Friday, September 30, 2005

Two Guys, Two Games—Act I

by John R and Ray W

(J and R are sitting in comfortable chairs. J has the remote and is looking for a baseball game on TV, going through other non-baseball channels quickly.)

R: Right? But then you’re like, we got Pedro goin’ tomorrow against Clemens and we’re gonna win this one. And then Pedro’s out to a 2-0 lead and he gives up two in the 7th or 8th right?

J: Yeah.

R: Seventh. And then it’s tied and then fucking they lose it in the ninth, ya know?

J: Mm.

R: So then tomorrow they gotta face Mussina. Heh. And they’re goin, I think they’re throwin Nomo tomorrow.

J: That could be…

R: It could be a really good match-up if Nomo is pitching as good as he is, you know?

J: That, that could be a great game.

R: I would think it’d have to be. So, ya know, but Boston…

(J finds a baseball game)

J: Fuck! Rangers/A’s?

R: What?! Those are like the worst two teams in the major leagues, man.

J: Uggghhh.

R: Like the A’s and the Rangers have both gotten off to horrible starts.

J: That blows.

R: How could they not fuckin…

J: Pujols is number 68?

R: No, he changed it.

J: Yeah, he changed it?

R: To, I don’t remember what it was. It’s like 5.

J: Yeah.

R: Because the Cardinals hav a lot of low numbers. ‘Cause Drew’s seven—

J: They don’t have any—

R: Edmonds is 15…

J: Are there any sports players who wear number 69? I don’t think there are. Some…

R: It’d be interesting to find out who wears 96 though. ‘Cause those are probably the ons who wanted to wear 69 and they couldn’t. Like see who’s personality is 96, ya know? Like a Turk Wendell-type guy.

J: That’d be an interesting story…who wears 69? You could pr’y write it, too.

R: Well, you, I’m not writin it.

J: You have access to what you would need to write it, though, ya know? I don’t.

R: Myou-hah-ha-hah.

J: So…

R: I think for it to be best we would have to write it together.

J: Yeah.

R: Like, I would have to write a rough draft…

J: Uh-huh.

R: …And give you basically the types of characters I wanted.

J: Yeah.

R: And you would have to put in all the good literary shit.

J: Alright.

R: To make it deeper.

J: Um-hm.

R: I’m gonna go have a cigarette.

J: I mean, we can go out there.

R: Alright. Well, whatever. I don’t care.

J: L— Let’s go out there actually. Yeah.

R: So, yeah. I just want you to come because it’s been perfect weather and good games.

J: Yeah.

R: And like, the grass, dude, is awesome.

J: Yeah, the grass looks good.

R: ‘Member last year?

J: Last year?

R: Last year, ya know? Like there isn’t a patch this year. There isn’t even like a 1-foot little area anywhere on the field that isn’t perfect. Like somehow the mound, in front of the mound, and like where the outfielders stand, where it was doin that last year? They’re perfect.

J: Yeah, Richie!

R: Listen to that.

J: Aw, he just hit a solo…

R: Milwaukee’s crowd is not very loud. Dude, the Brewers with Sexson and Burnitz…

J: God, man…he just, he just whipped that ball.

R: Dude, the Brewers have the next best player on their team. Because they signed Sexson to, like, a four-year deal before the year. Like really cheap. Like four years, twenty million or something like that.

J: Look at that guy, man.

R: I’m tellin’ you, he’s gonna be awesome. And Milwaukee’s got him locked up.

J: Yeah.

R: And he chose to stay in Milwaukee/. Like, that’s the good thing about it is, I want to see Milwaukee be good. And now they got Jamey Wright, and, ah, D’Mico, ya know? They’ve got two good starters now—that are both young. Like, I want to see Milwaukee be good. I saw the interview of Sexson before last season, when he was still with Cleveland. And that was when he had really short hair and it was died. He’s such a California surfer.

J: Yeah.

R: He’s like, I can’t believe they pay me to do this. He’s still young, he still has—

Watching Twin Peaks

by John R and Adam E

(Jazz is playing somewhat loud in the background, Miles Davis blaring a trumpet. J and A are sitting in some basic, spare chairs, a room removed from a living room with more comfortable chairs, carpet, and a television.)

J: It was like, ah, what were you just sayin?

A: Yeah.

J: Yeah.

A: I’ve been talking a lot of shit for no reason. It’s like funny things come out of my mouth. I think I’ve just been, like, explaining all my thoughts. I don’t, I don’t even know why I shared that, that ah, I can’t really discern what to share right now. Would, ah, playin pool be any fun or did you want to start watching “Twin Peaks?”

J: I’m ready for “Twin Peaks.”

A: You can have some of this or you can have some of that. Alright. Let’s move over there, if you’re down. Or, you can stay there and…

J: (Mouth is full on submarine sandwich)

A: Eat those pretzels. (Laughs)

***

J: See, I have a bad, a bad memory of him.

A: Oh, Ok. Oh really? Yeah, well he’s not a great guy. But…but, ah, he introduced, well we smoked a lot anway and we would always have this thing, like, usually when you’re smokin weed you leave this trail of consumption ‘cause usually you just go through like weed and stuff, ya know…I can just see how people, you know, get locked in to a trail of consumption and it’s really… Anyway, he’s coming up for WILD.

J: Oh really.

A: Yeah. And I told him— I told you this cause, ah— I was trying to get some absinthe. But that was based on whether or not I won that book collection, which I still haven’t heard about and it’s already Friday, and it pisses me off. Everything is conducive to everything else. But anyways, he’s coming back up for WILD. Are you guys not friends?

J: No—

A: He’s made a lot of enemies. I wasn’t really—

J: I— I don’t really—

A: I mean, it’s not like he’d say anything. Well, he’s coming up anyway. I’m not going to be sitting with Beta: that’s for sure. I don’t know what I’m going to be doing at WILD. I think I might go with a girl, which I’ve never done before. So fuck it.

J: I don’t know if I’m even gonna go.

A: I mean, Crazytown’s, it’s gonna be a blast John, it’s gonna be a blast.

J: I mean, I don’t know who they are; I don’t care who they are.

A: Exactly. This WILD is like the ultimate bullshit. I don’t know what I’m gonna have to be on to enjoy it. ‘Cause WILDs are shit. Some of ‘em are good, but especially this one…

J: Did you follow any of the, ah—(Adam starts coughing)—what Bill and— ah, what Taylor and Bengaly were going back and forth about WILD bands.

A: Last year?

J: No, it was earlier this year.

A: I caught them last year. I mean, I know that dude always gets flack. Are you guys friends?

J: Who?

A: Bengaly?

J: No.

A: He’s Stud Life, though, isn’t he?

J: Mm-hm.

A: You know what’s funny on our tape? Is that, ah, toothpick and you’re smokin weed. That audio tape I have from last time, last week. And you say, “I had a toothpick last week.” (Laughs) And it was so natural, it was the most natural thing you said.

J: Hm.

A: Are we gettin Kramer, cause you said earlier…

J: Mm-hm.

A: Are these the actual tapes or are these recorded? These are your recorded ones, right?

J: No.

A: This is Ray’s original? That you bought for fuckin Christmas. For some reason I thought there were two copies floating around. I know Phil has one.

J: Oh, yeah, yeah. Phil does have a copy. I don’t know what I’m talking about.

(J gets up and turns off the music; at some point earlier, John and Adam moved into the living room and sat in the more comfortable chairs)

J: Alright Miles. (As he turns off the music)

A: That’s a great fucking shot right there. I’ve never noticed that. You know where you see that? You see that somewhere else…shit…maybe I was looking at the cover of the box, I don’t know.

J: Yeah, I don’t know.

A: You know that painting I was talking about at the coffee shop?

J: (John has a quizzical look)

A: Nevermind. I’ll show it to you at some point, but we’re not going to talk about it. I’ll fuckin have to write that down, otherwise I’ll forget about it. They took down my favorite painting in that place. It’s gone.

J: (Burp)

(From the television, the idyllic “Twin Peaks” theme starts up)

A: I looked up shit on Joan Chen. She’s pretty much been like a standard actress for like the last three decades.

(Both of them laugh)

A: Hasn’t done anything of worth, but ah, like, she did some shit on cooking last year, for the holidays…(laugh) I’m gonna get this out before this comes on. (laughing) Oh shit. But she directed something that’s supposed to be really good. That’s all I really wanted to say. Ok.

(The show is now in progress)

A: That’s that old lady, the log lady.

J: No, that wasn’t the log lady.

A: Fuck it, I really am not going to be able to watch this.

J: That’s…

A: Directed by Tim Hunter…? Fuck.

J: Who’s that?

A: Did you ever see that before? Maybe it’s just this episode.

J: It’s probably…

A: Fuck. Do you know who Tim Hunter is?

J: No.

A: Weird fucking guy. All I know is, I’ll tell you this real quick.

(The phone starts ringing from the next room; John goes over to it)

J: Hold on.

(Second ring, third ring, fourth; John comes back into the living room)

J: I’m not gonna get that.

A: He did something called River’s Edge, like 1989, Keanu Reeves is in it. It’s a stoner movie. Dennis Hopper is in it. Ah, he’s got this really weird, quirky—I wouldn’t say quirky actually—I think, he just does a lot of whatever—he’s, he’s a, I kind of see how he goes with Lynch though. The seem like compatible directors.

J: What was the other thing that we were talking about?

A: Joan Chen?

J: (Laughs,) yeah we were talking about Joan Chen, but something else…

A: Before that?

J: Oh, that girl, it wasn’t the log lady. That’s Laura Palmer’s cousin. She just came into town; looks just like ‘er.

A: Oh, Ok. Different actress though?

J: No.

A: Ok.

J: So it’s s’poseta be Laura Palmer’s cousin.

A: Ok.

(The “Twin Peaks” episode continues on in the background. The soap opera within the show, “Invitation to Love,” comes on. Lucy is watching it.)

A: I thought about this. I’ll tell you later. I know what “Invitation to Love” is all about.

(Sheriff Truman says to Lucy, “What’s going in?” She launches into a rundown of the show’s convoluted plot. Truman says gruffly, “No. What’s going on here?)

A: Ok. Does it matter…?

J: Does what matter?

A: Should I have gotten any of that?

J: Hm?

A: I didn’t get any of that.

J: Get any of what?

A: What she just said.

J: Oh. I didn’t get any of it.

A: It’s not important? It’s just rattling off?

J: Yeah, she’s just giving the plot of the “Invitation to Love.”

A: Oh! Ok.

J: He just walked in and is like, “What’s goin on?”

A: Oh, what’s going on here. Ok.

J: And she just explained—

A: Ok, yeah, yeah, yeah…. I’m just…

J: Wh—

A: I’m just gonna say one thing. You know how he has two different-tinted lenses. We were talking about, like, 75 percent off. Oh. I’m almost for certain that, ah, Audrey has got two different eyes. But maybe I’m just over-seeing that. But whatever it is that I can’t place, it’s still, there’s something off. Which is, if, if we end up doing something like this, it’s making it so seemless that you can’t tell. ‘Cause I’ve been trying to pinpoint it and there’s something always you can’t put a finger on with this. (Clears throat) And trying to make something like that. I mean, what is it that we can’t always put a finger on? But that, that’s the quality that it has to have.

(They quiet down and focus their attention on the show)

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Into Eden

I
Warlocks sip on potent teas
and wipe their hands across their knees.
As Grandpa fixes whirled peas,
a moustached man decries, decrees.

Wait a sec, I’ve gotta sneeze—
these god-forsaken allergies—
might you grab a kleenex please?
It’s something in this desert breeze.

Outside, it’s just about to freeze.
The needle sticks on thirty-three degrees.
Afresh, afresh, the budding trees
will, like peaches, die in this spring’s freeze.

II
Grown-up kids, who cut the cheese?
Smells like ... stocking insecurities.
His and hers? Or mine’s and me’s?
Zeroes, ones, and twos, yes threes!

As paintings hang in galleries,
balloons inflate (not salaries).
Accountant-fashioned fudgeries?
They’re tragedies, not travesties.

Pop, your whim I will appease—
“He who smokes too much will wheeze.”
We sail a-high on rising seas,
so why not bank on our debris?

III
A tanker’s tipping off Cadiz
as plumage flocks from X Valdez.
The Skipper lifts a leg and pees,
we work for oil companies.

O, Midol, help us get our Z’s;
undo the knots in our tummies;
let our eyes slip back with ease,
as photos snap our liberties.

They hit the road in boarish humvees,
even flying daily sorties.
“If it sticks, try elbow grease.”
Or: just rip apart her dungarees.

And why not laugh at retardees?
Their bus is bound for chimpanzees.
B-dee b-dee b-dee b-dees.
“Now let us see your papers, please.”

—JACK RANDALL
December 2002

My Pet Computer

My humanity begins when
I treat this computer like a person.

I restart it when it needs a boost.
Just like using ECT to scrape gunk
from the gutters of our brains.

Or, I put it to sleep when it needs a rest,
taking care to let it lie
neither too long nor too often.

Because, like everyone else,
it needs to stay plugged into the system.
It’s got a job it’s supposed to do.

Complaint at Age 26



I won’t lie
but I’ll come close
to comitting a crime.
Which do you prefer?

Your happiness?
Or, me honest but behind bars?

A downfall is that
no one ever explained
why I should put
your happiness before mine.

Because you got me here?
I said, “Thanks.”
I send Christmas cards.

Y’all tell me
to enjoy life
to have a nice weekend
to do what I love
happy birthday.

But nothing’s been better
than smoking smokes with friends.
What’s your response to that?
What’s this obsession
with my profession?

All I need is food and drink.
If it weren’t for crowds
pavement and classrooms
(I need no more schooling),
I could manage myself.

We bloviate and stipulate—
we drown in this economy—
but the Indians
have never been the same.

Things I've Googled

akhnilo
amy huntington block jenner
antique wedding rings
austin “house of nuts”
aveland, halsted chicago

back pillow
barthelme kind of writing
bas bleu book dart
basketball star “Roof Top”
berlin chicago belmont
book without any e’s
book value 1998 jeep grand cherokee

Cabernet Franc
Caribou Ferry schedule
carmina burana mp3
carnivale second season DVD
cracked feet, cure
current hit streak

chicago best house music
chicago cheap sunglassses michigan ave.
chicago liquor store
chicago place blues
chicago place buy beer

dancing rabbit ecovillage
dao thai restaurant
darts
deacon blue
draught house austin

earth day 2005
eeyore independence
egg foo yong
einstein’s bagels
ethan allen

farewell and goodnight lyrics
fedora nova scotia
filene’s basement michigan avenue
fish & chips
four countries quartet

galway bay 500 diversey
game scores baseball
guildhall, Vermont 05905
gum biddie

hefeweizen list
heritage harbour house inn
hiroshima taph
hookah 2057 w. north
hubbard cigar espresso

Independence Brewing
independence Brewing austin
isaac suggs
isaac suggs bolingbrook
isaac suggs tech

james tate allen tate
jameson
jazz station
jeremy taylor jenner
jones art austin

k/bb ratio
kaiser jewelry jefferson city
katrina refinery safety
kermit roosevelt
kwiat

lady start chicago fire
lance niekro joe phil
language iceland
led zeppelin lord of the rings
life times elvin jones
lost next new episode

madison capital
marginal profit
martial law new orleans
mulholland drive crying
my pie chicago

natural remedies for toenail fungus
nick adams chicago
noodleism austin
Northfield, MA
nu age cafe

o mio bambino caro
opal devine’s
orff

powell’s 828 s. wabash
pernod ricard
Pictou Ferry schedule
place buy hats
poison ivy cure

q star trek

rca xl 100 remote code
red larkspur
ring settings
rowan’s maker’s mark
ruedrich

sales tax rate per state
sievert law outline
sievert u.s. law outline
squish
subterranean books delmar

the bicycle thief greatest
the one constant through all the years ray
therapy pillow
three rivers stadium monongahela
TIB stands for

u.s. beer company clybourn
united pension 7th
united pension law
university of missouri, columbia

village tap
vehicular assault austin student

washington university sit in
water hops barley that’s all
waveland & halsted, chicago IL
who is the old guy in the coke commercial
www.zenith.com
when people stop wearing hats

you will see me one more time if you do good

zax pints plates
zenith remote code
zenith remote code’

Triage



Put down your forcefield, sugar.
I grew my hair this way for you.
Do you see the skin of which I dreamt?
Torn to and fro, it reveals pools of co-habitation.
Supplies like bread, and soda, and diapers.
I can get these things for you — free-like.

We’ll have a hot time in the old city tonight, sugar.
For which do you care more — bourbon or gin?
Don’t spin your way out of here, not just yet.
I’ve got ways to free us from this island of dark sweat.
The canoe of opportunity, carved for me and you.

This town has never been a finer sculpture of mud and chemicals.
The skies have charmed it free of its alcoholic businessmen.
Let them comb hotel-room carpets looking for lost contact lenses.

We shall take our moldy crown in the throes of lineage, having outlasted
plaided Acadians, discombobulated Americans, and fur-trading French.

With the water feeding at our breast
here we are again waiting for the man,
wary of the man.

The sound of machinery sucking our gay city dry.

Restless Leg Syndrome



There really is such a thing.

I have it, and tonight
I can’t sleep because
my legs are all astir.

Running things through my mind—
a phone call I will make tomorrow.

What I’m turning down
is an easy answer
to hated questions:
What do you do?
What will you do when you graduate?
Then why’d you go to law school?

My legs run in search
of makeshift solutions.

Plane Over Clouds


Because of the clouds, I like flying.
Plains of clouds, mountains.
This plane rose until it was
just above the cover.
You can’t do that in a Cessna.

The clouds dune, eddy.
They make a quilt, one that’s gotten
too much use, so that
finest soft cotton purges through.

I see x’s and o’s out there,
the signs of love at the end of a letter,
a child’s simple game.
This is the blue sky,
this is the moon.

Ponds of clouds, with their own ripples.
Cumulus, stratus, cirrus,
alto, undulatus, lenticularis.
Study the names of indifferent white.
They know how to be flat
because they listen to the air,
to the light, to the absence of heat.

I see the shapes of the 50 greatest states,
all in one big cluster, like grapes,
or like grade schoolers
posing for their picture in the yearbook.
Let me have you on the end of a wand,
so I can stick you in my ear
to wipe away the dirt.

Furrows, folds of the brain.
Gray matter capable of all,
but no reason.
Breasts without nipples,
curves only a tongue can trace.
From here to the sun,
unlucky space.


America Under Attack


This is jihad, know it?
Call them bastards, Mr. Senator.
Run it as a headline.
It’s an assault on our lifestyle.

Metal is scattered in Somerset County.
Flight 11, that left Boston for Los Angeles?
Only went so far as New York.
Flight 77, from Washington to LA?
No further than the Pentagon.

Divert things to Canada.
Take care not to inhale billowing smoke.
Evacuation! Lock down! The Capitol!
"We had no intelligence on this…."
This is the result of complacency!
Today, our gov’t failed the American people.

They hit our Economic center.
They hit our State building.
They hit our Defense building.

Giving blood
is completely safe & perfectly necessary.
The hospitals
are packed and absolutely overwhelmed.

This is staggering!
What does the Taliban spokesman say?
We say: “This is war in the 21st century.”

Wakil Ahmed Mutawaked.
How do you pronounce that?
"This is an act of war by madmen."

No warning,
no credible claims of responsibility.
Bin Laden’s group has issued denials.

We will have to go to space where they can’t get us.
Disneyworld, Disneyland: they’re closed.
The U.S. will hunt down & punish
those who were responsible for the attack.

“When you have a free and open country
we are vulnerable to this sort of thing.”

They are calling it an act of war
i.e. Archduke Ferdinand
i.e. the Zimmerman Note
i.e. the Gulf of Tonkin.

The resolve of our nation is being tested.
Make no mistake.
Our country will pass this test.

“Hm, hmm…” bin Laden scratches his chin
at age 18. “Let’s get some bombs.”
He reaches into his pocket and
finds some currency. “I’ve got
ten shillings, how much do you guys have?”

The American ideal is to lose life
but to gain its cause.


What You Were Before You Were This

by John Randall and Ray Wisdom

Two twenty-something men sit at a long wooden table in the main room of a one-bedroom apartment. There is a big bong on the table and each of them has a highball in front of him. The window is open. It is breezy and warm, the breeze comes into the apartment. It’s Sunday.

Ray: If there were, if there a finite and stable number of souls, when the universe was created—right?—because the reason I brought up the whole thing with “nothing can exist independently except the sun”—the reason I thought of that is ‘cause Zac was sayin that we’re made up of, like, trillions of cells.

John: Mm-hm.

Ray: You know, are they, since they’re living, are they considered—do they have souls?

John: Cells?

Ray: Yeah. And I say “no” because they can’t exist independently of us.

John: Mm-hm.

Ray: You know, we, our souls created themselves. That’s what I said.

John: Mm-hm. But, we have a soul, and we’re not independent.

Ray: Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m trying to figure out how to define “soul.”

John: I mean, if “soul” is, well…

Ray: It’s tough.

John: Because in the very least, it would be dependent on having a body to exist, or at least to be known.

Ray. Yeah. I, I definitely think though that, like, a human might have a soul, but, like, its parts don’t have souls.

John: Yeah.

Ray: Because a heart doesn’t have a soul, because it’s useless without the other parts of the body, you know?

John: Mmm…

Ray: Like, granted, you can, “Then, well humans are useless without the earth….”

John: Yeah.

Ray: But, I mean, where you draw the line with that, you know?

John: Well, humans could be but their souls might not be.

Ray: Yeah, that’s true.

John: Of course, this is, so you’re, ahhh, definitely separating them?

Ray: Separating what?

John: Mind and, or, sould and body?

Ray: Yeah.

John: OK.

Ray: Yeah, but, see I don’t think that, ahh….

John: Have you, have you ever read much about that?

Ray: No. That’s why I need to read that Aristotle book ‘cause he talks a lot about, ah, about the sould and, um, whether or not, you know, like, whether or not you remember from past lives. You know? Like if you have, ah, a rec — if you have recollections of what you were before you were this.

John: If you were something before you were that….

Ray: Yeah, exactly. See, an amoeba could have a soul.

John: (Clears throat)

Ray: Because it’s, it’s a, you know, a…it’s it’s own thing. But, like, a skin cell doesn’t.

John: You’re talking a wh— a wh— you’re talking the only way, oh! An amoeba, can have a soul—

Ray: ‘Cause it’s a…

John: One-celled organism.
Ray: …One-celled organism.

John: (In the background:) Yeah, hmm. I had a book on the whole, ah, fuckin’, Descartes Method, on, ah, what are the two theories? There’s dualism and….

Ray: (Coughs)

John: I used to be really into that stuff. What is the other theory?

Ray: Do you trade books in at Subterranean?

John: Yeah.

Ray: That’s not bad.

John: I think I might, I think I might, yeah, I think I might have, ah, given that book to them…. (Exhales. Gets up and gets water for him and Ray)

Ray: Gracias. That’s a tough subject to tackle.

John: Yeah. Tough subject for anybody to tackle.

Ray: Yeah, I know. But I mean like, ah…

John: Oh yeah, I know what you mean.

Ray: I definitely want to get more—

John: It’s great to talk about.

Ray: More versed on it, you know. And, yeah, the best way to, to work it out is to talk to people about it. I think.

John: Mm-hm.

Ray: You know, ‘cause they may point out things that you didn’t think about.

John: Mm-hm.

Ray: Zac asked me if he though, if I thought that there were the same number of souls on the earth, well, no, the original question was— “Do you think there’s more organisms on the eart now than there were, like, a trillion years ago?”

John: Mm-hm.

Ray: Not a trillion, but, you know. And I said that it’s probably, it’s probably about the same. If, if it’s anything it’s less.

John: Than at the inception, you mean?

Ray: Yeah. Like, say like—

John: Well, at the inception, there wasn’t anything.

Ray: Well, no, not at the inception of the world but like, at the point where, like, everything was primordial ooze, right? Like, I mean, if you can consider living organisms to be basically equivalent to one-celled organisms.

John: I don’t know, wouldn’t there have to be more organisms?

Ray: Than…?

John: More organisms now, I mean.

Ray: Yeah, but I mean, there are more diverse kinds of organisms now, but I mean, if everything was a lot smaller then…you know?

John: I mean it just seems to me that at some point, there’d have to be, like, you know, if you’re gonna follow the, you know, the biogenesis theory, that, ah, there was one organism and then—

Ray: Yeah, but at some point it maxed out.

John: Uh-huh.

Ray: Cause, you know, the Earth can only contain so many organisms ‘cause it’s a system. You can’t have an infinite amount.

John: Mm-hm. Yeah.

Ray: So at the point where you level off, you know, that’s like how many organisms the Earth can contain.

John: Mm-hm.

Ray: And, and I, and if there, if there’s anything I think there’d be less now because, one, we kill a lot of shit, you know?

John: Well, this is including all the microscopic stuff, yeah, that’s…a shady area. Umm…fuck, what was I just gonna say?

Ray: (Ray is tapping a drink-stirrer on the table)

John: Well, that question has a counterpoint then if you’re going to do the energy/soul thing.

Ray: Yeah, such as…

John: I can definitely buy the fact that there is one single, consistent amount of energy…

Ray: Yeah, but that’s not true.

John: In the universe.

Ray: Oh, OK, in the universe. I thought you meant the Earth.

John: In the Earth, no.

Ray: ‘Cause, it’s entropic.

John: I mean, if you were going to ask the question about organisms, I would have to include the universe.

Ray: Oh. Within the universe? I would say that number’s in stasis.

John: Just because of stuff cancelling each other out?

Ray: Well, I mean, you have a finite amount of matter at the beginning, right?

John: Yeahh…

Ray: Like, if you can’t create any more energy within the universe then you can’t produce more organisms.

John: Where did the sun get its energy from? From the atom, though, right?

Ray: Yeah, well the sun is just, yeah, I mean, a bunch of helium gets together, or, a bunch of hydrogen gets together, right?

John: So really this question about energy—

Ray: Mass is condensed.

John: Mass is the same question, then, right?

Ray: Yeah, energy and matter.

John: Yeah.

Ray: Yeah.

John: Yeah. That’s the cool part.

Ray: Yeah.

John: Thanks, Albert. (laughs)

Ray: Yeah.

John: Because the sun, the sun gets its energy from atoms that it, you know—

Ray: Combusts.

John: Yeah.

Ray: Yeah, but ye— but now that, as soon as the sun—

John: So that, that—

Ray: As soon as the sun ignited, it became a closed system. And it’s burning energy at all times. There’s no _____ for energy.

John: Stars are basically burning mass then. So, then, wouldn’t everything just go to energy?

Ray: See this, this is the fine line. If everything goes to energy, but then that energy is used to create other things…

John: Aren’t…that’s nice.

Ray: You know? So you’re basically going from matter at point A—

John: How does the energy create other things?

Ray: Well, I mean, because energy, we use energy. Everything that photsynthesizes uses that energy, right? So…

John: But if there’s nothing around to synthesize, then…

Ray: So you’re saying if you just have a sun in deep space with nothing around you…

John: Then it’s just, like, gonna burn out. It’s just gonna be all—

Ray: That’s exactly what the new theory say though, too.

John: Oh really?

Ray: Because it’s saying that there’s so much space between things now and they’re stille expanding that because you’re using three dimension ____, you know, because it’s expanding in three directions, right?

John: I don’t know. Let’s wait for it to get dark and then get the telescope.

Ray: What do we do until then?

(John reaches out and grabs the bong, about to fire it up)

Two Guys Watching Two Games

Two Guys Watching Two Games

by Jack Randall and Ray Wisdom

Background: Lou Reed, The Bells, "With You." The door is open and a pizza man is nervous about not having a pen for Ray. Once they get the pizza, they are sitting on a rug in front of a TV, watching baseball. John has the remote and is switching between two games. One is San Francisco at Milwaukee. The other is Philadelphia at Atlanta. It is April 14, 2001.

Ray: I've got coke, scotch & coke, and beer to choose from.

John: You know, there have been a lot of low-scoring games this season.

Ray: What do you think about Christian Guzman. He’s not gonna give you 140 RBI, but he’s someone you'd want to have on your team.

John: He's having the kind of year we wanted Renteria to have.

Ray: I want him to be like Jeter. Now Viña, on the other hand is a bitch, he's such a little bitch. This is the best pizza I've ever had in my life. Is it unbelievable or what? It's like Imo's pizza. Hey, this is the CD that’s too long for me to burn, right? I'm so fucked up. I'm like - what are we watching?"

(John is just sitting there eating pizza, looking slowly back and forth between Ray and the TV.)

Ray: Think about Rich Aurilia. He puts up good numbers for a SS, but no one knows who he is because Jeff Kent is so much better at his position.

John: Aurilia: 22HR 80 RBI.

Ray: This is why SF is so good - Rich Aurilia, people like that.

(The Giants are on now, Barry Bonds is batting.)

Ray: 28 more stolen bases is going to take him four more years at least. Look at him dude.

John: (Laughs) Yeah, there's no doubt.

Ray: I mean he can still hit 50 HRs, but he ain't gonna steal no 50 bases. He'll steal like 5. We don't appreciate how good Bonds was when he was with Pittsburgh. He was hitting 40 home runs when no one was hitting 40. How did SF get 6 runs? It was 7-1.

John: God, you remember how Mike DeJean used to be with the Cardinals?

Ray: If I could be any athlete, I'd definitely be a baseball player. It doesn't require you to have a great body or even be good looking. You can pretty much get away with whatever behavior you want. You know you're going to get paid...and you're going to get chicks. It is amazing to see these chicks that are in the clubhouse. It is amazing. There's beautiful women trying to get into that clubhouse, or that do get into that clubhouse.

John: Which?

Ray: Both, you know? They're trying to get in and they are gettin in. All these guys are dating hot chicks and there's so many more that are hanging around. Viña, I mean, his girlfriend is like a supermodel. Viña's a little-bitty Mexican. He's a little bitch, just look at him. He's not good-looking at all. He's just like fucking Valentín—that plays for Chicago? Valentín? Dude, I hate that guy. He's such a bitch!

John: You know who's one step worse than Jose Valentín?

Ray: (Laughs) Who?

John: We might see him tonight.

Ray: For Milwaukee? (Laughs) Who? Who we gonna see tonight?

John: Jose…

Ray: Jose...who? I'm drawing a blank.

John: Hernandez.

Ray: Oh, no! That’s right. Remember what we said the first time we did acid? “I'm probably going to puke tonight."

John: Oh yeah.

Ray: I feel so nauseous.

John: I threw up earlier today.

Ray: ...It's a good nauseousness. Just because my whole body is so sensitive to any perception. I can feel myself digesting shit and it makes me nauseous. But it's a good nauseous. This background music is phenomenal. You picked the most perfect background music.

John: (Looking at the TV) The guy on the right looks like he's about to crack up.

Ray: Man, I'm going to throw up looking at this. Look at this guy !

John: The guy in the back, the guy in the back, that guy's still alive. Probably.

Ray: (Laughs)

John: You know? That's the funny thing.

Ray: Shut up John. I'm eating the rest of this pizza.

John: Go ahead. Yeah, you can have more than half, whatever.

Ray: I want my cinnammon bread to be cold.

John: You want it to get cold?

Ray: I want it to get king of hard.

Ray: Buddy Groom is a poor man's...finish my thought for me.

John: I can't. Wayne Gomes is a poor man's Buddy Groom?

Ray: No, Buddy Groom is a poor man's Wayne Gomes. Because Buddy Groom is a washed up 40 year old white guy. And Wayne Goomes is actually pretty decent.

John: I think Gomes sucks. Buddy Groom's actually pretty decent. (Laughs)

Ray: (Laughs) Yeah, you know why? Cause we each had the person on our fantasy team that we think sucks. The grass is always greener, John. That's the perfect example right there. Now, what did I do with that thing? (He’s looking around for something, looks under a chair, gets up to look under where he was sitting, gives up and sits back down) Did you ever notice, I think the world is out to get Milwaukee. Here's why. Look at this shot. It's kind of grainy, right?

John: Yeah…

Ray: But if this was New York or Boston it would be so crisp and clean. Like, we want to perceive Milwaukee as this dirty place. And Cleveland finally got out of that with Jacobs Field. And Milwaukee's just hoping their new ballpark gets them out of that and gets them sharp. Their image has got to get sharp. ‘Member Oakland in the early nineties, when they sucked? And Anaheim? Well, they still suck. But you'd see those games on Tuesday afternoons. There were all day games over there on this field that was really small and it was grainy film and it was like, 'Where are these people playing?' You know? Am I right? When I look back on AL West games, they're always in the middle of the week during the day, when no one cares. And Tiger Stadium was part of this, too—‘cause they all looked really small. Like Tiger Stadium. It's like 200 feet to hit a home run. How do people not hit home runs there all the time? That's what I always thought when I saw Tiger Stadium. But it actually wasn't that small, just down the lines it was. It was big in the middle.

John: Yeah.

Ray: And like it has that feel to it, you know? That's what they're doing in Milwaukee. I bet if you went to Miller Park it would be so fucking beautiful. I mean, think about how much better Busch Stadium is in person than on TV. Look at this field. Doesn't this look so old-school? How I'm acting right now — How I feel right now is how Jack Buck must feel all the time. Because, he's so...like, his mind is still there. But he's totally uncontrolled. He does shit like this. (Makes a jerky movement with his upper body.) And he knows that he should be able to control it but he can't. You know? He's just like this. (Does it again, or maybe goes slack.) And it's got to be the worst fucking feeling. To me, it's really cool right now because I'm just fucked up but you know how you feel like you gotta shit and throw up at the same time when you feel like this? Imagine feeling like that all the time. When your mind's sharp but your body is just falling apart? It's got to be the worst death imaginable, to lose your exterior and your interior's still there and to watch your faculties just go to shit. I can't imagine — and it's going to happen to me I know it. My mind, like, I think I'll always have my mind, but my body's going to fall apart. 'Cause I already have… my neck hurts all of the time and my back? You know, I'm already fucking, I'm like deposing right in front of myself. I'm going to be like that, I'm going to have Parkinson's or something. And it's like depressing as hell to watch Jack Buck give it, but if you just sit there and listen to him, it's amazing. Like, I have so much more respect for that man. Because I can just sit there and I can watch him, right, and be depressed, but he's not there to be watched, he's there to be listened to. And to be able to listen and see what he' going through, you realize how much of a difference it is, and it makes me appreciate it even more. Like, he still gives a hell of a broadcast for someone who's like 80 and falling apart. Like for an 80-year-old his mind is really good - and I've seen so much of that - and he doesn't - he should put more of the stuff he says off the air on the air. Cause now he's got too much of an image of like "Nice Guy" you know like, 'Go Crazy', I don't know. I can't explain it. It's amazing just to watch that shit happen though. Like, I have so much more respect for broadcasting. Like, I want to be a broadcaster so bad I think. Like, some form of it. It's cool as hell, dude. It's a great life. (Starts to laugh at the TV.)

John: Pedro and Clemens are going tonight.

Ray: This year, dude, I don't care about any of my teams. I want to see St. Louis and B-town do good, but I'm so more pumped for teams like watching like Montreal, Florida. Like Cliff Floyd is off to a great start dude. And Sexson and shit. Like watching people like that and teams like that is so much more fun for me now. And that's what I've noticed broadcasters do. Like Mike Shannon. He fucking loves like talking to the guys on the other team. He doesn't care if the Cards win or lose. Like you want them not to be pathetic, but if they're .500 who cares? And it's so much fun to witness that 'cause I'm like that. And it makes baseball so much more fun. A lot of fans get like that, though, you know? Your dad's like that. Like he wants to see Boston do well. Like, he still follows them but he doesn't care really. That's how we care about St. Louis now. Like we want them to fucking win the World Series, but whatever. It's funny how we notice the weaknesses in our teams so much more now. That's the difference, is we are more pessimistic about our weaknesses than we are optimistic about our strengths.

John: Yeah.

Ray: Like we're fans that are actually, 'Look we suck in this area.'

John: Yeah

Ray: The Cards have so many weaknesses it's pathetic. And Houston looks so good. Man, I wish I was a Houston fan. Our only bright spot is gonna be - our only fucking bright spot is on our pitching staff - we're gonna have an OK pitching staff. Morris is gonna have a great year. But like, Kile is gonna go 14-14. And he's gonna have games where - you know, he's gonna be good, whatever. But he's not gonna be a fucking 20-wins Kile, you know? He's not gonna be an ace. And Ankiel, I think, the jury's still out. I can't really tell. I mean I obviously want to see him succeed, but I think he has just as good a chance to succeed as he does of failing. Or failing to succeed.

John: Yeah, I mean, he may just go .500

Ray: Yeah, exactly.

John: A 4.67 ERA.

Ray: Yeah. And he'll have like 100—he'll have almost 200 K's.

John: Yeah.

Ray: Like. The thing is: Ankiel—people put too much pressure on him because he is going to be a dominant pitcher. But he's only going to be a dominating pitcher for six innings. Like, he's not going to be as fucking good as Randy Johnson. Cause Randy Johnson can pitch a complete game after a complete game after a complete game. And people just need to realize that about Ankiel. When he's pitching, he's fucking awesome and you know that he's only going to give you six innings. Because he throws way too many pitches, you know? So he's always going to be one of those guys who wins like 15, but he never — and he might have one huge year, but he'll never have, like, all these 20 win seasons. But he's going to be a guy that you fucking want on your team, you know? He's gooing to be like Glavine, you know? Or Smoltz, you know? Like, he's not Maddux though. Morris is fucking awesome. And he's pitching on Monday. I cannot - I'm so pumped up for Morris' days, cause he pitched so good the other day: seven innings pitched, one run. And he is dominating dude. It is fun to watch him pitch. His sinker just - they didn't hit anything out of the - in the air, you know?

(Ray and John are both looking at the TV.)

Ray: They have a slide back there? (Laughs.) It's like a County fair. That's what they're going for is like the county fair. And it works. In Milwaukee.

John: They had a slide in County Stadium.

Ray: Did they?

John: Yeah, in County Stadium. It was, ah, smaller.

Ray: You know how FOX has that 'Beyond the Glory?' You know what I'm talking about? Fox Sports?

John: Yeah.

Ray: You know who this week’s is?

John: (Thinking about it) Oh, yeah.

Ray: You know how Deion was there? You know who this week’s is?

John: Yeah.

Ray: Buckner. I want to watch that, dude. Because Buckner - everyone remembers him for the Boston thing. And that is possibly what they're gonna (laughing) harp on a lot. Butthe funny thing about Buckner is that he is playing left field.

John: Yeah.
Ray: And everyone's like, ‘Al Downing what an idiot!’ But we don't realize that one of the most infamous idiots ever takes part in that, too.

John: Were you with me for that 7:15 / quarter-after-seven thing?

Ray: Yeah.

John: That was during the Braves game?

Ray: Yeah.

John: When were we watching a Braves game?

Ray: (Laughs) It was last week.

John: Hm.

Ray: It was last Sunday, I think. When we smoked. He said ‘I always refer to it as quarter after seven; I never refer to it as 7:15.’ Bill Buckner. It's him, you know? He’s the one fucking tryin' to catch that ball.

John: Good shit, man.

Ray: (Laughs) Bill Buckner has such a great story to tell. And too bad they're going to harp on the '86 thing when it's so much funnier with the 715 thing. (Laughs)

John: (Laughs)

Ray: He's like, ‘I'm the biggest idiot ever, I'm the biggest loser ever. He's seen more than anyone in the history of baseball and no on knows it. Because everyone knows it's Bill Buckner when they see the Mets game but no one realizes it about Hank Aaron.’

(The TV goes to a commercial on both channels)

John: (Gets up and bends down for the pizza box) I’m throwing this pizza away, man. You want anything?


Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Leaving on a Battleship



I dreamt last night that I was shipping off with my wife on a big, black-iron, state of the art battleship. It was part of a new program by the government to wed civilian and military culture. I was extremely excited about the ship. It was enormous and we would have lots of space to ourselves. The program was a redux of the Homestead Act, where people were given land for free as long as they went and built a homestead on it. The inside of the battleship was like an Art Museum. Stark, with high ceilings and incredibly long stretches of wooden floors. There were statues, in fact.

We said our goodbyes. I remember saying goodbye to my parents. Finally I began to feel as though I were fulfilling my civic duty. We were going to man this battleship, and live in luxury in the meantime.

We got on the ship in the harbor. The way I remember it, the ship was something like a battleship/aircraft carrier hybrid. As the ship sat in harbor, filling up with people and supplies, the weather turned cold. The water began to ice over and it started to snow.

We were in harbor for a long time. Snow covered the ice. Could we break through it? Of course. This was a cutting edge battleship. It had ice-breaking abilities. In fact, we were going to Alaska.

We got out into the Pacific. What open water. It was only once we got going that the weight of my duty began to sink in on me. This was a battleship, I recalled. We could get sunk. Russia was just off to the west. I asked someone, "Could this thing sink?" "No," he said, "there's no one gonna sink this thing."

It grew eerie on the ship. I was still excited and ready to embrace my duty. But there was hardly anyone around. Just my wife and me, sitting on a sectional couch that elbowed a topiary-type sculpture. So I went looking for someone to ask what I could do. I don't remember finding anyone.

