I refused to give him this explanation over the phone during his smoke break, he felt it appropriate to tell me I was acting just like his ex wife, to which I replied in text message, “Fuck you, Clitus,” which I meant wholeheartedly, and then, “Your key is on top of the exit sign. I think I have removed all of my things from your apartment,” and finally, “I will take my key when you are free to drop it off on my front porch later today.” At some point in this interchange, he finally decided to stop responding to me. I think it was when I told him in text message that, “YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE for how this is affecting our friendship.”


Later, I texted to him that I am willing to speak civilly. I do not know what the conversation will look like whenever it happens.




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