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Sanctuary - Dorothy Parker

Posted on 2008.03.04 at 00:00
"My land is bare of chattering folk;
The clouds are low along the ridges,
And sweet's the air with curly smoke
From all my burning bridges."

Oscar Wilde

Posted on 2008.03.02 at 00:00
The more one analyses people, the more all reasons for analysis disappear. Sooner of later one comes to that dreadful universal thing called human nature. - Oscar Wilde


Posted on 2008.03.01 at 00:00
"It's possible to love a human being if you don't know them too well."
-Charles Bukowski


Posted on 2007.12.06 at 12:19
I was reading this: http://thinksimplenow.com/happiness/the-5-myths-of-positive-mental-attitude/
and two things stood out.. First I really likes the quotes below...

'In "Man’s Search for Meaning", Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl talks about finding happiness and purpose while in a Nazi concentration camp. In his book, he argues that “we cannot avoid suffering but we can choose how to cope with it, find meaning in it, and move forward with renewed purpose.“'

And also...

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space.
In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response.
In our response lies our growth and freedom.“
- Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

That space is exactly "what I am talking about". That is the grain of individual humanity.
In a way, it's the only real control we have in the world, the rest is luck and illusion.

And second I disagree with the author of the article here:

"Have you ever heard a negative person say that they aren’t negative; they’re just being ‘realistic’? This myth keeps people locked in a negative reality of their own creation. A person’s thoughts, whether positive or negative, do have an effect on their environment. If you think negatively, your mind will automatically seek out confirmation that the world is a terrible place."

I just don't agree that being realistic is a cynical state of mind. I consider it much more healthy than being optimistic and I consider cynicism to be something very different from realism.

For example: If you are going to the DMV, or any place with a long waiting time..

The realistic mindset is that you will have to wait a long time.. Preparing yourself for the wait will help you distract yourself from the boredom of waiting, it's expected and accepted, and if something makes the wait longer, you knew that might happen anyway, no big deal.

The optimistic mindset is that you will not have to wait very long and that for whatever reason, something will speed it up. If something happens to make the wait longer, you brush it off and maintain that it won't take long.

The cynical mindset is that you are suffering the wait and if something makes you wait longer, you can barely stand it. Maybe you even think that there is something to be DONE to shorten the wait.. and you become agitated at people for being too slow.

So... in the realistic mindset, you are accepting the wait, not suffering it, and if your wait is short, you are pleasantly surprised. Good deal.

In the optimistic mindset, you are denying the wait, and the effort it takes to continually deny something is taxing, most people just can't keep that up all the time, in their life they may well crash down from their optimism and have bouts where they feel really negative and disheartened until they gain the energy to pull it all back together and re-build their optimistic front... That doesn't sound healthy to me, even without a crash.

Those with a cynical mindset seem to live under the false idea that there is an alternative to waiting. They allow themselves to get upset about things they have no power over. They want to blame something or someone and become increasingly upset when waiting.

Being realistic seems like the healthiest mindset. I find being realistic to be very comforting.

"God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference."

-- The Serenity Prayer --Author debated

Hell yeah!


Posted on 2007.11.27 at 11:34
"A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking."


Posted on 2007.05.23 at 18:40
Driving down the road near the Belmont hotel in Dallas, on the way back
from the impound lot, I watched the hookers stroll. One was a bony
white girl in baggy acid washed jeans, face hidden in her long bleached hair.
She must have sisters everywhere.

It seems that the only people who wear acid washed jeans anymore are
homeless or hookers. Who would have thought something that used to be a
Generation X status symbol would now be a societal hand-me down.
I guess it isn't anything new.

One pair of hookers actually caught my eye as interesting.
There was a lady with her skin rolling out of her clothes like waves of
browned butter. All the plump curves coming off her arms and around her
knees could have been more intimate places by the looks of them.
She seemed an amorphous blob of sex.

Her co-walker was a slim woman with large white teeth and her head thrown
back. I thought her ass was fake at first. She had a small waist, but
from there sprouted two giant round cheeks, like a cherry on a stem.
She swayed it slowly, almost turning her hips out as she walked, but she
had a limp too. The kind that seems to have a story.

I drove down the road, past the hookers, past the deserted looking
cash car lots and parked to look at my map. I had been in
circles around Dallas all morning and I really wasn't interested in
passing my turns anymore.

As I was sitting there, I glanced up to see the cherry bottom hooker
laughing wildly as she flashed past in a white van.
About 5 minutes later she was walking back up the street to rejoin her
friend. As she passed in front of my car she called out to the smiling
construction men across the street to "Take a picture! It'll last longer!".
I guess they get hand-me down come-backs too.

Urban Retreat

Posted on 2007.04.29 at 22:13
Drawn between the lines of a construction zone and the train tracks is my
neighborhood park.

There are grills and benches, big shade trees, new playground equipment
And it has brightly colored water sprinklers on soft padded ground..

Water springs and splashes out from a myriad of contraptions.. buckets
spin and pour.. jets shoot up to the sky... water spins down from
above... Circus rings run through the center, spraying water into a

There is a near panic in the air as wild kids dart past each other in
euphoric near collisions, throwing cups of water in each other's faces
then disappearing back into the crowd of bodies.
Alliances are won and lost as the war for water receptacles wages on.

A fat girl hovers too long over the water jets with her eyes rolling
back into her head and no parent noticing.

Toddlers barely escape death as rowdy teenage boys throw off their shirts
and drag teenage girls into the water...
One girl tries frantically to cover her hair with a grocery sack as four
boys toss her into the streams.

Two cherubs of about four years old stand obliviously naked in the middle
of everything. One pisses down her leg. I pretend not to notice.

The day wears on... and a birthday party with it's jump house and pinatas
is coming to an end... apartment gypsies drive their cars onto the
park lawn to pack up the chairs and tables. A camping tent comes down too.
The ground is covered in soda cans, paper plates, and candy wrappers.

A mother stands her baby up on the picnic table where I am sitting and
shamelessly lets her diaper flop with a wet thud onto the concrete behind
me. Then walks off, leaving it there.

Perhaps they don't know any better, or perhaps they don't care.

Maybe this is why the home owners associations voted at the city council meetings
to tear down my apartments and rezone
for upscale shops that charge six dollars for wheat juice

The sky is getting dark... and the park is getting quiet.
A dad is napping on the slide.

I sit and watch a sparrow eating a cookie and ponder the dietary and
evolutionary changes of sparrows. I notice a woman approach me with two
tiny dogs, I move my foot aside so they can pass, she turns and jokingly
asks if I am avoiding her. I half laugh and look at her.. she stares
back.. Waiting for something more.. I ask her gently if I should know her
as I search her face... it says I should, but she says no and continues
on her way.. Maybe she knew me from work, I saw a thousand faces a week there.
I look back for the sparrow, but he moved on too.

standing on shoulders

Posted on 2007.04.16 at 05:38
The less studied a person is,
the easier it is for them to assume they are unique.
Stealing ideas is how we evolved.
Everything has been thought of.
There is nothing wrong with that..
and nothing is wrong with mental masturbation either.
the world is full of voyeurs.

Happy Chocolate Bunny Day!

Posted on 2007.04.08 at 21:04
So we all know how the story goes..
God sent his only begotten pet, Bunny, to teach us something or other.
Only something went horribly wrong..
See, Bunny had free will.. and
Read more...Collapse )

Words are pictures, not just facts.

Posted on 2007.04.01 at 22:11
Poetry is untranslatable.
The best translations give you a blurred glance at the intent of the poet, with none of the richness of the original. The best translations are like taking a picture of sculpture, they can't express it.


Posted on 2007.03.31 at 04:52
"I was sentenced to death at birth."
"The most dangerous thing to want is more."

just wondering

Posted on 2007.03.15 at 19:38
If there were a God, could he stop time?
What does it mean if he couldn't?
What if he could?
Is erasing our awareness and the evidence of the passage of time stopping time?

There was a scene in a movie where the father and mother were separated. The father had an unstable work history, but seemed decent. The mother said that the son shouldn't have visitations with him until his life were more stable.

This sort of stance makes me want to smack people. There are plenty of people who think that if you don't have a very predictable life with bed times, bowel movements, and meals like clockwork it will prevent you from developing in a healthy manner.

I really wish we could shed this fantasy. Leave it to Beaver has been over for more than 40 years. The Brady Bunch over for 30 years. The world will not end, nor will your children become serial killers if they are not kept on a strict routine.

I really don't believe that children gain stability and a feeling of security from regimens.
Life is just not like that. Can you imagine the distress of unexpected changes to someone brought up in strict routines? How the hell are you supposed to cope with uncertainties and changes, when you have been conditioned to exist by the clock?

