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FEBRUARY - AUGUST 2008
08.02.08 - 6:03PM PST >>
not a bounty hunter yet
summer concentrations
working to realize god's blessings
the ones that have come and those that will
being what we must be
to love and to receive
singular applications that benefit a whole
the meaning of life
with dreams that must be dreamt
even if they seem impossible
_________
i realize i haven't been ranting much for a few months. maybe i'll change that graphic soon. so much has happened and as i struggle in this world to give and receive love, i find the rants have diminished. i find myself more often offering prayers to god on my knees in the shower. say a prayer for your fellow man and woman. think a good thought for them and believe in the best. these are things i must remind myself of as i fight off despair. i ask that you might do the same, no matter your status, financial, emotional, spiritual or otherwise. if you are reading misteradiant.com, you fight for and believe in the best of humankind. even when they frustrate you. pray and/or believe, folks. mistrust and defeatist attitudes breed so many evils.
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07.13.08 - 6:12PM PST >>
the title is in the poem but you'll never guess it
sunday business phone call
for dreams of her presence and the ability to care for her as she learns in school
it is what a daddy does
sunday business phone call
with questions and answers and he's wondering if he can afford me
he knows i want to be the guy that does it
thunderstorm threats and cool air but after the wind subsides
no rain
the dog is excited by the weather and has to be outside
smelling and barking and running and i remember that
feeling the thrill of a summer thunderstorm
it made me want to jump and yell and run
ran up a mountain one night in a thunderstorm
with a friend of mine
we were eighteen
as my window gazes upon that mountain i am all about a sunday business phone call
with prayers to succeed and be able to care for her while she and her daughter go to school
for god's blessing
as others i love suffer
i pray to care for them
but i am still poor
believing in the day i have the love of my life with me in my home
as she learns and earns her degrees
the poem of the sunday business phone call and love
not in order of importance
because love rules my life
i must love to live
and what i feel i forgot was to remember that
dreaming and being exactly that
successful and in love
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07.06.08 - 5:33PM PST >>
to squeeze as many words as possible even if i repeat them
speechless
the dream from a poem from a kiss from eyes filled with expectations meeting
seeking high and low
speechless
less with each word that isn't necessarily about the dream
but from my waking life of presidential campaigns and basketball and work and beer
speechless
working for five years and as many separations
seeking stability and success
speechless
for the peace i envision and the strength to carry it through
to not hate what i do to make a dollar
to see her succeed with it
speechless
what i must do to keep her with me
+ + +
07.06.08 - 3:35PM PST >>
the dreams she has
i come here to write, so i should.
indigo had a dream last night. she was so moved by it that she texted me at 3:20 in the morning (5:20 for her). she had had a "beautiful" dream. in her text, it was "a wet dream." today she told me of the dream. i cannot tell you about it for it is too private. suffice to say that great love, compassion, fantasy, kink and tenderness were expressed by her monogamous vision of us.
at one point i stopped listening to her and a prayed. when i was done, i told her that i had been praying, and would she repeat what she just said. i told her i wanted god to hear what she was saying as i prayed. i trusted her words to god as much as my own even as she was expressing a dream where we were making love. she repeated what she was saying as i prayed without a problem and i was able to hear her loving words. we're communicating pretty well right now and if we can make it a daily thing between us for the rest of our lives, the dream she had will come true.
then, we will both be greatly blessed.
this post isn't much, but it is all i feel i can do right now. maybe more will come later, after i give the dog a bath. some things leave a man speechless, and i've mustered all the words i can to describe how i feel.
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07.04.08 - 6:55PM PST >>
i finished "untitled book for the masses #1" 11 years ago today
swinger club fantasies and six hours on the phone
venus and mars fly airplane tickets in time
moving and believing in sooner rather than later
with too much to drink
and my weight at a manageable level
praying to god for love
with time to move quickly and blessings at work
to drink less and save money
to believe in dreams come true
safety and widsom from god
love and clarity on display for her
under the fan
in the shade
my inheritance
if i am lucky enough to receieve it
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06.29.08 - 3:51PM PST >>
changes for the better and the summer heat like my whispered prayer to god
poem for the basketball forum
with opinions like assholes
resurrections of dead marines and their fathers
of faces smeared in dog shit
of tears for when you've become a man
and gripped his hand as hard as you could
and he couldn't grip harder
over pitchers of budweiser at the pizza place
because he didnt want to take you to his bar yet
he had failed in raising you
but he left you with a few things
like respect and anger
opinions are like assholes
everybody's got one and they all stink
that was an opinion
opinions stink except mine
humbled as i have been
i would not form them for the trouble they convey when you think opinion is truth
dreams of winning the lottery
and prayers offered freely
as a poem for a basketball forum
just because you have to reference your past
as recently as the last period
+ + +
she tells me she loves me. she texts me and says she misses me. she is coming to visit next month. she wants to come back to phoenix to live, to go to asu. i wish this was a poetry-filled post but it doesn't seem to be coming that way.