I went to sleep. I woke early the next morning. It was very cold on the battleship. I followed the source of the cold. One of the windows had been left open. The window was an anachronism on the ship, glass with wooden frames. White paint on the wood was peeling off. It was like the window of my old apartment building. A whole bathtub full of snow had come in through the window. Where were we gonna put all this snow?

I decided I had to shovel it up. I couldn't find a shovel. The snow had to be cleared. With my bare hands, I dug in.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

The Garbage Disposal



Rick and I fixed the garbage disposal. He got two rocks out and I got the other one. It appeared that one rock had stuck the garbage disposal such that it couldn't move. The power went out at one point. Rick poured some powerful chemicals into the bathroom sink. I gave him the American Spirit cigarettes. The garbage disposal does not sound quite the same. It sounds as if the blades are slower. So no more lemon slices, I'm afraid. But we should feel free to put smaller bits of food down there.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Record High Temperatures in Austin


The temperature climbed as high as 106 degrees Fahrenheit today in Austin, TX. This was a record high for a September 26 in Austin. The previous record was 9 degrees, set in 1923. The record temperatures are partially a result of Austin's position in the wake of Rita. There is "return flow" from the gulf that is swamping Austin in what I figure is more or less "old air." This continues the tease that Hurricane Rita has proven herself to be, at least in Austin, TX. I mean no flippancy to those who suffered from Rita. But 106 degrees on September 26 is unfathomably hot. It was 91% humidity at 7:24 this morning. I recorded a low temperature of 69 degrees, this morning around seven. The highest low for Austin on a September 26 is 79 degrees, in 1977.

For a chart of these records, check out the NOAA page.

The special weather statement for Austin is listed on Austin's K-EYE news wesbite, a CBS outlet.

I also want to point out that it hasn't rained but once in Austin since I moved back down here on August 27, 2005. People who went to the Austin City Limits Music Festival this last weekend said it was like the dust bowl. One guy said he couldn't sleep, for the dust in his nose wouldn't let him breathe. He was waking up at 3 in the morning to shoot dustballs out of his nose. Nasty.

Poolaski is a little like Parmesan

My wife went to Central Market in Austin, TX this weekend and bought us some Polish cheese, called poolaski. It is damn good. It is neither soft nor hard. It is not as hard as parmesan but not as soft as havarti. By taste it reminds me of parmesan. It is not really a crackers-and-cheese kind of cheese, but it would be excellent grated over pasta! It would add to the regular pasta dish because it tastes like a pasta-topping cheese but it would be different enough that the diner would say, "Is this parmesan?" And then you'd say, "No, it's poolaski. It's from Poland."

Brautigan as a Genre



As a writer, Richard Brautigan successfully created his own genre, what folks including W.P. Kinsella have called "Brautigans." A Brautigan is a vignette, somewhere between short story and a poem. He is a little kooky but not cheesy. Sometimes his writing is beautiful. He was a hippie, you could say. But he got an early start. His first novel, "A Confederate General in Big Sur," came out in 1957. It's about Brautigan living with a guy named Lee Mellon on the coast of California, living on little money but reaping experience despite. Reading it I am so envious. Can you imagine what it would be like to live on the California coast in 1957? To buy up a bunch of property back then in Big Sur?

These are the University of Texas library holdings on Richard Brautigan:

Brautigan in the UT library, a couple of which I'm about to go check out

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Austin High Temp



It was up to 105.8 degrees fahrenheit here in Austin, TX today. That was the high reading on my thermometer, though nearby temperatures were recorded at 107 or even 108. I was outside in the morning and started sweating after walking only a couple of hundred feet.

Forecast:

Monday, tomorrow (9.26.05), also will be hot. The high is predicted at 102 degrees. But a cool front comes through sometime between Monday and Tuesday. The high for Tuesday is "only" 93 degrees. In truth, that will be a relief. The same high is set for Wednesday.

Then. Thursday the high is only supposed to be 81 degrees. With a 40% chance of rain. That's what I'm looking forward to this week.

The Bowflex



Coffee at ten has to be a large part of why I’m up right now. But I’m also up because I want to be up. I imagine someone walking in here and saying, “Is it the coffee, John?” I’d say, “The coffee and a whole lot else.”

I was lying in bed and all sorts of thoughts—memories I hadn’t come across in a while—were keeping me awake. I thought about how I sold my Bowflex workout machine—probably right around this time last year—for $500 cash. It was my parents’ money really. I had bought the Bowflex on a credit card that I wasn’t funding. And I’m just so goddamned sorry that I’ve gotten this far off track and all I can think about is how my parents are seeing this situation.

Their child with promise and potential. What is he doing with his life? Not squandering it anymore than I already have. I’m just so sorry for myself and I know that’s now way to go about it but I was recalling that Bowflex transaction. With half of the cash I bought about two ounces of freeze-dried fungi. Just pathetic, just pathetic. And, of course, to whom can I confess this? Those who already know haven’t realized that they care.

I just want to get things back on track and it won’t happen all at once. How long did I slide? Two years, maybe two and a half. I haven’t lost the potential, but to hone it again is going to take: humility, discipline, dignity, focus, health. Love, lots of love.
And I want to capture my muse. I’ve banished it away, smoked it out of shape, fogged its scream, paralyzed its touch. I will find it. There was a moment or two there, as I was trying to doze off, that I could feel it creeping in on me. I long for it. Enough introspection. One can only go so deep at one attempt. Study, plenty of study—willingness to learn. I need to open myself to the accomplished word. Not to imitate, but to recognize. To know that it’s there, to know what it feels like.

Damn that Bowflex! And Dad knew it, too. He would harp me on it. He gave me my freedom but does not want to be made a fool. What does he have to be proud of me for? He would know better than I right now. I am not supposed to die before he does. Oh God, how good to be alive, to be awake and writing and healing at this point in the morning. I renounce my retirement—I. I, me, we, all of us, the constellation of myself will rally to win back this soul of mine from the pit of indifference.

That damn Bowflex. I put an ad in the paper. Sold it in an effin heartbeat. Justified it away—so easy to do! Who wants to do bench presses in his kitchen? I remember my last workout with it, high. I was completely out of my effing mind. And now that time is recuperation fodder, raw material to be shaped, a bad memory that can serve as a lesson, teach me. I hate myself for it but I move on. Sold it for half a grand, half the original price, and turned that cash around in no time, didn’t I? Loaded it into that car dealer’s SUV and met a different kind of dealer in my driveway hours later. I had iced tea in a green plastic cup that afternoon. I had smoked a cigarette and hoped that the car dealer wouldn’t smell it when he came over to take the Bowflex off of my hands.

I explained to him the stench in the hallway. My neighbors have a lot of cats, I told him. We came out of the building and around the corner—ran into the across-the-hall neighbor. I was afraid she’d think this guy was my father. “Is this one of the cat lovers?” he asked. And she sharply said, “No.” She was looking rough that morning.

