Posts tagged ‘cigarettes’

August 16, 2015

am not asleep

by jhon baker

been awake too damn long and I’m sick of it.

nothing to do with the cup of coffee I just poured myself in one of my Vincent mugs.

I suppose it isn’t that late but I am hungry and looking for my angry fix.

I haven’t been sleeping well.

and the windows have faces that I can’t comprehend.

I put on my goggles and peer out into the darkness of the backyard sitting next to my wife who is equally as perplexed as I am but today I did not forget my medications.

I still feel the world spin and note the stench of cigarettes and dying sunflowers.

better than earlier when I could scent out the unique putrefaction of several birds finding only one feather.

but the couch got moved.

generally enervated and bone pain sick of it.

half-banana moon, toothpicks on the highway, sick of it.

skin falling off and miswriting sin, a lack of croutons in soup, sick of it.

tattoos, assassinating public figures, the FBI comes and visits me at six am, sick of it.

or I am in stir, a padded room with nothing but this white computer and the insatiable need to sleep.

or I am in a wheat field with crows thinking about a .38 special.

or I am in bed, lying prone, ready to fire with a hard-on and magazine dreams.

add a new category.

eleven: forty-six pm – my eye lids are heavy and I am over tired.

goodnight.

goodnight.

goodnight.

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September 24, 2014

There is generally nothing interesting on Facebook

by jhon baker

I’ve spent the last several minutes or half hour scrolling on FB to no avail. The most interesting thing is my cup of coffee and this cigarette that I should not be smoking. I am over medicated but still crazy and dedicated. Several of my guitars need the attention of a luthier and I am out of ideas.

(What I initially wrote here is too personal for a personal public blog.)

I have no new poems to offer. Haven’t written one in about six months but I have not been idle. Or I have been idle, whiling my time away on trumpet and guitar. There is only one discipline I can concentrate on at a time. Fine Art, Music or poetry – I don’t know why I cannot intermingle them but, alas, I cannot. I feel as though I can no longer call myself “poet” as I no longer call myself a painter – these things require the action of the brush or pen (or IBM selectric III as it tends to be) and I am Hors de Combat.

I think that’s right.

In a general state of needing new shoes.

and another cigarette. I’ve quit it three times this year and am always drug back down by weakness of one moment and then the roller coaster of addiction. I can’t stand the way it smells or tastes and this time I find myself brushing my teeth several times a day just to get rid of the mouth feel. The next time may be it. I like myself better when I don’t smoke and I like that I don’t get headaches as often either.

A shout out for Leonard Cohen’s new album “Popular Problems” – he kills it.

I’ve started on the e cigarettes – I like them but for the weight that I am not used to holding in between my fingers. I don’t count this as quitting or staying quit. but yesterday I did the dishes and gathered the garbage making my son clean out the cat boxes and take the can to the curb with the help of my wife of many fine years. Last night I contemplated (while not being able to sleep, again) going down to my writing room and banging out a letter or a poem if one would present itself but I reclined on the couch with a cat that hates me and thought my way through the map of a fretboard. And right now I am waiting for a water company to come and tell me whats wrong with my renters house water system. I’ve a feeling that this is going to cost a lot.

My son tells me the best way to rid myself of writers block (which I don’t think I have) is to go to the coffee shop and people listen and watch. This is not something I would opt to do. Not that I am unwilling to look like a wanna be writer with his laptop open typing away – that part doesn’t bother me. It’s the sitting there, spending money on coffee when it is already paid for and cheaper at home. It is the people part really. I don’t like them much. Or it isn’t that I don’t like people but just like it better when they’re not around.

He says it is the noise that does it. To not sit in a quietude. But I don’t – I write to Jazz and the classical station. I go into my mental spaces and try out combinations of words until it hits. then I go.

that is my process.

And, normally, I don’t like capitals when I can avoid them.

six hundred and eleven words .

right then anyway.

March 26, 2013

so what!

by jhon baker

So, I haven’t posted in a while… So What?

I have no skin, but a basketful of protections from the sun and I am waiting for the coffee to brew at 4:43 pm. What I have in my cup is cold and coffee isn’t meant to be enjoyed cold – no matter what you or your fancy coffee iced lattes think. For coffee to be anygood cold it has to be brewed with a double batch of grounds and served over ice – even then I cannot stand it but normal coffee ice cold is no good, damn you and your alternate opinions. This is where the advantage goes to tea – I pour a hot cup of tea and drink some, forgetting about it for awhile and when I return to it it has become cold as forgotten things do – but I can drink it regardless of this as tea can be served hot or cold at the same strength.

advantage: Tea – but I enjoy coffee more and it is why I smoke now – to further enhance the coffee experience out in my garage where there is no organization but an ashtray and my motorcycle. Also a BB Gun to shoot raccoons in the ass when they get too friendly.

I just finished a Novel where one of the secondary characters suffers the same mental aberration as I and as where I can normally identify with my characters like this I found this character to be a reflection of popular symptoms and not reality – or his mental depravity was too close to home and I divorced my mental aspect from his. In the end the book wasn’t very good and failed to live up to the promise that the authors previous work had made. Now I am rereading “Dream Songs” by the one and only, John Berryman. This is never a let down no matter how many times I read them.

 

coffee, cigarettes and waiting

 

I am staring at this black piece of paper

with four poems waiting to be written;

drinking coffee but

wonting for something else entirely.

my ears are dirty with grime

and later I’ll shower.

right now I am not adjacent to godliness

but God doesn’t drink coffee

or smoke endless cigarettes turning on the next line.

 

my poetry isn’t in vogue at present

and I cannot support what is.

Bukowski imitators.

and I am going gray;

easily depressed by these rejections,

waiting for more coffee to brew

so I can kill myself

with these several cigarettes

or maybe a gun.

 

– Hoc Scripsi

June 6, 2011

?

by jhon baker

What day is it? Monday? D-Day? going soon to get my head shrunk though I’ve no illusions of grandeur.
Spent the weekend tied to my laptop and when not, watching “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. Both versions played and there was some poetry written but not much. Today I owe letters to two friends, maybe three.
I am bound to this mind for eternity – as I am tethered to this coffee and cigarette for the next ten minutes.
I’ve no love for the wicked and therefore hold no hatred –
though I’ve a hard on in the wrong week and my mustache needs a trim.

contemplate my dis-ease, contemplate why it couldn’t have been cancer.

I brush my teeth once a day – sometimes twice. I’ve stopped wearing deodorant as it causes me to itch and turn my armpits red, I need a shower and the ghosts in the windows are ever present while the noise screeches loudly like snow on a fifties television set.
I change my underwear and socks daily, but not my slacks – showering about two to three times per week keeps me clean and I have no particular scent that anyone finds offensive.
I wear shoes from the moment I awake to the moment I lay to sleep.
I drink Orange juice, water and coffee. rarely anything else –
I love guns, fine art and poetry. I love my wife and this is my advice for all – love yer wife, love yer life.

May 4, 2011

quatro de mayo

by jhon baker

excessively well medicated right now and should be falling over asleep or sleep blogging but certainly not awake.

correction to yesterdays post about flying – it was four planes in 48 hours – 47 to be more precise. knocks the hell out of a person when it is not an accustomed commute.

eyes open and hearing the doors swing, footsteps and almost out of cigarettes – they never think of the mentally aberrant when they tax the hell out of cigarettes, or they think were too crazy to make rational decisions in which case they price them out of reach.

there’s a little girl in the hall and I never know what to make of her.

I’ve smoked one brand my entire smoking career and now find myself switching to a slightly more expensive and slightly more imported brand. Nicer packaging and easier to store cartons.

This is hardly a reason to continue smoking.

a razors blade. one of the hands on my watch fell off, tumbling around behind the crystal attempting the clockwork.

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