The Magic of Differences

27 Apr

Its easy to forget
that it ALWAYS
starts out good
feeling fresh
lots of laughter to go around for the both of you.

Every new moment
a magical spark
every touch
new area of the body explored
a minor victory,
merely a precursor
in hope that
you don’t end up hating each other
as a result,
fighting back the urge
to choke the other person (if there were no legal consequences)
to throw a brick through their car windshield
an ending
so inconvenient and unpleasant;
as if there was never a reason to like that person
you once shared a bed with
bared your souls
cut your farts
heard their snores
shared your secrets
let loose desires
and made silent wishes.

it never ends the way its supposed to
or does it?

(Isn’t there a point where one doesn’t need anymore eggs?)

One never goes into a relationship thinking
it will be a waste of time and energy
that a lesson is unnecessary to take
into the next trip with someone
who is (not altogether) different,
that they will encounter a dread of
running into that no so special anymore
someone.

A fruitless endeavor indeed
if friendship or friendliness
or courtesy is no longer
in the picture.
What is to be gained?

One only can hope that
the next time there will be less mistakes
that one will feel more secure,
express thoughts more freely
less harshly
leave with less regrets than the previous trip
see more things to care about
less things to critique
and say nothing to that can’t be taken back.

To realize that you must learn to laugh at your insecurities
and learn to recognize the taste of swallowing jealousy
and laughing at it as well
to not resent that person
because that person is only
a reflection of you
a mirror image of your subconscious

no shrugging of the shoulders
to struggle to remember
(and forget) why it didn’t work out
and move on with newer (less painful) memories

parties agree to disagree
imbalance can lead to
confusion and conflict
wounds tender and raw
loathing and the loss of respect.

(Its no fun no matter which side of the fence you land)

Avoid the urge to dress it up
for fear of seeming too carnal
Avoid the primal urge
to deflect
to lay blame
to denounce
and just accept
that
once upon a time
that moment was shared

before the ugliness
before the deal breakers and the ugly edicts
when the differences were negligible,

before falling into the camps of the forgotten
or the ones who got away
or the ones who never had a chance.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Fog

27 Apr

He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at the ceiling
before he was taken on his bizarre journey.
The ultimate freakout
from an uncertain reality.

The music turned to wallpaper
epiphanies hidden beneath the meanings of song lyrics
bending with guitar solos
deciphering the purpose
of cleaning carpets
working the valet parking lots
at the race track,
and idiotic decisions
resulting in solitude.

Mr. Miniver Cheevy.
So full of shit
so transparent to himself
the truth unavoidable
with no one around to bullshit.
Not he?
Then who?
was he to be
when he returned,
if he returned
from outer space?

Inner space
in a space
that no one could reach him

his isolation
a drug
he needed but did not want.

Perhaps there was no going back,
and why should he?

Who was to benefit from his return
what had he to offer
the world
to himself?

Ready to go
but not ready to be taken
getting too heavy.

Feeling too light,
too good to let go
for if he let go,
no telling where he’d be taken.

Impossible to feel this good and
remain alive.

Floating above it all
as static electricity
seeing from beyond but
unable to express any of it
verbally.

The purples
the lavenders
the light blues
hues
condensed within
a fog,

no hands
no face
no space between
like gases without
solids to fill.

These gentle voices
booming
deep and soothing
from antennae
of a different
frequency

Do
Make
Say
Think

but most of all

DO.

The good times weren’t over
only different.
He didn’t have to be life’s punching bag
if he didn’t want to be.

Stick to his guns
and the path would still be the path
if he chose to leave the path
for out was still in
and the spiral had always been in control.

He wanted to return
to feel naked skin
and freezing rain.

He wanted to return
to clear his family name.

He wanted to return
but he didn’t know how
else to gain control
besides
relinquishing the grips
on the ever maddening madness
he was clinging to.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Geeking out on the Xbox then the Internet

26 Apr

In honor of my thrilling game of NCAA today on Xbox. Epic comeback, 12 points down 4 mins left in the game. game winning 3 with 30 seconds to go. Allen Fieldhouse went nuts!!!!!