it is difficult to write like that now. i am still too sad. these months have been the hardest of my life. how hard i've worked to prove to the woman i love a thousand miles away that i am the man for her. that i am a safe man, a loving man, a gentle man, a strong man. a happy man.
hard to be happy when the thing that brings you most joy is so far away. i miss the caresses, the kisses, the hugs, the deep conversations looking into her eyes to see her excitement or frustration. i miss the kinky sex, the teasing, her fun outfits in patent leather and short schoolgirl skirts. i miss her terribly. she is my greatest blessing from god and that i even have a chance with her is probably a miracle. she believes in me and struggles with her love for me, remembering the ugly me that spits in rage over meaningless things.
so i have prescriptions that ease my stresses and calm me down. when i was 21 i rode through a red light at around 50 as a woman decided to turn left in front of me. it was in l.a. and in the days where there was no helmet law in california. doctors have said that anger explosions often come to a man that has had the kind of head trauma i've experienced. i can't help it and hope to be able to afford my 'scripts to keep the edge down. without insurance, they're about $270 a month. i'd rather be paying that on a car. summer in phoenix on a motorbike can definitely be a chore. bikes are meant for 60-90 degrees. twenty degrees beyond those temperatures, in any direction, and biking is much less fun.
summertime heat on the motorbike
covered in sunblock and months more to come
to pass to cooler days and enjoyable rides
to set her on the seat behind me in the evening
she wants to wear her patent leather skirt
and garters and tightly fit black pvc stockings
and ride to a club and party just a little
to get loose and fuck
she wants it hard
pressing against the wall
so she can feel it the next day inside when she walks
on my bike with her wrapped arms and legs around me in love and trust
soothing past hurts i created myself and must help us both get over
as the oven of the sky cooks my tattoos in the day
i wait for the night
and the dream of a happier time for us grows
i have hope for our future. that indigo will be in school and we are living happily ever after.
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06.07.08 - 8:29PM PST >>
a poem from nine days ago
she loves me
sweating from my eyes like the death of everything i believed in
i fight to know her and myself
to love first one then the other
the order seems to be important says the therapist to the dreamer caused by the light of the sun
i fight to prove to you that there is something you don't know but i do
and i have the balls to say it dropping to my knees
because that is what all men strive for
huge balls
even if they cannot define it
to prove something about themselves
and women
jesus and mohammad and isis and the delphi oracle
magic and law
there's the rub
can there be one without the other?
yeah yeah tao man
whoa man
the choir sings
you must be high as a morphine song by now
no way man
yes way stan
the choir sings
she loves me
uniformed and brought to justice
falling favors with the american public
but still have birth control over them
so who has the balls?
not you
you'd never kill the president
that damned figment of my deranged imagination
the curse of the q-tip and whiskey and love
and a stiff neck
and an overactive imagination
and you thought this was over
a trick i learned a few poems ago
as the train whistles in the distance he kisses her as they rumble onward
remembering when he was fifteen and a dream
to believe that seems to be the important thing
remembering
i believe in you my love my muse my reason after i've been insane
i believe in the kindness of the people of america not their government
i believe in the fire and the water
to be reborn and cleansed
i believe in forever
just once for eternity
something and everything
the choir sings
i love her
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05.26.08 - 05:20PM PST >>
for less boredom
she won't give up
presidential aspirations
swinger club masturbations
aspect once to aspect twice
saliva or olive oil
jesus christ
i've been to loss and devastation
cool amber skies that bring little solace
for soon they will be hot like fire
burning my skin and memory of what i would do for her
and like it
to still be the solid man not melting
demanding and receiving rightly not angry
with smiles and kisses and understandings of my return
that she will succeed and lay upon the angry clouds of blue grey and white in the sky of what we might be
supercede but not impede me
to do it alone and fail until you ask for help
for the love of family and belief in one another
for trust and forgiveness
to be it alone and to be understood
honesty and truth
for the love
always
+ + +
05.26.08 - 04:21PM PST >>
cool day in phoenix waiting for a phone call
the housekeeper came with her kids on a memorial day monday to swim in my father's pool. i am outside writing an email to a prospective employer when she walks out back with them and a girlfriend of the children. i am focused on my email and realize after the kids get in the pool that the pool man was by earlier and told me nobody should be swimming in the pool because he had turned the cleaner on, which had been jammed and needed to be run now. i can tell by the clarity of the pool water that he was right. but i forgot to tell the housekeeper before the kids got into the pool. when i remembered, she blamed me and threatened me with what she would do.
now the housekeeper wants me to stay away from her. i told her that meant she ought to stay away from me and any time i am at the house she ought to leave.
