Lit blog

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

whoohoo! My vacation was wonderful, the snow sucked...hard ice but it was fasssst! The first day was socked in with fog but the next two day's where clear blue bird all the way. Hard and fast with lots of super G air.
Now, I am back to reality...work is crazy busy now that the sun is out, I had to turn my cell off at the mountain so I would stop feeling guilty. Nothing like getting work calls at 7012'. Yes, I earn my turns.
Today, I started a Mediterranean garden and worked extra hard to burn off some of that guilt. I love my job.

 

[flyguy69]

....
Hard and fast with lots of super G air.
....

We're talking about skiing, right?

Welcome home, 'Bina!

 

[annaswirls]

Weird, I clicked Sabina's name to send a pm and Flyguy's profile came up...

hmmm... curious

 

[DeepAsleep]

Weird, I clicked Sabina's name to send a pm and Flyguy's profile came up...

hmmm... curious

I blame caffeine overdoses and lack of sleep, but I now have to clean spit off my monitor because of that comment.

 

[SeattleRain]

I blame caffeine overdoses and lack of sleep, but I now have to clean spit off my monitor because of that comment.

surely you have some paper towels handy
like a good young punk

 

[flyguy69]

Weird, I clicked Sabina's name to send a pm and Flyguy's profile came up...

hmmm... curious

Well. Isn't this embarrassing.

I, umm, was just helping with her... snowboard bindings.

All done. Go ahead, Anna.

 

[DeepAsleep]

surely you have some paper towels handy
like a good young punk

Well, there's always kleenex, I suppose.

Ha, ha, ha.

~R

 

[SeattleRain]

I could see them from a distance, sitting on a park bench on the mall right next to the Smithsonian Metro escalators. Three young punks harassing tourists.

I had a choice, turn around and go to the Archives station or walk past them to get to mine. It was no choice. I was not afraid, just not in the moode to be annoyed. After all, I knew young punks were nothing but young any kind of boy but with mohawks, roughed up black leather, steel tipped boots for kicking ass. So I continue on my way, hands stuffed into the pockets of my red wool coat, self conscious of my red sweatpants with holes and pen scribbles. I had worn them to bed, and had not gotten changed, overslept and was late getting Kel to Union Station so she could get back to her campus in PA.

"Whoa ho ho, the lady in red"

One of them called. What a lame line, I thought and rolled my eyes.

"You a tourist?"

Fuck them. I walk right up to their bench, two are standing, the tall one is sitting. "Let me guess, y'all never leave your home town?"

General confusion babbling interrupted by my - yeah that is a much better option than being a tourist, just never GO anywhere.

And break my eye contact with the scrawniest of them and turn away.

"Wait wait!" one of them calls. I turn and glare. Then smile. They really are adorable.

Come here. So, are you a tourist?
No, I live here.
Yeah.

That was Thursday. Within 15 minutes, I am in the car with them, where they presently get out their billy clubs they had under their seats.

Is this the way you make a girl feel secure?

There is one under your seat too.
Sure enough there is.

Ramin cannot stop talking about the lead singer from Flipper dying. With his accent he says "Fleeper" and we cannot stop laughing, but he does not think it is funny. The guy is dead for gods sake.

At his apartment, they lecture me for getting in the car with them. Fuck I don't need a lecture, and fall asleep on the carpet while they cook some casserole thing with mushrooms they shoplifted and other crap they pan handled for. Punks. Painter, film maker, engineer.

Ramin cannot stop talking about the lead singer from Flipper dying. With his accent he says "Fleeper" and we cannot stop laughing, but he does not think it is funny. The guy is dead for gods sake.

I wake up and they lecture me for falling asleep in a stranger's apartment.

We spend the entire weekend together. Skinny Puppy, Sid and Nancy at the Biograph, they staged an abduction of me on the psycho stairs and tourists took our photo, climbed the outer balcony and snuck into motor head stayed about 10 minutes. Severed heads. Clove cigarettes alternated with joints. Smashing bottles outside the 9:30 club. Steet of Crocodiles.

Then they went, back to North Carolina. We meet about three times a year until H leaves for Germany after we spend the weekend together, finally...

Then it is more like every 4 years. One time he comes back and I am married had not told him, and he cannot fucking believe it. The next time he comes back he is married and I cannot fucking believe it. Every time they lecture me about trusting strangers.
Every time I hold on to the last hug like it is the last.

Maybe it was. 6 years have past since the last NYC trip. 39 years old and he is still a young punk. Will be the day he dies. Last time I heard from him he said things were so serious. So serious. I have no idea what he was referring to. Mostly I get postcards with Czech beer labels stuck to the back, human skull cathedrals, film clips from the cutting floor. But now it is the internet and for some reason, things are serious.

Me, I am just tired and felt like writing about my favorite punks, on the park bench outside Smithsonian Metro.