I think children gain security and stability from the unwavering love and support of their families while the world changes around them. I think they should rely on things that are more secure for that sense of connectedness.. The sun rises and sets.. the stars circle around.. the wind blows.. these are much more constant than bedtimes.

I am a firm believer in sleeping when you are tired, eating when you are hungry, and everything else.

People who say that kids just won't do what's good for them, unless you make them.. they don't understand shit. Kids are people too and they learn what is best.

Often the choice is simple... force a child to listen or teach the child a lesson.
Example... Child is in the swimming pool and it is getting cold.
You tell the child to come out before they get too cold.
Child wants to stay.
You can either force child out.. and the next time .. force the child out.. and the next time.. force the child out...
Let the child get cold and come out on their own... then next time.. the child comes out before they get too cold.. etc
Being cold and wet isn't pleasant!

I much prefer this method.. and as an added bonus! When you do insist that your child does something.. THEY LISTEN.. because they know it must be important for you to command it.
They also know that when you warn them of something, you're often right! Because you let them learn it themselves.

Direct your kids.. teach them. Command them only when it's a serious matter. Show them how to navigate the expectations of society. Kids want to be good! Kids want to learn!

Obviously funny.

Posted on 2007.03.07 at 21:53
"Why does every film about Lennon have to end the same way?"

Happy VD-day

Posted on 2007.02.14 at 05:52
If I ever told you I loved you, even once, it is still true.
Happy Valentine's day my dears.

TC & SS BF4-ever

Posted on 2007.02.10 at 00:45
Would I even know you, if you passed my way.
I still see you as I did the day we met, laughing like mad at my corny jokes.
What might you look like now?
Who could you be?
Would I even know you if I looked you in the eye.
It's been 15 years, my long lost best friend, since he took you away.

Deserted Dallas

Posted on 2007.01.18 at 04:44
I didn't see another car or person the whole trip, everything was closed. I was driving to pick up my daughter after work. It was after midnight and the streets were empty. I took a side street to avoid the ice on the freeway overpasses. I really didn't feel like getting on that ride again. On my way to work a car had spun a 360 right behind me. I kept waiting to hear the crash of all the cars hitting it, but I didn't. This time it was the back streets for me.

Everything was so still. The road was patches of wet, sand, and ice. I drove slowly and had time to stare at everything I passed. I looked at all the big quiet houses next to the hospital. I looked in the windows of the dark stores. I played with the thought of being the only person left on earth. In the past, this has been a fun game. I pondered what I would do. In my dreams I love to go through old houses and open all the drawers. I find wonderful things, trinkets, coins, pictures, rings. Yet, in those dreams there are people around or people who are supposed to be around. Imagining that there was no one but me made me realize that if I were the only person on earth it wouldn't matter. I wouldn't care to look through secret drawers. I wouldn't have any reason to. Every house would be the same.

Then I wondered what would I do with my time. I thought about passing time with music, books, and movies, but they had no purpose either. Jacuzzis, soft grass, soft couches... no comfort there. Wine, good food? It wouldn't matter anymore. I realized that life without people is like having a book and no way to fill it. No story to tell, no picture to draw, no color.. nothing.

There would be nothing left to do but live or die as a book with empty pages.

A glance.

Posted on 2007.01.17 at 00:16
Outside my door there are seeds scattered on the uneven sidewalk from the smashing my daughter gave a pumpkin she won at school.
A giant icicle caused by condensation dripping from my bedroom window touches the ground. I think it could pierce flesh, if someone tried.
The bricks are colored yellow and white with the chalk my daughter used last summer.
I hear a tink tink tink sound as the wind blows the ropes and rigs of an empty flag pole across the way. That reminds me of mornings waiting for the doors of my elementary to open, and afternoons spent alone on the deserted playground.
The rain gutter that runs down the side of my building is spouting a block of ice, which I stubbed my toe on trying to kick loose.
I hear my upstairs neighbor ranting in a high pitched voice again. Is he crying? Is he on the phone? Is he crazy? I can't tell, he never shows me more than a nod.
I am caught off guard by a sneeze in close proximity. I hear it again and realize it's a stray cat prowling around my neighbor's porch in an attempt to tease his indoor cats.
Then a low groan slowly approaches. It is the DART maintenance car creeping down the tracks like a ghost train. It is followed by the steely clank of what sounds like hammers. There is one man on the back illuminated by a single yellow light who is staring into the darkness, feeling alone?