this is my father's home and i am his son. she is lucky to work for him and receive anything more than a paycheck. that isn't what i told her, but it makes me feel better now. i was only looking out for my father's home. had i remembered before the kids got in the pool, i could have called the number on the little invoice he leaves every time he comes to maintain the pool. i'd have put him on the phone with the housekeeper and she could have left knowing i was not lying. instead, when i showed her where the paper was and that she could call and find out herself, she called instead my father's wife, bobbie. she'd rather have her kids in my father's pool, even if nobody should be in it, rather than call the pool man to confirm i was telling the truth.
sigh.
so the housekeeper left angry at me when bobbie told her she had to leave. bobbie is with dad in san diego over his 63rd birthday. i called her when the housekeeper slammed the door behind her with her threat still in the air where i left it. it did not need to be replied to. it was a jealous thing that would die alone.
bobbie understood and knew i tried to alleviate any resentment on the part of the housekeeper, who would have none of my tries for peace and understanding, who complained that she used to bring her kids all the time before i moved in last year with my little family. it hasn't been the same since, she yelled at me. too bad my father has estranged children that return after fifteen years, i thought. it was then that she told me to stay away from her with her hand in the air to me as she walked by. i made my reply and she threatened me with what she would do.
with that hanging in the air, i called bobbie. if she has to, she can call the pool man to confirm my story. i have to believe that it is okay, because i did nothing wrong but protect my dad's stuff.
+ + +
she loves me. she texted me so. i love her, too. it is hard for us, sometimes, but i realized something great today. if she has to come to me and i am the best option for her to be in school, then i have been truly blessed. i will no longer be the reason she is not in school. even now, she cannot claim that, but the other, that i am the reason she is in school, has not come true. there is the faintest possibility that it will happen, but i do not want that to be the reason she comes to me. i also want her to love me.
to believe in each other and see us doing well. i will work for them and they will be beautiful.
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05.24.08 - 05:27PM PST >>
cool day in phoenix and a phone call
prophets have a purpose. it isn't that they tell you what god said and you must believe. it's that they speak what they receive from god and you choose to believe.
a prophet is only as good as his fans.
+ + +
the weather is 70 degrees and partly cloudy. grey and white clouds, puffy like the day after a hurricane. the air is still. it's miraculously cool for late may in phoenix. tomorrow will be 85, max. then it will be a hundred within a week, but today has been glorious, a blessing. maybe a metaphor for what is happening in my life....
decisions. i've been offered a six-week gig doing web design from home at a grand a week. it's part-time hours at full-time pay. the non-profit where i've been temping for three weeks has agreed to raise my pay by $3 an hour to try and keep me. it would equal the pay of the other gig, but with twice the hours. i don't know what to do yet. there is much more involved and there is a possibility i can stay with the non-profit in a part-time basis which would be ideal. i have no guarantee that the six-week gig will last longer nor that the gig at the non-profit will turn into a permanent job. i have a big decision to make. i will have a better idea tuesday.
on top of that, indigo has been told by her community college in austin that they won't support her getting grants or loans next semester. that means she won't be in school. she had to get ready for her weekly bartending job at a swinger's club and only had a couple of minutes but she called me to tell me. she looked to me to be there with her. i love her. she blessed me by calling.
i reminded her that my father has a scholarship for asu students. he offered to give it to her last december. it's five grand if she went to asu and would pay for two semesters. she'd have to move back here and try with me once again. i told her to consider it when she called, depressed. she said she would. i told her i would treat her right and that i love her. i told her that my goal is to see her in school, no matter what, that it is the most important thing i can do and that it is what i strive to help her with. afterward, i prayed that if she came back that i would be filled with god's holy spirit and would be a kind and gentle man for her and her lovely punk kid. i told her not to worry about it tonight, to have fun at work and it will be there for her to deal with on tuesday. she is going to fight it. if she loses her appeal, she'll have to pay fees for it, on top of not getting her money. it makes me sad. i want her to succeed and be in school. she is doing well in it and deserves to be given a chance but the college is messing with her. i don't want her to have to come back to me because of it. i want her to want to be with me because she loves me.
wish for the dream come true
for the love and the gift of it
for the wisdom and the peace to share
to be filled
to be one
i construct reasons why i can't sometimes
crying less now and hopeful
let the right thing be
let us love and succeed
rebellious covens of public sex
swimming semen in her belly
she thinks maybe she'll make me a daddy some day
where time and space become a monument to god
a magical novel
a new religion
to last forever
our blood walking talking and believing
wish for the dream come true
forgive
and never stop working
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05.18.08 - 05:31PM PST >>
hot day in phoenix waiting for a phone call
these times are challenging. i still cry daily, if only a single tear falling down my face. often in bed, saying prayers, when i wake up in the middle of the night and i need to remember to immediately take a xanax or i'm going to be awake for two hours. i miss her, her daughter, her dog, their love. i miss the laughter and the stress that reminded me that i was doing the right thing, working to care for them. it's a new thing for me. i've been single for so long that when the dynamic changed and i was asked to care for an entire family, i wilted. i did it, but my actions made them feel they were a burden. what a great lie i unintentionally fomented.
i was doing it, providing for my family, but was unable to communicate my needs to remain happy. not much more i can say about it than that. i got fat and lazy and so did she, admittedly. i often wonder what would have happened had i let more things flow off my back at the good job i had, and in general. i would likely still be there and i wonder if indigo would have stayed with me. my guess is she would still be here. when i lost the job because i asked my bosses to stand up for me about a mean-spirited client they did and pissed off the client, indigo saw trouble ahead and that made it easier to leave. i was angry and sad and broken over losing a gig that cared for us. i felt like a loser.
after five months, i have yet to find that job that pays as much as i made then and is as good of a place to go to. i was never upset having to go to work at a.w. they treated me very well. they paid me nicely, laughed at my inappropriate jokes, bought me lunches sometimes and were left of center in a general way. i was always happy when i rolled up to that job on my motorbike. there was a week when i thought my 40-hour schedule was going to become 50, but i was wrong. i had no idea how mean-spirited our main design client was. all i asked for was kindness. i was repaid with anger and loss.
and now she is gone.
regrets suck.
i love you, indigo. it is hard to be happy without you. you were my joy and i stopped telling you that you were. you felt alone. i don't blame you, i only wish you would have had more fight in you and that you believed in us enough to go on. it isn't your fault. that is me wishing i would have had more passion for what i was doing for you.
you still do believe, but from far away with what sometimes seems to be broken promises.
i have to take them in stride, proving to her that my love runs deeper than she knows, that my forgiveness is strong and true, that my joy in loving her is the greatest blessing god ever laid down upon me. the struggle to work at god's blessing is usually forgotten when you take your blesing for granted.
i love you, indigo. over and over and over and over forever. i love you. you don't want to tell me often, but i know you love me, too. may god continue to bless us and bring us together one day again, finally, forever.
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05.11.08 - 09:00PM PST >>
mother's day and the truth
mom's day infidelity accusations from thirty years ago
when i was ten
and canada was filled with teachers who wreak havoc upon my judgment of the past
how fast it changed
how i cried out to find the truth
how i made her yell to get it out
we lost each other
she said
we didn't try and it was gone
how time makes us remember things differently then they were
whatever they were
i don't know
all i have is her word
i love you mom
i needed to know why it ended
how i ended up with a crazy and violent ex-marine instead
now that i know you wish it was different
i can only forgive you
and pray the same doesn't happen to me
please pray for us
for the woman i love
her daughter and me
that we might find each other again
and not do what my mother did
please pray we find a way to bless her with my triumph
by giving her two girls to love
and the dream that it can work out
no matter how hard it was
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05.04.08 - 05:28PM PST >>
time, distance and lonliness
time that moved too quickly has taken a turn
now it cannot move fast enough
for me to get where i am supposed to be
to have her again
time is distance
and i am waiting for a thousand miles to be none
+ + +
05.04.08 - 01:50PM PST >>
more poetry for the woman i love
sunny day in the shade at the old man's hacienda in phoenix
waiting for her to call
drinking the last beer i brought and praying to god
please help us
submission and love
desire and longing
to miss her and be missed by her in return
and find peace inside for our happy reunion
to dwell in more than a home
in spirit with words not said through a kiss understood
she keeps me waiting
how hard to finally find her there for me
where she releases it all
as if i judge for my own distance
it isn't like i don't give everything inside
it's that i only let a little out
she is the same way
finding our day to live and love together
freely
safely
coming in each other's legs and arms wrapped around
the spider's cocoon
her fear and my anger born to fly
away where they meet god and weep
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05.03.08 - 07:02PM PST >>
a thought, poem and a phone call
trust the government. like they aren't a bloated dead thing surrounded by flies.
+ + +
hairpin curve of my emotional roadblock
angry words breed mistrust
loneliness and fear
judgment and loss
focusing on the pain like johnny cash sang
the liquor and the drugs
the strength to go on
to be freed of them all
a hermit and alone
make a wish and see it come true
admit your mistakes and love
be the best man you can be
even through mad rage
weeping tears later that day or tomorrow
every day the tears
where the newspaper words keep my mind off missing them
and the cup of coffee is sweet like she used to make for me
reminds me of her good morning kiss as i slept in bed knowing she would be there
to wake my dreams
and begin my day with her
i still cry in the morning
but not so sad and resigned to unhappiness as i have been
got fired from that job thank god
i am simply lonely without the kisses and touches of love
today the sun rises on a new way
one day closer to being with her
our triumph over everything
she will be with me
waking to my smile and kiss and touch
to begin with this
and end each day in loving embrace
until i begin to snore
and have to turn over with a kiss on her forehead
i love you
sweet dreams
may god bless you always
+ + +
she misses me. she works friday and saturday nights as a bartender at a swingers club in austin. she called this afternoon to tell me that last night all the bikers with their chicks rode in. she missed me and called me today to tell me so, relating the come-ons she put down and her desire for me to have been there because "they always come in thinking the chick with them is the hottest, but if you were there, it would have been me."
