somethings are ment only for friends
Current mood: awake

12:45 AM 5/31/2008


i must confess to being a rabid battlestar galactica fan.  the new series.  not that 70s crap.
in this most recent episode i have only gotten so far as to hear the character of admiral adama
ask a cylon skinjob "why?"  he further demanded ... "you make me understand why you did this"


is that not a question of the ages?  are we not all trying to make someone else understand "why we did this" ... and for some like myself are we not personnally struggling with understanding of the same simply for our own personal use.


why have i been forsaken?  why am here in this life?  why them and not me?  why me and not them?  why her and not him?  


why?  ... why.


science and spirituality have tangoed tautologies in search of answers to axioms and every generation still lifts their voices aloft with want of "why?"

the question curdles in my own gut.  rumaging around with week old whiskey sours and chicken salad.  to think i swore i'd left my confessional days behind ... to think i gave up my own self absorbtion for grand ideals of society and growth.

i found growth that means giving up ... i found identity without purpose .. i found closure in a cocoon of comfort.  i think i gave in.


i almost gave up.  i curtailed commentary for cocktails ... soiled myself for soda and sour mix.


i am so sorry.

Currently watching : Battlestar Galactica - Season Three Release date: 2008-03-18

9:55 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

have you noticed that it’s fall

funny how nostalgia works
like the sound of a kettle whistle
or newsprint rubbed off on your fingers
hundreds of handpainted ceramics
and brisk morning flea markets.

funny how nostalgia works
like the smell of breakfast
or white wine at lunch time
trumpets on a freeway median
and waking up on the floor.

funny how nostalgia works
with it's random songs
on grocery store muzak
and the smell of dusty leaves

with it's passing whiffs
of cut grass and fresh linens

it's tempermental outbursts
voiced by strangers
commenting in passing

left behind on a bus seat
in the form of the last clue
to finish a crossword

funny how nostalgia works
to bring us back to pass

9:40 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

black belt bitches

back stage
off work
mismatched
clothes
worn for
hot dogs
and budweiser
and photo moments
outside the dive
on thursday nights

some things
cannot be
relived

and somethings
cannot be
forgotten

black belt
brown strap
croc wearing bitches
never need
to 'splain

they found
what they needed
in the back of
a trunk

so what
if some people
need to go home
take a shower
change clothes
spritz
and come the
fuck on

bad girls
know best
how to show
up for the prom.

1:52 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

it’s late

clouds fly low
cross 'rion's belt
dappling moon and trees
and sky above
covering with swiftness
and vapor
a very here and now moment
like a young wine
or a first love
lost on second lips
and forgotten entirely by name
in a year and a half

a lot can happen

more wine
more love
more dappled moons

cloud sweeping beyond it all.

1:41 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

the revolution portal

the indy just did a piece on the revolution ... though not really.

tv is out ppl ... we don't need your face ... we don't even need your name ... just set a table with a lovely roast of personal opinion ... season liberally with popular points of referece ... toss a tidy salad of diced dissent ... serve hot ... or cold.  who's on time for dinner anymore?

make it microwavable if you must ... it reaches a larger audience.

and repeat on some sort of regular schedule.  who eats three meals a day anymore?

hell who eats on a daily basis?  not the people i know.

and we are the lemon custard of the blogging community are we not?

sandwiched between the preteen hyper-drama myspace bathroom foto generation ... and the zombie zeitgeist of our older siblings ... who think they got it right ... for they are either strolling babies or succumbing to stomach ulcers.  

at any rate ... the baby boom is back on this time with marriage optional ... the tvs are turned off ... but somewhere grey's anatomy is secretly recording.

our kitchens are stocked for gourmet meals ready to be made at two weeks notice, but the lettuce is rotting.  we never cook at home.

so they say those making waves are doing it cloistered before radiant screens of seclusion.  how do boxes lead people into the streets?


if we are so busy typing ... when do we have time to speak?

10:41 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

some would call it morbid

this is a response to a bulliten i could not add to yet could never left as unresponded:

marissa

i can't repost this.  lost loved ones is a subject that has hit me from very young and been hard through every step of my life.

at the same time i also could never let such a thing go unnoted.   though i [could not do so as a bulletin]

the thing of it is that names are so important to us who feel the loss of those present in our lives because they are no longer present in our lives.

but at the end of a year, a decade, a century ... the loss loses meaning on a personal level.

and while i take my own losses of people in my life more like an open wound than i would wish ... i have found that i celebrate them best by being whatever is best about myself.

it is the living who help me carry out my life and the dead who help remind me why.

blessed
:) jackie

11:35 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

sunrise

the morning starts early
with sunrise and coffee beans
traffic news and weather
daily papers and crossword puzzles

1:51 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

calling for rain
Current mood: but it’s really zach and will

a dead girl wore a rain hat of mine
before she was dead
i must have given it away since then

i think about such things
in the quiet thrum of pre-dawn
pre morning sunrise

i think about things
before the sun burns
such thoughts away

turning them into bacon
and orange juice
sweet and salty
pickled thoughts

i think of how i'll never meet people
i'll never write songs

i watch too much tv
and read to many books

i think about
the futility of umbrellas
in a downpour
and about the people who carry one
when the meteorologist calls
for showers

i can't be bothered

Currently listening : KANYE WEST - CAN’T TELL ME NOTHING (MIXTAPE) By KANYE WEST / COMMON

2:20 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

a break from the five minute poem

this was the first sunday in awhile i haven't rolled back over to sleep off a hangover.


i may never ... grow up

i may:
... pay bills
... get a job
... owe taxes
... be known by government agencies solely as a numeric
... experience several broken hearts and a handful of nervous breakdowns

i may:
... find happiness
... lose it
... purchase a second pair of tennis shoes at half price
... never wear them
... drink a bottle of wine a day
[on average]
... and at some point in time be hospitalized for a pen shoved up my nose


i may:
... witness the death of a stranger first hand
... clean up human feces
... shake hands with someone famous
... write the world's shortest great american novel
["duh" ... there. i just did]


i may:
... be arrested on suspicion of treason on the high seas
... refuse to walk the plank
... try on expensive dresses in a boutique
... then accidentally urinate on one when the sales lady tells me the bathroom isn't open to the public

who says growing up is a necessity
one just has to grow old
i think that's written somewhere,
but i can't remember where.

be better
repeat mistakes ... but with regret

give your lady flowers and a kiss on the cheek
tell your ma she's a heck of a lady

offer to carry a heavy bag for an old man with a cane
and give his dog a biscuit or something

just remind yourself that for all the shit you do that makes you feel despicable ... the smallest gesture warms hearts so much more than the largest of financial contributions or the most well written speech of motivational persuation.

because in a gesture so small ... people are reminded that they matter as individuals.  you separate them from the collective.

our flaws are what separates us from each other.  

10:39 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

five minute poem -- chaiwalla [flork]

A cross a small sea there lived a
L ittle lady, who was known by the name of Miss Sadie.
T ownfolks said she was just swell
E very child thought so as well.
R esponding in kind, she said the townfolks were fine
N ot to mention the dear children as well.
A nd on sundays she would ride
T o a house by the sea and
I nside she would rest
V oicing her feelings of bereft
E van had passed many years ago now.

11:03 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment