DOES SPRAYING DANNON WITH MY PANTS CANNON MAKE ZEN POETRY

hey, so - it's been a second. 

i just wanted to let all five of you know that i have given up writing and have moved onto nothing.  nothing is a very exciting endeavor because, in the end there is none.  as far as nothing goes.

in other news, i have been thinking about stuff you can count on and stuff you can't count on.  specifically in relation to people.  myself included.  i was standing, waiting to pay a bill with my dad (his name is bill) and i was thinking about michael potterly from the anti-delicious society and i was like – “with mike, there are things you can always count on him for and there are things you can always not, and as far things you can’t count on him for goes you can always count on the fact that you can’t count on him so, for the most part – you can always count on him.”

yup, that’s how it goes while paying a bill with bill at a diner. 

disclaimer:  michael potterly does not exist and there is no anti-delicious society.

just in:  a special report from the la vista motel in westchester, california:

my new favorite phrase is:

"spraying dannon with my pants cannon."

i came up with that one while talking to my neighbor.  we were discussing very important matters regarding life and what not - probably the difference between running around softening edges and slamming tripping hazards flush with a hammer, adorning shit with tinsel and those amazing optical illusion light box waterfall setting things at car washes and psychiatrists offices – because if there is something wrong with you and you are at the shrinks you mine as well look at something awesome in the waiting room because that’s what men and women do: 

in other words we were discussing the vigil-hope-blight-expectation-blotter-quiet-bug-bite-open-apathetic-this is the way-this is the story-this is why-this is the inexplicable-the sand and sand traps-and other stuff like caddy shack was a great movie and so was groundhog day-as well as other variations of this and that and what not where in the end we agreed - or so i frame that we are not dead but watching . . . and as far as this process goes:  dragon style, monkey style, technical manual, flip books, paint pens, river dancing - yes all - each and everyone of us are still on the hunt.   

nothing to be alarmed about. 

i leave “hunt” to the definition of free will and the way it shares genes with time. 

illustration:  time and free will at thanksgiving

friends:

we get marks as we make our way - but there is no making it.

there are no rewards for your achievements.
your suffering does not make you special.
we get marks as we make our way.
but there is no making it.
it comes.
no matter which way we go
it comes.  no matter what
we do, our best laid plans get
lay to waste.

these days, i couldn’t be any happier with
this eye-less quirk. 

our world view,
our protestations,
for or against,
our defiance,
of or for,
as in our overtures.
our cons.
our games.
our lack of game.
which is a game.
our fine design
our orchestration
our time on the couch
in the shit convalescing
over goji berries sipping on
malt liquor on wicker chairs
eating crepes with something
sigh worthy in houston
texas
with device
feeling bright and alive
soon to be followed with
chemotherapy and karate
death.

holy smokes. 
e-gad.
you sank my battleship.
connect four. 
“there can be only one”.
there is nothing to be done.
then,
yahtzee. 

in retrospect, all is magic. 

i will take it bit by bit.
i will not shy away from any of it. 

there are no rewards for my achievements.
my suffering does not make me special.
i get marks as i make my way.
but there is no making it.
it comes.
no matter which way i go
it comes.

the process is not unlike buying a new pair of shoes with big
fat laces of amnesia.

or spraying dannon with my pants cannon.

for me

it is the thing that needs no-doing
and the feeling that comes when
the need to wrap my hands around
the neck of a heart (my heart) that needs
un-doing
gets un-done

and the feeling is fantastic

sometimes, like right now. 

like coupling yogurt with cock warfare. 

Comments

[yoga guy]

liked the poem - first part is engaging then it hit a funny nerve - guess that's what insights do - keep up the good work - i also like the drawings - nice art...makes the site have a good look and feel