"must've been why the bikers were coming on to you all night."
"yep."
indigo said she wanted to call me last night. she could have but it is a huge step for her. even calling me today to tell me was a huge step. we've had a couple in the past few days. so we talked about her dancing on the pole in a short skirt and she would be high up on it with her legs spread and i'd step up and lick her pussy. she's an exhibitionist and dances on the pole nightly now, but keeps everything clothed. if i was there, different story. after i step up to lick her pussy for a moment, she'd scoot down a foot and i'd kiss her lips and pat her ass. maybe she'd have a plug in it with a tail. we have one of those. we didn't use it nearly as much as we should have.
she misses me. she wishes we were playing like we used to when we first met. some was real, some was fantasy, but both are important to us. we forgot that. we have pledged to never forget it again.
we made a promise that one day we'd ride up on my bike and play at her club. much more was said, but sometimes things are best kept to oneself. things between her and me. i love you, little girl. thank you for loving me. we will be together again one day.
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05.02.08 - 09:02PM PST >>
about my life, part 1,397
she loves me. she told me so yesterday for the first time in many weeks, almost two months. she breaks my heart when we talk on the phone and i tell her i love her and she says "okay, talk with you later" or something of the sort. but yesterday she called and we spoke for almost 80 minutes. we talked a lot about sex, about the things that turn us on that we failed to do with each other in our last few months together in phoenix. we lost our passion and it made her feel unloved. she left because she felt that way and because i was unhappy. i was. now i know what i should have done, and it helps because in any situation from here on out, i will know how to react. most importantly, i will know what not to do. don't take her for granted. don't settle. write and love.
she made it clear to me yesterday that she is waiting for me to find some peace inside and be happy with myself. it sounds so easy. my frustration lies in being unable to write all day. it is all i want to do and what i've found is when i have a job i slack off on my writing. i came home and watched tv. i posted poetry i had written months before on message boards about the phoenix suns. i was lazy physically, spiritually and emotionally.
the worst part of it all right now is i feel so sad. i cry often. usually more than once a day. i am terrified to fully lose her, and the loss of her in my life every day has reduced me to a man who once had it all, who fought to succeed but somewhere misplaced the fight within, and then she left. she tells me she is absolutely and without a doubt faithful to me and that i should not worry about that. i have steeled myself since our phone call and realized that she is mine to win back. she is waiting. she wants it. she misses me, too.
so quit crying and do it.
i was unhappy living the life of the 9-5 job, even if it was easy and working with decent men. the city of phoenix is uninspiring and we were gaining weight, growing in many ways unhappy with ourselves. it was a struggle to find places and things to do that gave us a little fire inside. we needed to work harder at loving each other. we had the best home we ever lived in to do it. it is there where we should have found that fire.
we are passionate and thrive in alternative lifestyles. she as a stripper and me as a poet doing all i can to get the freelance design gig or anything to bring in an extra few bucks a month. it was those days that we fucked all the time. we fought with each other through the stress but now it is what she says we miss. it is what we forgot to do when we had time and money. we quit fucking, i told her. with me making all the money we grew fat and lazy and lost each other. it was too easy and we lost the passion. i know i lost mine. i lost the spontaneous attitude i once had and she lost her will to try. we forgot ourselves and made each other feel lonely.
it is up to us to remember that passion. i think now she is realizing she forgot hers, too. she left and now she misses me. we could have just talked about it. we had enough money for gym memberships. we had enough money to go out every couple of weeks. we had a bedroom big enough for me to do anything i wanted to her in. ropes and red asscheeks and come written like a poem in an alien language splashed upon her as we laugh.
passion forgotten.
it must now be remembered.
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04.23.08 - 11:54AM PST >>
sad about my basketball team the phoenix suns
sad. sad because it feels like we've been kicked in the nuts again. sad because grant hill is muy importante. sad because without him and without amare playing like a champion, we won't get out of the first round.
consecutively amare fumbled a steve nash behind-the-back pass on the pick and roll five feet from the basket. that is not championship basketball. coming out and scoring zero in a period after scoring 25 in the first half is not how a champion responds to switches and changing defenses. i can't say more about amare now. maybe later.
maybe it is time for mike to take the team to the finals or it's his job. probably not. he'll coach next year, maybe all the way through.
sad because it was beautiful while it lasted and it illustrates losses in my own life, dreams that should have been but never were, goals proclaimed and never realized. this is not the suns team that wins championships. we have risen to no occasion. we have built leads and called them the day, sleeping the afternoon to wake stripped of everything we owned, naked upon a seemingly barren earth. cursed not by god, but by our own sense of self-satisfaction.