Posted on 2006.10.26 at 06:25
Fort Worth has a lot of old grain silos that are no longer in use. Most of them look like they are about to fall down. When I was a teenager my friend took me to one, but this one wasn't deserted. It was being used as a wholesale import warehouse. I almost didn't believe him as we drove up to the front. It looked deserted, but the front door had a sign on it saying imports. We went inside and there were two Asian people behind a desk stacked high with cardboard boxes and looking at us like we were crazy. He waved at them and motioned for me to go to the right. I gave an apologetic smile and turned the corner. It was dark and the whole place smelled like moldy bamboo and green brass. There were metal shelves maybe nine foot tall stuffed with crumpling boxes full of flea market fare. It was just us two in this giant maze of merchandise. I was brave enough to peak into a few boxes and find mostly broken porcelain masks and any number of trinkets mass produced overseas to be sold to silly Americans. We didn't stay very long, but this place has been in my dreams since then... this looming graveyard of things made with hands owned by people paid with pennies.

Bush/John the Revelator

Posted on 2006.09.25 at 01:44

Phrases sure are funny.

Posted on 2006.08.31 at 03:50
She had a face like cottage cheese and a disposition to match it.
All the good in her had curdled.
That's what happens when you spew acidic hatred at those who express the milk of human kindness.

As I was posting this....
“A promise is a comfort for a fool.”
I get smacked in the face by the title to my friend's post.
"It is by acts and not by ideas that people live."

Life without Tamales would be sad.

Posted on 2006.07.20 at 04:21
I unwrapped the dark green banana leaf to reveal a creamy, blond tamale. Steam encircled the tamale and carried the aroma to my face like a warm kiss. Inside the tamale was a chicken leg with tender meat, sliced red peppers, and a nutty sauce that reminded me of pumpkin seeds. I ate the tamale slowly. I rolled the soft corn masa with my tongue, feeling the texture. I let the meat melt into my taste buds. I rubbed the spices against the top of my mouth... and I thought. I thought about the tiny ears of corn with only a few kernels that the Maya crossed with grasses to create a better plant. I thought of a billion mothers with red eyes and burnt fingers putting wood on their fires to boil their water. I tasted this tamale and felt our story. This was a specific taste given from mother to daughter, to daughter.
A recipe may evolve, but it will always pay homage to mother's tastes. In our first memories, cooking smells and flavors feel like love, having our needs met consistently creates the pathways for loving relationships. Our introduction to this world is gently given first by milk, then by food scented with our mother's saliva or fed with a tiny spoon. I wish that everyone was given tamales. Every tamale represents a story, a story that we are all part of.

Brain tape and magnets

Posted on 2006.06.29 at 10:11
I feel this darkness.. inside looking out.. this fuzzy darkness creeping into my field of vision..
I'm scared because I forget. Is this growing old?
It feels like I have forgotten half of myself. I feel like an automaton. The years keep passing and all I have are scattered bits of who I was.. All I have is now and it is losing it's context. Life feels like a repetitive dream. The same idea, with slight variations.
I don't remember a thing. I remember what I used to remember...
When something outside reminds me of something crucial, it scares the shit out of me.. because without the reminder I would have lost it forever... into the void, the darkness.
How many things have slipped away.. How much of myself has slipped away.. How much has died. How dead am I? Did I live at all? But worse is realizing that it doesn't matter. It truly does not matter. This, these eyes... This is all I have to see with. These are my eyes now.
..but, who are we when we forget who we are? No one...?
My brain is a videotape and time is a magnet.

pow pow power wheels

Posted on 2006.05.30 at 03:47
"And then its possible to talk to someone without any lies. With no sarcasms, no deceptions, no exaggerations, or any of the other things people use to confuse the truth." - Powder


Posted on 2006.05.29 at 05:08
"So many pretty parts and no pretty wholes" - May

room of mirrors

Posted on 2006.05.24 at 01:20
Too often I have found myself disappointed in people.
I think they have more levels than they do.. I assume depth, then I feel jolted when I reach the bottom.
I assume they register nuances and fracture thoughts around ideas to encompass them while discussing complex topics...
They seem to understand.. they say the understand... they aren't asking questions, like I would if I didn't understand... but as you discuss it further.. it's clear they don't get any of it.
.. and by the time I come to that realization.. all I can think of is _when else_ was I talking to myself as they smiled and nodded like a wooden duck...

I know this is all my fault.. my perception that is flawed.. my search for mental intimacy and understanding.... My warped point of view... My oddness...

but it would be nice... really nice... if someone understood.

Plagiarism or no?

Posted on 2006.05.16 at 04:24
Does anyone know who gets credit for this??

"it's not you that i love
rather a likeness of you
that i keep to fill empty space
the bad it reflects
but the good it retains
and expands
and exaggerates
such that she no longer
looks like you
except in her physical state
alas you are real
and she is fake
and so when i look for her
i find you instead
whose image she has stolen
whose likeness she remains
in my heart
but not in yours
for you have changed
or rather she has too
so that now i can't decide
which is worse to love
you who sometimes
remind me of her
whose likeness she retains
or she who has
consumed me whole
though lifeless she remains"

like it I do. HMmmmMMmmm

(post script)
I found it listed on a "in your own words" section in a profile.
I sent a message so that I can ask, but I don't think I will get an answer.
Me and insolent_pool coulda sworn we had heard it before.

All plugged in...

Posted on 2006.05.15 at 05:55
If the borg are so cool..why aren't they wireless?


"Elementary particles have no individuality." - The Quark and the Jaguar

That just makes me so sad.

Turn, Turn, Turn.

Posted on 2006.05.15 at 05:09
Whatever it is.. Bob Dylan/John Lennon said it best...

Before the moon walk was a dance move..

Posted on 2006.05.07 at 04:45
I was just thinking what it must have been like to stare at the moon when man first set foot on it.
To look up and think you could make him out if you tried REAL hard. There! There! That dot there must be the shuttle!

If I ever went into space.. I would be useless... I would spend the whole time staring back at earth trying to find Waldo... or New Zealand... or something... until I lapsed into a hypno-coma.

Where is that place...

Posted on 2006.05.07 at 03:59
There is such a deadening lack diversity in nature in Dallas. Maybe I am spoiled, because I spent my childhood in California. I grew up chasing more butterflies than I could name, in a neighborhood with food growing in everyone's yard. Avocados, berries, apricots.. they all seemed so abundant. I body surfed with dolphins in the ocean.. We had whale watching and nature hiking for school field trips. There were so many different kinds of birds. Ant species had wars right under foot. It seemed so alive.

Texas has life, but it all seems to be the same. I feel like a kid at christmas if I see anything more unusual. I am still in awe over the large healthy fox I saw cross the road on my drive home from work... but there is no great unknown.. no hidden place of life... just life passing through.

Where is this world I used to be a part of? The seaweed 13 feet tall threatening to swallow you if you fell off the dock. The crabs running across the rocks and seagulls trying to snatch them or whatever you have in your hand. Pelicans big and mean. Tarantulas and scorpions a drive away in the desert. Bears threatening to steal your pick-a-nic basket BooBoo in the mountains. Bees as big as a ping pong balls that chase you! Honey suckle and jasmine like a spell in the air. Never ending nature.

All I have here are june bugs, house geckos, and toads mixed with the occasional urbanized raccoon, opossum, squirrel, or armadillo.

Even Oklahoma has more variety than this. Hawks.. Buffalo... bobcats! Vultures and long horn and deer. Coyotes yapping in the distance. People wrestle catfish up there. Why is Dallas so out of touch with the world? When did a back yard BBQ become The Great Outdoors?

Maybe I am romanticizing... or maybe I am tired of asphalt and drainage ditches... and parks with mowed lawns and more people than trees, park benches surrounded by traffic and exhaust fumes. There is no break from the city here.

But what?

Posted on 2006.05.03 at 06:41
You can't always get what you want..
what if you at least tried?
I never try.. I fail without trying...
What if I tried...
I want.. so much...

Kill me, I'm Irish!

Posted on 2006.04.30 at 07:03
At one time I felt myself sensible.
Now it seems that I'm incomprehensible.

I bide my time
speaking in tongues
till syllable becomes indivisible.

I find myself humming this tune.
It keeps me from thinking too soon.

I hunt for distraction
or some kind of traction
to keep from becoming a loon.

All my best friends are invisible
but he's my type of guy if he's fixable.

There's no telling why,
whether friend, foe, or guy,
that I find every one of them kissable.

Somewhere that cuts to the quick
there's a candle with nary a wick.

There's a wax covered floor
in a room with no door
and the flame is beginning to flick.

---For the perverts
There once was a lady from Dallas
who dreamt of a large wooden phallus.

She hoped and she prayed
that she hadn't been laid
but she woke up all splintered and calloused.


Posted on 2006.04.27 at 07:01
Mood: woebegone


Posted on 2006.04.24 at 02:27
I'm the low growl in an old dog's throat.

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