Posts tagged ‘I’m only human after all’

December 28, 2011

see, it was like this when…

by jhon baker

There isn’t anything better to do in an infusion lab than to surf the internet or sit here and write a blog post. I have had enough of surfing as there are too many waves that crash me and cause undo pressure on my brain – there is only so much I can learn and I prefer everything I learn have to do with my areas of interest – for those I have books and experience, these being the doors of true freedom.

Today my keep of classical music fills the infusion lab – Bach, two part invention BMV 772 no. 1 in C major and soon onto another but for now this is what it is.

I could go walking in the hospital and see how many surgeons are about and engage them in conversation about poetry – philosophy – blood; the typical elements of good conversation. I could go to the cafeteria and indulge in sugary pastries and see how long it takes for me to get ill and shake uncontrollably, I could go bother the security and behave suspiciously – but all of this will only land in different areas of trouble.

For another topic and stop me if you’ve heard this one… never mind – I think you have.

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July 28, 2011

a bitch just for fun

by jhon baker

I am tired of paying companies to advertise for them.

I don’t like the fruit on my computer, or the logo, small it may be, on my trousers and shirts.

I don’t care for the oval on my truck and I removed all the badges from my iconicly designed American motorcycle –

The letter on my gym shoes bother me and I prefer my nameless boots.

I prefer what I brew at home and use non-descript to go cups when I manage to be lead out in to the wilds on Illinois.

all power tools are color coded so there is no getting around that.

even on my weponry the maker is loudly proclaimed across the barrel except the rifles which I enjoy.

are those I shoot suppose to appreciate the extra money I spent on getting the best available?

I hate that the headstock on all guitars and such have contrastingly inlaid or printed familiar names.

and am surprised that the strings are not embossed with the maker.

isn’t it the decades I’ve put into being amazing what tells all?

 

the other side of that coin is the pride that so many take in displaying these bits of advertisement to the vox popoli.

as if the difference in usability relied solely on logo and brand instead of quality invested for two dollars a week somewhere in China, India, Japan, Mexico or minimum wage in USA (which isn’t a lot different than two dollars a week in those other places).

 

Could this have been written…

 

I am tired of paying companies to advertise for them.

I don’t like the apple on my iMac or MacBook, or the logo, small it may be, on my Dockers and Arizona shirts.

I don’t care for Fords oval on my truck and I removed all the badges from my Harley Davidson FXDB –

The letter “N” on my gym shoes bother me and I prefer my non-branded Zengara boots.

I prefer the Starbucks Espresso roast I brew at home and use nondescript Vanity Solo  to go cups when I manage to be lead out in to the wilds on Illinois.

all power tools are color coded (Bosch, Makita, Milwaukee, Dewalt, Powermatic, Jet) so there is no getting around that.

even on my Ruger, Springfield Armory, Taurus handguns the maker is loudly proclaimed across the barrel except the Winchester rifles which I enjoy.

are those I shoot suppose to appreciate the extra money I spent on getting the best available?

I hate that the headstock on all guitars and such have contrastingly inlaid or printed Fender, Gibson, Alverez.

and am surprised that the strings are not embossed with D’Addario, Hannabach, or Martin.

isn’t it the decades I put into being amazing what tells all?

the other side of that coin is the pride that so many take in displaying these bits of advertisement to the vox popoli.

as if the difference in usability relied solely on logo and brand instead of quality invested for two dollars a week somewhere in China.

 

… and still made the same point?

 

and I’ll bet you thought I was going to write about a cheap sassy hooker when you read the title.

 

I write this on the birthday of Our Beloved Jackie O – I mention this only to make known what a great patriotic American I am.

 

February 18, 2011

by jhon baker

Today, everything is beautiful.

the weather is beautiful, the sky is beautiful, the hum of the IBM Selectric III is beautiful, Chopin’s Nocturnes are beautiful, my wife is beautiful, my wife is beautiful, and there is nothing else.

February 17, 2011

by jhon baker

everything looks ugly today.

December 17, 2010

everytime I’m with you, I’m fucked up…

by jhon baker

religious iconography isn’t my thing.

When my impatience with people, cats, machinery et cetera come on – I know it is time to take myself out of the mixture for awhile, all in attempt to avoid the medications, the ward, having to make the excuses – I am lucky in that my wife is somehow able to calm me and distract until she can get me to a safer place. I live not only with bi-polar spectrum disorder with psychosis but chronic pain as well, and when the pain peaks it causes all the effort of control to spin wildly and quickly down – I need my pain meds, today crying a bit while trying to nap after snow blowing the drive I could only think that I wanted to vanish into Hawaii or the mountains to live as a crazy monk.

anyway

I’ve never met the man who isn’t torn between

clean, sober, right,
shame, bottle and heartbreak.

who isn’t sliding toward the selfish decision;
who isn’t the man he wanted to be.

prescription drugs, narcotics
bad poetry, tense moments

of quietude and longing.
leaning against rail fences

sun shining on his face.

 – Hoc Scripsi

image from Magpie #45

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blurred vision
two dimensional –
beginning existence.
the child looks to it’s mother
and is forgotten by
most of the world.

this is your child,
contemplate their sacrifice
to the rivers of working men
and think not of the blood
shed during
birth
from your body
in painful throes.
Mary was saved the
embarrassment of virginity
and graphic detail
in thanks to stain glass legends
and some Pope high on
power and opium

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