somewhere the warrior was lost and after tonight i am not prepared to say we have a warrior in any player on the suns. last year we had steve nash. we had steve the year before. and the year before that. but now is the time for amare. steve is too old.
alas, our triumphant dreams are crushed when amare laid the warrior crown down on the wooden grounds he plays upon after halftime tonight. the team was down grant hill's knowledge on the floor and wilted with mistakes by boris diaw, playing in grant's place. boris isn't replacing grant, and he's having trouble reproducing the play he had a week ago. his 9 points, 2 rebounds and 1 assist does not show a team that is tight and communicating well. am i correct in saying that steve nash had no assists in the 2nd half? and how many jumpers did amare miss and how many slam dunk passes from steve for and ones did he blow? amare isn't championship ready and without grant, it's too much. there are better teams out there who are younger and hungrier and not worn out and who are led by champions like chris paul and kobe bryant and kevin garnett. the older, slower san antonio spurs look to be like one of them. tim duncan is a champion and he's playing like it.
who is our champion this year? it isn't steve or shaq or amare. who else could it be? nobody.
7 rebounds for amare is pitiful. he ought to have 10 or 12. he could do that and shaq could still get a dozen. but no. he is not our champion. i am sad to say it because a guy like me roots for the dude with "black jesus" tattooed upon his neck but amare has not produced something as bold as that tattoo on the playing floor and if he cannot do it now, even with grant hill down, we expound our story with dances upon the definition of futility in nba folklore. we actually claim the worst story of all. never once. never once in longer than anybody. never once. milwaukee has one and the wolves aren't as old as we are. we're 40. this was our year in the desert before salvation, i thought. maybe it is still. it is all i can hope for, the miracle.
sad because for the first time since our ride began when steve hitched on, i don't think we can do it. shaq wasn't the answer. keeping kurt thomas and shawn marion was. if we had skinner we wouldn't have to be great defenders, but we'd wear you down with 24 fouls and as we do that our other player's offense will stomp your knee bones to the dirt.
steve and raja and leandro from the three. the spurs would afraid to guard amare or thomas because if they do you'll be fouled hard. take out noses and chins and teeth for a rebound. haven't you figured this out by now?
sad because that didn't happen. we danced like ugly ballerinas upon a floor with rules made for lumberjacks and hod carriers. it was strangely beautiful like twin peaks at sunrise with your first cup of coffee. the men would whistle as she walked by. she was fucking hot but they knew nothing could keep up with a girl like that. except that bully in silver and black. that guy ruined her. the fucker.
oh "if," you dirty bastard. i hate you. live for the moment. live for now. now we have the opportunity to win like westphal's team who beat the lakers three in a row to win the series after losing the first two at home. yes, i remember we play seven now. i believe. can i? must i? for how long before you cannot take any more?
the suns have our home court coming up. we have two games in phoenix. let home court feed the suns for a couple of games and with that belief, with that love for your game and in the knowledge that you understand your shortcomings and can somehow excel, be empowered by your home town, who loves you and needs you to win just this one time. ok? all the way. it's been 40 years and we need you to do it. for the beautiful poetic justice. for the lifting of a million heavy hearts. for the dream come true because it's like warhol's fifteen minutes for all of us. because there is a god who delivers everyone, even if it's only once. we have endured. rise for us and perform these miracles, these dreams come true, these blessings. please, guys. ok?
ok.
|
04.21.08 - 04:20PM PST >>
in heaven, john lennon wrote a song about me. it's about the laying low of a proud man. it's a love story.
i have soaked a thousand skies with rain with my tears for how i love you
the wind makes me think of change and i don't think i love the wind anymore
i like it sometimes
you blow like the wind and you raise the temperature and you're wet and you could have stayed
and fought in one place
and believed in me but no
in my messianic complex the great sinner is left to lose his mind
and pray he can hold on to be the man he once was
the attractive soul of thunder and light
the wreckage seems to stick longer than the water and wind
their ends leaving cities destroyed
always a still day after the storm
too much storming sometimes i just want peace
even if i don't know what to do with it when i get it
not the heartbroken kind or the destruction aftermath kind or the adrenaline death kind of stillness and peace
the everyday kind
the waking and skipping a beat in your heart when our eyes first meet in the morning kind
the absolute sweetness that is never taken for granted
and built upon with weightless treasures of joy and thanks and understanding
with god's blessing
and my own hard work
someday this will be for us
|
04.20.08 - 11:30AM PST >>
thought of the day
memories are merely anachronisms of self-induced hysteria. |
04.16.08 - 10:20PM PST >>
she died today
my sister died today, twenty-four years ago. i had run away from home a month earlier. i was 15. she was 13. i ran from our step father who had burned everything i owned for not doing something right, shoved my face in dog shit for not picking it up right, and from a mother who thought this was all right. my sister knew the morning i left that i would run. she never told.
