Saturday, May 27, 2006

SabataRadical


its been a long time. first i need to apoligize to my blog. "im sorry for ignoring you for so long. its just that i got really busy and couldnt make time for you. then i was afraid that you were mad at me so each day it got increasingly harder to come to you. i didnt know how you would react. im sorry blog. i love you."

now that i have that out of the way we must continue...
I have a new job. Long hours, makes me tired, but i enjoy it.

The wedding is steady approaching and i like the idea of it all.

O ive got a call from a bear im going to take all of his honey. RUN AWAY!

what is the purpose of me sitting here and writing? is it for someone to know me better? is it to line by line voice unspoken thoughts without having to? is it a release of some kind that i dont know? i dont know.

maybe its about hungry hungry hippos. i just cant say right now. i do know that i am feeling a little like a man deprived of a good moment of utter craziness and spontenaity. i desire to do something amazing something different than anyone else. i want to be a nonconformist on my own terms. i want to be so nonconformist that sometimes i will just choose to nonconform to others nonconformity. i dont want to be a goth kid or anything.... i just want to make my own decisions.

a poem i found that i had written while living in guatemala:

pt. 1
Cleveland Park Jamboree
Making corn on the cob
watching the dogs bark.
i crushed it. all of it.
big ones, little ones
they are all gone.
white robes and a set
of golden sunglasses.
cant hold back
it will come just
like a gutterball
when a 6 year old is bowling.
biting my lip i yell back.
fingernails white
from clenched fists.
locust song sings
sweet with the smell
of cavendish smoke
from the old mans pipe.
relaxation covers my
lungs and circulates
through my body releasing
cold silver to run in
my veins, putting chill
bumps on the back of my neck.
the song ice ice baby is in my head.
i hate that song.

pt. 2
crushed underneath
the weight of a feather
our hero gets back up.
moans echo in the
canyons and valleys
and local shopping malls.
a tall order of flapjacks
is brought out at the
diner. paul bunyun.
didnt he have a blue ox?
retreat, run away
someone disturbed an anthill.
thats never good unless
you are into that sort of thing.
im not, but i knew a guy
who used to be.
the hot dogs are almost
done grilling and the
40's are ice cold,
life is good and malt liquor
is even better.
make sure you pour a
little out for the men
you dearly love.
nothing can hold down a
block party except for
a drive by shooting.
pray for the best. with love,
Charles.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Is it possible that we can be nonconformist together? I am really having the same kind of feeling right now and I have for the past week or so. Kind of a depressing but also happy feeling at the same time. It is the wierdest thing I have ever felt. Oh well, guess I kind of needed to get that off my chest. Have a good one Fatt. Holler at me sometime and lets go fishing or just hang out. Later bro.
Sean