 

[DeepAsleep]

Young punk love

Picture it, sis,
it's me in jeans that don't belong
anywhere but the fuckin' garbage
a t-shirt that says
(quite appropriately, I thought at the time)
"JESUS IS A CUNT"
leaning against a brick wall
outside the fuckin' Raunch,
right?

I got cigarettes, sis,
I got my arm around a girl in black and white
striped leggings
whose hair is dyed
red as bloody ketchup
we're smoking cigarettes like they'll calm us down.

She's gayer than fruitloops
on nitrous and neither of us cares,
because we have been listening to
rock and roll all night, and we understand that.

Gimme two jock-metal kids,
calling her a goth-dyke.

Oh, honey, can you see
two cigarettes hitting the gutter
spreading embers like a bowl of spilled cherries?

Can you see us,
the goth dyke
the kid with the bad pants
beating the shit out of two kids?

One won't hit a girl,
so she knocks one of his molars out.
She wears rings that are big and
don't look like brass knuckles
(which are illegal)
and I'm sloppy in a fight
cut my hand bad on a chain link fence
but I elbowed the kid who called her
goth-dyke
in the throat, left blood on his neck
left with blood on my pants.

She was suzie homemaker
and my hand a darned sock
but she don't come around
anymore and all I got's a scar
and a stupid story.

I could see them from a distance, sitting on a park bench on the mall right next to the Smithsonian Metro escalators. Three young punks harassing tourists.

I had a choice, turn around and go to the Archives station or walk past them to get to mine. It was no choice. I was not afraid, just not in the moode to be annoyed. After all, I knew young punks were nothing but young any kind of boy but with mohawks, roughed up black leather, steel tipped boots for kicking ass. So I continue on my way, hands stuffed into the pockets of my red wool coat, self conscious of my red sweatpants with holes and pen scribbles. I had worn them to bed, and had not gotten changed, overslept and was late getting Kel to Union Station so she could get back to her campus in PA.

"Whoa ho ho, the lady in red"

One of them called. What a lame line, I thought and rolled my eyes.

"You a tourist?"

Fuck them. I walk right up to their bench, two are standing, the tall one is sitting. "Let me guess, y'all never leave your home town?"

General confusion babbling interrupted by my - yeah that is a much better option than being a tourist, just never GO anywhere.

And break my eye contact with the scrawniest of them and turn away.

"Wait wait!" one of them calls. I turn and glare. Then smile. They really are adorable.

Come here. So, are you a tourist?
No, I live here.
Yeah.

That was Thursday. Within 15 minutes, I am in the car with them, where they presently get out their billy clubs they had under their seats.

Is this the way you make a girl feel secure?

There is one under your seat too.
Sure enough there is.

At Ramin's apartment, they lecture me for getting in the car with them. Fuck I don't need a lecture, and fall asleep on the carpet while they cook some casserole thing with mushrooms they shoplifted and other crap they pan handled for. Punks.

I wake up and they lecture me for falling asleep in a stranger's apartment.

We spend the entire weekend together. Skinny Puppy, Sid and Nancy at the Biograph, they staged an abduction of me on the psycho stairs and tourists took our photo, climbed the outer balcony and snuck into motor head stayed about 10 minutes. Severed heads. Clove cigarettes alternated with joints. Smashing bottles outside the 9:30 club. Steet of Crocodiles.

Then they went, back to North Carolina. We meet about three times a year until H leaves for Germany after we spend the weekend together, finally...

Then it is more like every 4 years. One time he comes back and I am married and he cannot fucking believe it. The next time he comes back he is married and I cannot fucking believe it. Every time they lecture me about trusting strangers.

39 years old and he is still a young punk. Will be the day he dies.

Me, I am just tired and felt like writing about my favorite punks, on the park bench outside Smithsonian Metro.

 

[Senna Jawa]

poemath

I've started my new web devoted to poetry:

poemath​

It's nothing much yet, and I don't know if ever.

If (and that's a big if) I continue, and if (that's another big if) there is interest in my page on this forum, resulting in some related threads, then I'll try to participate in them. Otherwise, those who are interested, may check the poemath page from time to time for its news and blog (I'll start it soon--as soon as the need arises or sooner ) for the new or any developments on the page.

I see that this "Lit blog" here is somewhat popular. I am glad.

Regards,

Senna Jawa (Wlodzimierz Holsztynski)

 

[flyguy69]

A good friend fell apart yesterday. In front of 700 people his brain shut off and he stood there, mouthing air silently as a goldfish, until we felt what he felt.

It still hurts today.

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

the weather is changing here, the snow line is dropping lower but there is no percipitation <sigh> The snow is coming back, I just think it will be a good week before it does and it may be the last good storm of the winter. I seem to feel urgency this time of year because I know that soon the season will be over.