Aw, hell. It’s gotta be good for something. I could use it now—though, really, it doesn’t fit well into this apartment. I had disassembled it and stored it piece by piece in the basement. Ran it in the Sunday classifieds and got like five calls that Monday morning alone. Sold it by one in the afternoon. I wanted $550. He said $450. I said, “I been getting calls all morning. I can get $550 easy.” He goes, “OK. Hmm. Will you do $500 then?” We shook on that. I felt pretty good getting what I wanted from a car salesman.

It was in almost-new condition. Not mangled or bent or scratched or tired or missing a piece. (Actually, I might still have one piece left from it, that I had forgotten about, left in an obscure drawer somewhere.) I got good workouts on that Bowflex. I will miss it though this is really the first time that I’ve thought hard about it since I sold it. Another $100 of the cash went to pay a speeding ticket I’d gotten in a central IL county near Lincoln, IL on the way back from a Hunter S. Thompson Fear & Loathing-esque trunk-full-of-drugs excursion to a friend’s cabin. We had marijuana plus paraphernalia and mushrooms in the car. After getting pulled over, we went to Wendy’s and emptied most of the remaining mushrooms onto our cheeseburgers. When I got home, I sprinkled that shake over some noodles and sauce and sat in front of the TV with a nice buzz on. Haven’t done mushrooms in a long time now. Has to be eight months at least. Good stuff.

As I was lying in bed just now, unable to sleep, I was thinking about poetry and managed to filter out some good lines. Though I forgot to write them down. And by now I’ve forgotten them all.

—7.16.2002

Deflation



Hope is the
feathery, leathery
dollar.

Floating,
dropping,
slowly on the breeze.

Down from Heaven,
to purchase the soul.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Chaser



I have devised a new darts game called "Chaser" where darters get a point when they hit a sector (what is a point area called, a block, a slice?) with the third consecutive dart that's hit that area (they do not have to hit it three straight times themself, they pick up where the previous player has left off). Say you throw three darts, your turn begins on an "open board." You decide to go for three straight 20's. You hit one, then another, so if you hit 20 again you get a point. But you miss. Your dart lands in "1." I start my turn, with three darts. I have a "leg up" on "1." I only have to hit it twice to get a point. I throw and hit "18." So, now I can still try to hit eighteen a second and third time. I have no other choice (sometimes double bulls is a point in and of itself, but not in this instance). So I hit "6" with my next shot, not a very impressive turn so far. Yet, the game is forgiving. I have a chance to shoot at the bullseye circle. If I hit a double bulls, I get one point, AND I get the darts back with an open board. If I hit the outer bulls, I don't get a point but I get the darts back with an open board.

If a player hits a sector with a third consecutive dart, the darter gets to keep shooting at that sector, with each additional consecutive hit being one point.

Let's say you have an open board. You throw at 20, and you hit it. But your next throw is a five. What do you want to do? Throw at the bulls for the chance of getting the darts back (and maybe a point, too). So you try to hit bulls but you hit 5 AGAIN. Ouch. Your turn is over and you have "put me in the saddle" on five.

I get up and throw one, two, three fives. The first hit was one point (the third consecutive dart to hit 5). The second and third throws are also one point apiece. Now I am "running" on five. It's my turn again. I hit one five, then another, both hits worth one apiece and I am still running on five. My next hit lands OUT OF BOUNDS. Ouch! Now my turn is over and YOU are running on five!

You get the idea. There are some more complications when darts go out of bounds. But the game has quirks with what it allows in certain circumstances.
It will take a lot of playing to work them out.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Palmeiro/Tejada



Do you think Tejada gave Palmeiro steroids? Yes or no? I think no, but there is a lot of circumstantial evidence built up against Tejada. Canseco floated his name. Tejada was in Oakland, where a lot of this steroid stuff came to the surface, e.g. Giambi. Also, his power numbers have increased somewhat* since his first two full or semi-full seasons. Then there was his show at the Houston All Star Game Home Run Derby. Plus, Tejada agrees that he gave Palmeiro a B-12 shot. Why do you have to give someone a B-12 shot? Why not take a vitamin or eat some fish?

However, this is why I say no. One, Palmeiro has no credibility. We know he lied to Congress, which is really stupid. But is he diabolical to the point that he would blame an innocent Tejada? The big thing I notice is that Tejaja DOES NOT GET HURT. One hallmark of the proven roid users is that they do get hurt at least once a season, and often have nagging injuries (knees, back). Look at Canseco (back), Bonds (elbow and knees), Caminiti (knees, back, substance abuse), Giambi (back, knees, viral infection, mystery disease). (But what about Sosa, he played most games '95-'02, though in '03 and '04 he fell off, was his back messed up?) All those guys missed time. From 99-2004, these are Tejada's games totals: 159, 160, 162, 162, 162, 162. And this year he has yet to miss a game. Plus, his head is not "huge" as are Sosa's and Bonds's. And he doesn't have that messed up neck skin like Mac and Caminiti (and Bagwell...though Bags hasn't missed many games, until now, with his arthritic shoulder...).

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

When Matter and Antimatter Come Together



How much choice did he have
when constructing the universe?


Did contractors foul up his orders?
Was he beset by floods and tornadoes?
Did he get called in for jury duty?
Did he run out money, half-way through?
Did environmental permits tone him down?


What was accident?
What was fundamental?


When his children nagged him
did he turn around to yell,
"Ordinary matter and antimatter
must be in just the right mix!"


Sunday, September 18, 2005

My Father on an Elevator With George Steinbrenner



Outside, in the slop,
horses run, glistening
with rain and sweat.

***

My father knows a guy
who has horses, a trainer,
and seats at club level.

Dad presses a button to go up,
and enters the car with three others.
Two who are bodyguards soon get off.
Now it’s just them inside, where
matter comes together with other matter.

Did Dad make bad wardrobe choices that morning?
No. Both wear sport coats, collared shirts, no ties.
Dad has on navy blue Ballys,
from his Puerto Rican honeymoon.
Got them shined at Lambert Airport,
tipped the guy a $2 bill.

But what does a Sox fan
say to The Boss in intimate quarters?

***

“I said nothing about baseball
and talked only about horses,
where he and his sister went to college—
Williams, Skidmore, etc.”
(My father a Dartmouth man himself.)
“He was very cordial.”

***

“I met a man who had
a horse running in the next race,”
he said, once home, as we played guess who.

“I asked him how his horses
were doing, but not about the failings
of his Japanese pitcher!”

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Thoughts Nearing Sleep



A lady in
aristocratic trousers


Holding four concert tickets
in front of her face

Look



No one's gonna understand your hierophany. That's the point.

Saucer Section

I’ve been watching
Star Trek: The Next Generation,
amazed at how the crew
can detach
the saucer section from the
battle-ready rest of the ship.

Imagine if we could
detach parts of our bodies
and then reconnect them
a few hours or a few days later.

I’d go without my penis,
just to see what happened.
Much work I could get done.

Monday, September 12, 2005



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hello, Ray

birthdays suck anyway

should I celebrate it, or is that copping out of a day

as in, well, i can sit on the couch and drink high life and eat cheese puffs because it's my birthday

whereas, who cares? it's your birthday so what? waste it and that's just one more day down the tubes.


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