Saturday….December 19th…I’m not paranoid…nor am I from Scandinavia…but I wish we had a few more Tar Pits and Peat Bogs a little closer….

“Neon Star Shine” 2009

“Fame is a bee. / It has a song / It has a sting / Ah, too, it has a wing” – Emily Dickinson

Montara California…there on the coast…where the fog heaps up like wads of cotton…on those winter days…before the sun really has a chance to make a stand….I didn’t count the months…or the years….I counted the brussel sprouts….and how many times they grew…..and how many times I’d drive by the same field…that was then barren…oil black earth….waiting for another round…I gave up counting after awhile….it was like those grains of black sand on the big island….shiny glass….lost its razors edge….but the surf smelled like ocean…no matter where I could close my eyes….hear those gull sounds…and my voice…scream out further than the day before…that I knew…that…I was certain there was much more to this than what I held in the palm of my hand….today…what that was…seemed unknown…elusive…maybe more of a brush with something…an idea of sorts…or maybe it was like a fabric touching skin….where we know…yet know nothing at all….or maybe it’s more like rolling over onto the warm place in the bed…she just left….there was something though…the mystery was in those coastal nights…where the raccoons…tried untying all of the knots on the tarp….to get at that fish smell….and find it was myth….only a lingering fragrance…from…a dinner…on the patio….while the mist settled hard….that night….and I prayed…I was the only one left on the planet…..the sole survivor….

she looked me straight in the eyes and said…”You should be a cowboy”…….in Germany they would call you “ober”…talented…I didn’t know if that meant I really sucked…and all of this time I had convincingly fooled myself…into  thinking  my art work balanced on the edge of good…or if the minute I stepped foot into Germany…the sirens and bells would go off….like I was the one Millionth customer…it was a…”What does that mean”sort of conversation…like trying to get a foreign language when you know every 5th or 6th word….it becomes a scavenger hunt….rather than a conversation….and the word “But” does not mean “Ass”….so there in lies part of the original problem…similar to the original sin….I mean after the original…the rest are just copies…..counterfeits….knockoffs…..so then really is there sin after the original…or is it just driving the same commute… day after day…looking for something new to hit in ….the road….you can be the wildebeests…or the predator…either one has its advantages and liabilities…at least with the wildebeests….there are a bunch of you and the choices are greater…odds of survival….a little better…and everybody kind of looks alike…like kids wearing uniforms in a private school…hard to distinguish one from another…or another from another….so lions or migratory mammals…..birds of a feather…or all of those weird things that periodically churn up in the peat bogs in Scandinavia…the choice is kind of ours…but not really…so choose wisely even if the choices are limited…..I mean after all….nobody wants to be in a museum….because you fell into a tar pit a few thousand years ago and now your perfectly preserved….

the window was fogged to a point of looking like a bad eye disease….she was questioning my mental stability and I…well I was wondering if I had ambliopia….or the fog on the glass was a temporary….issue or something we were going to be working on for the better part of the day…I could see her lips moving…I could hear John Lee Hooker singing…but somehow… there was a syncronization problem that plagued the entire conversation… ”Did you take your medication” she asked me….I thought…”medication”… then all of the words that rhymed….fornication mastication…. masturbation…contemplation…and quickly realized every word with either “tion” or “sion” was a rhyming word…so I could give up writing the Fibonacci numbers in the notebook and move directly to the words that rhyme with “Medication”…man were things looking up….so now when I walked down the street talking to myself…instead of adding…I could be sort of saying poetry in a sense…you know with the rhyming words…people would think nothing of a poet talking to himself…but just a regular guy doing Fibonacci numbers…out loud…there was something most people…just were not going to get…..now if I were a mathematician…or even Italian I probably could have gotten away with it…see mathematician…sort of rhymes with medication….”Yes” I answered…”I did”….you did what……

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