frustration of sorts, designed to pass in disappointment

you, new. looks very likely to be a reconstituted, over painted version of old. my bad.

the subtle oversight, the passive response, aggressive result. examples to remind me of how little of a step i stand on at the front of the very long path to your front door.

painting your declaration with black paint on green poster board, you would only give the minimum and i would make up the rest. and now as i have made us into friends you are still painting the same old tired plan, sorry ass bendy paper and chipping paint. a bore with no effort, which leaves you with the lowly grade of D-isappointment.

and i'm sitting in a flimsy lawn chair in summer shorts being buffeted and accosted by your frigid nor'easter holding no real belief that i'm the victim to your monster. i play stupid on tv for as long as it pays the bills. but let's be honest we all know i knew.

anna nicole smith

she is dead on a floor she doesn't own and it's the last upper or downer she'll take and i saw the video of the coroner wheeling her body out of the van, covered in a crushed velvet body bag. it suited her.

i am so sad and me thinks somebody's laughing but she was a stunning goddess, fat and thin. she may or may not have been as stupid as a bag of rocks, she was my marilyn monroe.

i can meditate on her beauty and see god. i can feel her breath as she sleeps in her last stupor, and can hear it forced in and out of her during cpr and i can hear it leave, no more and done. she is now a stone, dead and her body will be cut open to find the uppers, downers or murders the scandal makers are praying for.

they will cut the beauty up and i will not receive one piece, not one morsel of skin and there will be no more pictures of her to take but the one i want most. her on a slab made into meat and beautifully dead. if only for my ability to lay peace to this notion of her silly sweetness being no more.

hortense and the baby

Hortense asked the baby, 'why for the toy?' this twisty knob to make a music and to dance lightly with much falling and a coo reminiscent of little doves and weak baby kittens.

horsely Hortense whispered her perplexity and realized babies aren't of the same fears she bricked herself in and the whispers she sent into the current of baby's ear were giggled at. Hortense, shifted and clamored, hoisting her big bad Sad onto the cart and took it to market hoping someone would take it from her

white girl

I finally got back into my neighborhood from a red eye flight from Phoenix and a two hour train ride from JFK. I stumbled into the corner store and asked for a black coffee. My favorite guy behind the counter responds, "Black, like you?" and I said, "Yes please."
He stops pouring, turns to me smiling, giving me the opportunity to replay what he just asked so i may truly relish in it's hilariosity. I almost fell over in a spaz of hysterics.

After giving him the response he expected he resumed pouring.

I suppose if you don't know me this may not seem funny. I am a member of the whitest of Caucasian Caucasians. All of my people were from frigid lands, people who were either vikings or conquered by vikings. And this my friend is why my favorite arabic guy behind the counter is a funny muthafuka.