Silently I pray when I stand on the top of a peak that I have just spent two hours hiking to. I pray to the mountain in awe and wonder; I give my offerings in drops of sweat and howls of joy that escape my lungs as I fly through the snow...here, I have wings.
You can see us on the mountain, we are the predators tending the herds. We fly like hawks darting in and out of the air between the swallows and sparrows. We challange death and out run it.
So alive.

 

[DeepAsleep]

Noodle cups and I haven't shaved.
Forecast calls for light flurries
it's been flurries then warm
sunshine for days, now.

the weather in this state
is as manic-depressive
as the people.

~R

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

I just ate breakfast over Rene' Descartes work, my hair is an unbrushed lions mane...about the same color as well. I love how he said:
"I found myself embarrassed with so many doubts and errors that is seemed to me that effort to instruct myself had no effect other than the increasing discovery of my own ignorance."
Doubt is the essance of faith? Instead of fighting doubt he would use it to find certainty.
Cogito ergo sum

 

[wildsweetone]

A good friend fell apart yesterday. In front of 700 people his brain shut off and he stood there, mouthing air silently as a goldfish, until we felt what he felt.

It still hurts today.

*tight hugs*

 

[flyguy69]

*tight hugs*

Oh, and

 

[wildsweetone]

I've started my new web devoted to poetry:

poemath​

It's nothing much yet, and I don't know if ever.

If (and that's a big if) I continue, and if (that's another big if) there is interest in my page on this forum, resulting in some related threads, then I'll try to participate in them. Otherwise, those who are interested, may check the poemath page from time to time for its news and blog (I'll start it soon--as soon as the need arises or sooner ) for the new or any developments on the page.

I see that this "Lit blog" here is somewhat popular. I am glad.

Regards,

Senna Jawa (Wlodzimierz Holsztynski)

Nice to see you pop in.

Please feel free to hurry up and write more on your new web page!

Okay, okay, I guess I can summon up some patience from somewhere.

 

[wildsweetone]

Oh, and

Happy Valentines Day dear

 

[wildsweetone]

8 - 14/02/06

summer outside makes a mockery of the night with its twists and turns, tumblings and torments. sunlight's song of the cicada seranade stretches the day and all the while a thistle fairy, non-fragrant, floats freely among the flax stalks.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Please feel free to hurry up and write more on your new web page!

Thank you. "Whatever will be, will be" (I can't stand the pressure of making a promise, and I truly dislike it when I don't keep one). For the time being I've started a special purpose blog on

poemath​

to report there what's going on that website.

Best regards,

Senna Jawa

 

[Angeline]

Thank you. "Whatever will be, will be" (I can't stand the pressure of making a promise, and I truly dislike it when I don't keep one). For the time being I've started a special purpose blog on

poemath​

to report there what's going on that website.

Best regards,

Senna Jawa

Thanks for the link, Senna. I started reading there yesterday.

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

I'm eating my breakfast of egg's in a basket with a dog at my feet and last nights dishes churning away in the dishwasher. It is still pretty early here, most people are just starting their car's to go to work. The temperature dropped really low last night and it even snowed around the greater Seattle area. (not enough, but it is never enough snow for me)
The moon was huge and amazing last night; orange and low in the sky. I slept dreamless and dark. I had to claw my way to mornings light and my first cup of coffee is just settling in.
Valentines day huh? I guess I have never been big on just one day of the year to profess your undying devotion to a partner. If you are going to love your life, do it every day.
I have been thinking of taking down last years sunflower stalks but the birds are eating the left over seed and I kind of like skeletons in my yard. Too soon spring will be here, the orchard is already showing signs of swelling blooms. Even in the cold cold air. I see a couple snowflakes floating down, I know it won't be very much...there is just not enough precipitation to amount to anything but it does bring a smile to my face.

Winter is just not long enough, I need to move north.

 

[DeepAsleep]

Cleaning up after bachelors is taxing. I hum every task in bluenotes, "moppin' de flo', massa, lawd, lawdy, moppin' by de back do', massa, lawd, lawdy, ain't 'nuff Fabuloso to scrub 'dis place clean, lawd, lawdy..."

But I quit my job and I figure I've gotta earn my keep somehow. If being the only one who cleans daily can buy me some slack, I'll take it.

Idleness eats my brain, anyway.

The kitchen's clean, and I'm about to start on the livingroom.

....Eyeing a pile of samurai swords and comic books.

Bunch of goddam Ninja Turtles.

GRAH.

~R

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

But I quit my job
~R

It's about time.

 

[DeepAsleep]

Yeah.

I'm designing new business cards, by the way.

"Have come, will travel."

Har, har, har.

SEMEN JOKES ON BALLANTINE'S DAY. MY WIT ASTOUNDS EVEN ME.

~R
Zounds!