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January 4, 2012

I slept twelve hours

by jhon baker

and I’m still tired. Bukowski suggested that one ought to take a three day nap every now and again to recharge the batteries, being a father and husband does not allow such naps but would I ever indulge if there could be a way.

Two links – you might recognize them from yesterday but then again, you might not..

Take it to the streets

Conjectural Figments

These are both truly good issues put out by two very good publishers containing poetry by good poets and of course – myself – the first has one and arguably two poems depending on how you read them – I wrote it as one and a half so there it is. The second features me as a poet and contains three poems- both contain a lot of good writing besides mine and should be read a few times through for affect/effect.

– Just for updates sake – Yesterday my truck was broken and my diagnosis was spot on. Now it is fixed and waiting for the next coil to go.

Yesterday I wrote nothing after the blog post and today I think I am going to scribd something – my new years sort of poem.

Writing will become the object of today after I take a shower when I get home from the hospital where my MIL is receiving today’s infusion and tomorrow morning will be more of the same while the afternoon finds me in a tattoo parlor getting the design finalized for the next portion of the left arm half sleeve.

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January 3, 2012

My truck is broken

by jhon baker

Sitting in the Hospital now with my MIL getting her daily infusion of antibiotics I am reminded that I am going to give up a vice soon. Smoking. We will see how that goes as my commitment is only to the money I’ll save and the example I’ll set for my boy. Problem being that I like to smoke, enjoy it most of the time but winter makes it hard to enjoy as we do not smoke inside the house out of respect for our son and cats – they’ve opted to not smoke so why should we be damaging their lungs – we are already corrupting them mentally and emotionally – why physically as well?

I am also thinking of my Ford F150 is not running correctly – badly in fact. Pretty sure that I’ve blown another coil, maybe two and that this will cost me a few hundred dollars at least and be a complete pain in the ass for the next day or so. I’ve been thinking of getting a newer vehicle, something lower to the ground and better on the pocketbook in terms of fueling costs and the truck isn’t making it easy for me to keep it. Is it a sign? probably no, if anything it is a sign that the feelings of the truck are hurt by my indecision about replacing it – mostly on the side of drive it into the ground but I don’t like it when they start to cost money for repairs.

a link: poetry another link: more than just poetry but my poetry

go to that link – read a bit, fall in love with my poem and others – print out a few copies and hand them out to complete strangers for nothing but the joy of force feeding people the beauty that exists around them always.

Where was I? In hospital, thinking of my truck and health in general, and then poetry always comes at odd times and sometimes like an erection in church, unwelcome and possibly improper. But for this we are thankful which is what makes it the most odd – thankful that poetry in the mind is like the massive erection in church or the day you decided to not wear underwear in jr high and had to go to the blackboard after rubbing the wrong/right way, laughter ensues and the pink never leaves your cheeks again so you grow a beard in your freshman year and learn to tolerate or kill, at least maim a little.

but that never happened to me.

I saw it on television which is as good as a memory of your own.

this post has no direction.

My MIL has been stripped half naked in the infusion lab for an impromptu change of her wound dressing because her wound vac wouldn’t shut up which is because it wasn’t actually working – only pretending. Poor woman.

time to go smoke.

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January 1, 2012

a new 2012 and the year of the Dragon to boot

by jhon baker

live with abandon

love freely

hate no-one for it uses up energy that can be used for other things

try something new –

try something old –

try things –

try everything, and if you are really into it – try it twice.

make no resolutions – for they are set-ups for failure

if it needs changing – change it regardless of what time of year it is.

party wildly and in some unorthodox way.

dance.

don’t wait for them to come to you, they might not.

if you still hold out hope – don’t abandon it but accept its fruition may never come to pass.

don’t look for Atlantis, Plato made it up and says as much, create your own Atlantis.

challenge the irrational laws – challenge the rational ones too.

start a swear jar to enable you to travel somewhere exotic you’ve never been.

swear a lot.

drink, smoke, fuck wildly and with abandon but only the one you love and that loves you.

don’t be “that guy”.

remember there will only be one 2012 and be thankful that there was only one 2011.

wish to be only the person that time and experience will make of you.

support a charity, I can easily suggest NRA or HRC – they both get shit done.

ignore the bastards (except me!), most of them will never help you but hinder.

sing.

sing in crowded places as if you were alone in the shower where the acoustics make a Pavarotti out of all of us.

but just sing.

make mistakes.

remember that most people have forgotten the mistakes you’ve made and most people will forget the ones you will inevitably make this year.

so do not be concerned with them.

those who do remember all your mistakes aren’t good people to have around unless they are smart and kind enough to have pretended to forget them.

keep a journal or diary. it will be invaluable to your grandchildren or another generation – and if not at least it helped you organize your thoughts of the day and will help you to sleep better.

those who love you are Holy, keep them in your pocket at all times.

also keep spare change to feed expired meters.

time and space are one – so broken watches tell time just as well as others.

remember that.

 

for auld lang syne. – me

 

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December 31, 2011

the great idiot of us all

by jhon baker

When I was growing up I was sure of two things. 1. I was retarded and 2. that I was adopted. – eventually I learned that 1. no and 2. no.

however, there is lingering doubt remaining about both only because my nature is different and odd and my nurture is fantastically imprinted.

I was also told that I couldn’t carry a tune and was in speech therapy because I was monotone and thought to be tone deaf – both of these ended life being not true as I have become an accomplished musician and a pretty good singer.

If I was so motivated – this would be the start of my autobiography – or my memoirs as they call them.

what follows is probably terrible or terrific…

the great idiot of us all

the rain sleeps;

passed the nickel

through gates of wrath

after

observedly pounded on

windows and

doors and windows

doors and windows.

 

slept under lit porticoes

and flooded swails.

– last night I wrote this but may take it back

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