Aidan kicked my ass today.

Beau is home from whitewater. He's gone bringing someone home. We've been drinking good dark wisconsin brewed beers. He seems to stand for so many things that I think are just rediculous about the mainstream media culture in America, yet somehow, he's still great, and I love him ( Read more... )

'the perks of being a wallflower', again a few years later, has thrown me into the same kind of "funk" that was talking about being thrown into after she read it for the first time. It's nothing serious or eye-opening, but it's a significant sort of reminiscient numbness, that is probably important or at least interesting to take note and care of ( Read more... )

My son was three weeks old yesterday. I placed him into his seat, asleep, after reading your last entry--Bryce, and decided to post something ( Read more... )

Early this morning: A Sublime first cigarette on dark coffee; the birds and their gay chirping. I noticed I was wearing black pants and a faded-to-grey Soren Erickson 'The Game of Logging' t-shirt--my father's. I thought "it would be a shame if today, at work, I died and noone knew of such delicious forebodings."

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cozie warmth in the tremendous little world blue,

breast trembling of the slap-chatter clapping madder,

the distilled moonbeams; my dotard's quiet.

a poem for bubba:

he says -
vampires
are cool. you know?

i say -
cool like
a 21 year old: guitaring slam prose,
mohawk in the other hand,
while toeing his asshole
because flexibility is cool too.

and he says -
i am their piano man, a born entertainer
like Billy Joel
and am on medications
because of it.