My buddy was saying that he didn’t remember Kirk Hinrich being that fast in college so it led us to the old archives.

Mid Life Synopsis:Top 5 thoughts that 18 yr. old BMICK would consider pretty appalling (circa 1997)

19 Apr

#1. I’m really starting to like Marky Mark as an actor.

#2. Some hot fucking chicks at the abortion clinic…….someone should commission Brian Eno to make a “Music for Abortion Waiting Rooms” album. I bet that would alleviate some anxiety for everyone here.

#3. This Justin Timberlake track doesn’t sound all that bad. Some pretty decent production on this song.

#4. I wonder how it would feel to have a girl pee in your butthole……that wouldn’t be gay would it?

#5. Wow. This Xabi Alonzo cat is a pretty good looking dude. I bet he gets all types of honeys.

Just a little gay. But only a little bit right?

Just a little gay. But only a little bit right?

RIP Storm Thorgerson

19 Apr

For those who aren’t hip to him, he was to Pink Floyd what Stanley Donwood is to Radiohead’s cover art.

Geeking out on the internet part 3.14: “The Neil Young Hour”

17 Apr

On those late night drives cruising the highway in the dark, I often referred to the time between 3:00 AM and 6:00 AM as the “Neil Young Hour.” For some reason Neil sounds best when played under these conditions–especially when you get back into the pickup truck after filling up and grabbing a cup of hot coffee.

While We’re at it

17 Apr

RIP Pat Summerall, Dallas Cowboys

17 Apr

A nod to the days of old…………

Geeking out on the Internet pt. 88 : Feeling the Gaps

15 Apr

Stoner X (Circa 2001)

14 Apr

Stumbling out of bed at a time no earlier than noon,
it was easy to forget what day it was.
Every day seemed like a weekend to him
a blur of carb holding
pipe cleaning
resin burning
fast food eating
(in)activity.

Push play on the stereo
raise the rim on the toilet seat
let the the pubic hairs fall where they may
like fallen leaves on a lawn,
coating the orange streak developing
within the cylinder.

The grime works its way along the corners of the walls
bathroom mirror foggy streaked
by errant flings of toothpaste and zit puss.

Dirty dingy mildewed towels
Dirty dingy mildewed tub
no clean underwear
bare beneath the jeans
tie dye t-shirt
Birkenstocks
hemp necklace

Unkempt habits make it
impossible to live with those
who bitch
who nag
who complain
who whine.

Can’t find his keys
beneath the dresser
on the bed
nor the top of the fridge.

But there it was
hidden in the banana seat
where he was cleaning out his bowl
the night before.

Stomach growling
too stoned to cook
no clean dishes anywhere
milk expired
greenish mold inhabiting the loaf of bread.

He calls a friend
loads a bowl
heads out the door
to hang with their high school pals
introduced to each other
through a mutual friend
who reeked of a sweet skunky smell.

Exotic names bandied about
flavors savored
scents explored
with different highs
in a town full of mutual circles
of interest
Venn diagrams
and coincidence.

A sandwich for lunch
a nugget for dessert
big hits,
sore lungs,
watery eyes
raw throats
as they phuck off to Phish and 311
playing “pass the pipe, snake the lighter”
greenies for the newbie
shrouds of clouds
mushroom smoke
hold it til they can’t no mo’
the dank smells
bloodshot cornea
and dirty bong water.

Parent’s money well spent
time well wasted
discussing future plans
of music, shows and travels
watching the people
out on the porch
wondering how could life possibly
be more than waiting for something to happen.

Still so much time left
burning it like a butane
to a fresh bowl
comfortable in their inactivity
until the sun goes down
and its time to go inside
and roll another number
for the on the way back home.

~Edward Austin Robertson