on the day she died, my mother, my younger brother mario, sarah and a friend of theirs were all crammed on the bench seat of a 1967 chevy pickup truck driving west on interstate 90 between billings and laurel, montana. the railroad tracks ran parallel to the highway. there was often smoke across the road where the train companies would burn the weeds off their tracks and you'd roll right through like nothing happened.
not on this day.
on this day the smoke was thick and in the end, it was the largest auto pileup in montana state history and one person died. my sister. today, 24 years ago. they were coming home from a boy scout function i would have been at, waiting late to talk to anyone they could to find out where i was. i was safe but my mom didn't know. sarah never told her. she knew the whole time.
an hour earlier and the smoke would have been like any other time and they would have rolled right through. but sarah said nothing to our mom. she knew i was better off anywhere but with my step-dad. she kept my secret, knowing i ran to our grandparents in red lodge, 50 miles away. she knew i wanted to be with my dad in phoenix. she never told. keeping my secret may have cost her her life. today i thank her and i've cried. "my world would be a better place with her alive," i sobbed. maybe so. but she is dead and she died with a secret that has turned to blame i carry as if her death is my fault. maybe it is.
i love you sarah, please help me. i need you.
|
04.15.08 - 9:40PM PST >>
trip to the grocery store
i'm sad. i'm on a quest to find happiness. some people want to make it harder on me. mostly, they don't understand. i don't wish to go into details, but i want to somehow simply state that there is a lot of pain with which i often walk through my day with. sometimes it hurts me so deeply and most people at places like grocery stores don't care. not the customers. not the employees. nobody. but tonight was different. i offer hope for a better day where people care and love each other without jealousy or greed or selfish desire.
it was really just one simple act, followed by the desire of somebody else to do their job not only well, but to benefit the customer.
i went to a new grocery store today. it's supposed to be less expensive and i needed to go there anyway because they are the only store that carries the dog food i want for turbodog. it's the same food indigo would buy for the poopy puppy, so that is how i knew where to find it. i used to always go to safeway because it was comfortable as i've been going to safeway for 15 years since i first hit san francisco. tonight i tried a store local to arizona, bashas'. they are also the only store that carries my mad dog wine that i use in my buttmuch gargle juice mix. up until tonight, i only went there for the dog food or the cheap wine.
after going down aisle by aisle, familiarizing myself with the store, i was at the deli. it was after seven at night and they looked like they might be closed. i asked the man behind the counter and he said no, hold on. i smiled and said "sure thing." an hispanic man about my age came out and asked if he could help me. i said sure, i'm looking for turkey, what have you got? it was a little heard to hear him so i politely asked him to repeat himself a time or two. he helped me decide not to use the brand that uses filler in the meat. i always smiled and when he mentioned what flavor i would like, honey glazed, i said i'd like a half-pound, please. as i often do, i ask waiters, bartenders, cashiers, and the like how their day or night has been. sometimes they reply knowing i am sincere in my question but most often it's just the same old "fine" or some such clichéd remark. not tonight. when i asked that of the man behind the deli counter, he replied "okay," but his attitude changed. he seemed to know i wasn't just starting polite chatter. when he asked how i liked my turkey sliced, i said, "medium, i imagine. but what's medium to me and you might be different. we'll work to get it right, but don't throw any of it away, i'll take home every slice." he got it perfect on the first try and wouldn't let me give it back to him, so i ate it. it was yummy. then the cheese. he gave me the prices of the muenster and i chose the least expensive, which was still boar's head brand so i wasn't getting junk. again, he gave me a slice even though he knew the way i wanted it cut. as he tagged the cheese he thanked me for being real. he said that most people are fake and he wanted me to know that i was real and he truly appreciated it. i stuck my hand out and asked his name. rico. i told him mine and said "god bless, man. seriously. god bless you." i finished shaking his hand and smiled as i walked away, saying a little prayer for him. it must be tough dealing with people all day that could give a shit less about you, that only see you as the medium between the food behind the glass and their own kitchen. i'm sure he deals with impatient and rude people all day and i felt for him. may god bring a great measure of peace and happiness to his life. i felt he is in need of it.
i had almost everything i was looking for and went through the aisles once again because i couldn't find tartar sauce. i finally decided to go to a registers and ask someone. as i got in line, the manager called me over and said she would help me at an open register. i remembered her from the time i first bought my dog food there. i buy pedigree brand and she congratulated me on it because they donate to help lonely animals get adopted. we exchanged stories of how we've adopted dogs. she has one eye that must surely be blind and thick glasses. she led me to the tartar sauce and started right off on what was the best deal. i agreed and rolled my stroller after her to the register. when she noticed i had two gallons of milk, she had her bagger go back and get four half-gallons which were only a dollar each. she asked if that was okay. of course it was. i was going to save over three bucks that way. she said some people won't let her help like that and they pay more when she offers the better deal. "well god bless them for having the money to waste," i said, laughing, "but that sure isn't me." she told me of the upcoming week-long vacation she is taking with her dogs and friends up to the lake and told me not to forget my dog food at the bottom of the cart. "how could i," i said, "it was at the top of my grocery list."
