The Church of Frank

death

And a convo I had with a friend. The \ are where the IM broke to a new line.

My Friend: Do you think you were ever meant to live a different life, maybe in a different period of history?

Me: Sometimes i think i would have liked to have lived in another time/but i never think i was meant for it/because i don’t believe in meaning/meaning is a trick put there by our hearts when we feel lost and we look for reason, because reason /is one of those things that we’re sorta trained to believe is solid and heavy and good and man, /well, if we and reason are connected, then we’re special Continue reading “The Church of Frank”

In My Own Arms is the reason for the season

the worst that can happen
ain’t death, debt, and taxes
i tell you
it’s getting raped and eaten by a bear
foot appetizer
claws and roar at yer back
teeth splitting the pimples
on your shoulder

so i get up
drink water
at 2 17 in the morning
high off the fight
5 hours ago
look out the window
and man i WANT someone
coming over that fence
need a reason for the machete

but it’s wet black quiet
and in the shadows
i know humidity waits
for the sunrise
and that’s ok
cause it’s may in miami
and survival is finding
moments of cool:
90 mph on my arms
the hairs
a million record player needles
scratching out
a song that starts
with a big fucking
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

This is the shape of my head tonight

shape of my head 4-29-09

Dropped the bike off for its first service today, and it’ll be 400 beans for them to do things I could do without, I’m sure. Very nice lady at the service counter, though. She somehow managed to appear at the back of the shop before me, even though I’m pretty sure I started heading over there before her. I might be scared of this woman, except for her gorgeous greenbluegray eyes, which draw you in, like free money. In other news, the Heat lost. Dwyane Wade got knocked the fuck out a couple times, but to be honest, he looked like he was hamming it up. I wish PJ Brown was still on the team so I’d know with a certainty that someone from the other team was going to be flipped over. Gotta figure out what to do this weekend if I don’t win the lotto tonight. Speaking of which… (goes off to check tickets)

Looks like I’ll be going to work tomorrow. Same old nothing. But the weekend, perhaps the weekend can be greenbluegray eyes for me versus the vacant dull brown half open orbs that are the work week.

Rides

IMG_0383bIMG_0391

Been riding the past couple weekends. We went to Key Largo last weekend. A ride that should’ve taken us till mid-afternoon round trip, ended with me closing my fence at around 7:30 in the evening. Lou’s bike wouldn’t start once he arrived at the rendezvous, so we jumped the battery, and followed him home to make sure he got there ok. We went to Carraba’s for lunch and jumped on the turnpike for the ride South, where my bike proceeded to stop three times; because I’m unintelligent. Turns out the bike was low on gas and all I had to do was hit the reserve switch. Off we went to refill on gas, and head on down to Largo. Originally we were going to take Card Sound Road and head to Alabama Jack’s, but we already had food in our bellies, so we took the main road, which I can never remember if it’s US-1 or if it has some special beachy name.

By the way, I’m going to say it, I don’t care who’s listening: Ricky, you’re not going in the front anymore. You ride too slow and when you’re in the middle, you leave too much of a gap. You’re going in the back and you’ll catch up when you can.

Back to the ride. Continue reading “Rides”

Quillains

I have another website for no good reason, to be honest, at www.quillains.com. The idea is that this is a place for me and my intarnetz friends to post creative works. Right now, all I’m posting on there is a comic “book” I’m doing with my friend, Chris Turner. It’s called Sparks and it’s a superhero dealie. I can’t go into more details because the story is unfolding. Pages 1, 2, and 3 can be found by clicking on those numbers. We’re trying to do a page a week, but we’re behind by a couple weeks already because I started late. I’m on the 1’s and 2’s with writing and drawing skills. Chris Turner is rolling on the 3’s and 4’s with color and lettering duties.

The Devil is in the Details-writing assignment

There’s an old story goes like this: The Devil, so old and long, so hated and reviled, often chose to forget parts of his life so he could experience things anew. Once upon the Devil’s forgotten memories, he fell in love with a woman from the day she was born. He saw her grown in the future, beautiful with long dark hair that would whiten gracefully in the winter of her life. He made sure her chest would defy gravity and that her figure would always stay inside an invisible bottle. Her father regaled her youth with great poetry and stories.  When she grew up, she didn’t care for money, ambition, an artist’s brush, a singer’s voice, or any art but that of the written word. As her beauty grew, The Devil watched her go through the world shunning all manner of men, fortune, and offerings and he truly felt her a kindred spirit. For he also shunned the desires of people far and wide: sicknesses on archaic, scribbled-upon altars. He appeared to her one day in his true form, that of the angel, and he read her the poem she always wanted to hear.

Write that poem.

Someone I know Died in Coho Square

under-the-sakura-tree
Under the Sakura Tree by Lye Tuck-Po

The assignment was to write a poem using this picture as inspiration. I was instructed to avoid use of the word: umbrella. This was tough. In the end, I don’t think the poem sounds natural, though I like the idea I came up with for the story of the thing. Here’s the poem I wrote:

Someone I know Died in Coho Square

Remember nine
and walks in Coho Square?
Domo, your giant rot
yanked us on his leash
like wind through flags on ropes.
Then cancer put him down
and his bowl went
with dust in the attic.
After, you brought shade
under the cherry blossoms
even when the world’s ceiling
was blue.
You said Domo’s spirit
lived in that shadow
and the once you let me under
I heard nothing:
silly silence.

Another azure marble day
I find Coho Square again
barely a cherry blossom left
and you
twenty-eight
Thin as the rod
that still holds your patched shade up.
A man carries your baggage now.
Shares your shadow.
Cold demeanors split by aluminum.
Shades on your eyes
Over your head
Coats in summer
and all it took
to turn a girl
into a vampire
was the death of a dog.