as i rolled out of the store, i felt better. i am still sad. i miss the love of my life, her daughter and the joy they brought me that they don't even know. i am lonely and afraid of being lonely forever, of losing them for good and never finding happiness, never getting published, never finding something to do during the day that pays my bills and brings me a measure of joy and fun. but for that one moment as i loaded my groceries in the car, i wept and prayed and blessed the kind people at bashas'. they gave me hope for a world that is not so self-centered, that has generous feeling for their fellow men, that cares about what they do as they strive to care about who they do it for. may god bless rico and kathy at bashas' on 16th and glendale. they surely deserve it.
|
04.14.08 - 10:08PM PST >>
the politics of power for me not you
presidential candidate liar
speaking tongues of golden rods
of privilege
of luck
with words invisible to the truth
and lonely to the dream
because liars have no friends
only people that use them right back for their own gain
what our founders would never do
knowing the tree of liberty is fed by the blood of patriots and tyrants
and death brings forth life
and dreams speak wisdom
incomprehensible sometimes
with freedom fighting a million miles high where god notices
and wonders when will we finally understand
as our forefathers seek to kill us from their graves
jesus cries
+ + +
04.14.08 - 05:01PM PST >>
alcohol and distance
showdown at the infinte corral
blinded and turned to spirit
preceive everything everywhere but for the alcohol
my liquid distance from god
my brave face without tear stains
my anger subsiding as lonliness grows
believing in our day of joy
with sunrise lovemaking and then to fall back asleep
what can i create that won't end badly?
|
04.11.08 - 10:08PM PST >>
fucking love
to fuck you right now
to bend you over and spank you
to turn you back and fuck your ass
and come inside
to kiss you deeply as i do
as you hold your legs open wide
to lay down with you and not move until my hard-on relaxes
and one of us reaches for the come rag
to open my arms and welcome your head on my chest when you return from the tub
to kiss your forehead and tell you i love you
to fall asleep smelling your damp hair
to dream and wake and tell you how i flew
to listen to you say i did too
to live with you forever and without doubt that there is more love than you've ever known
and more fucking
and more holding hands
and laughter all the time
i have your love right now inside of me
i have a wish and a prayer for tomorrow
when tomorrow finally comes
and we fuck and laugh and dream and walk together
|
04.11.08 - 9:00PM PST >>
the struggle to go on without the touch of love
it's heartbreaking, being in love but having it run from you. she tells me she loves me sometimes. three times in the past three months. the first time, she repeated it over and over and over real fast like a little explosion of the pain to keep it in. she was caught off guard by her revelation, i'm sure. it was the second conversation we'd had that lasted more then five minutes. she loves me, but works at ignoring it so she can go on with her life. i wish i was as strong. tonight i cried, sobbing as my rescue dog leaned into me and reached up to lick the tears from my chin. "i love her," i told him, "but she thought i didn't."
she was sure i was angry with her, that she and her child were a burden. i was unhappy, but that's only because i don't know how to work a regular job and still write. i was frustrated that i was creating nothing. frustrated that we were gaining weight. frustrated that for all my hard work, i had little to show for it. we had a stripper pole in the living room that she danced for me once with. i had a motorcycle that was in decent running shape. i paid the bills and we had enough to take care of everything. but we didn't do much. i laid on the couch and watched tv, falling asleep by ten every night as she sat on my computer and tried to create something she could profit from. i paid for everything she tried to do. i paid for dresses and gas and lunches so she could be a professional ballroom dance instructor. when she graduated, there were no clients. she tried for weeks and decided after a time that it wasn't worth it, that it cost more money to be there than to not go any more. then i paid for her to go to bar school. she didn't get a bartending job. it didn't seem that she wanted one. i paid a few loan payments so we could defer her school loans so she could go back to school. it was about to happen. then she left. one night i came home and she was gone. i was away for 80 minutes and i haven't seen her since.
she loves me but she was sure i didn't love her. she says she just wants me to be happy, that it's the only way we can ever be together again. but i'm not happy. she was all the joy i had. i didn't show her enough, it seems. if she could only feel me when i cry out for her love, to give and receive and to share and be freed. freed from the hours wasted in labor that profits others. freed from the frustration that my impatience thrusts upon me. freed from feeling i wasn't doing enough when i was.
i would drink and get angry. now i drink and cry.
so tonight i force myself to write. it isn't anything poetic. it has little rhythm. but i must continue. i must bear my soul for the three of you who come around here every once in a while. it's nice to have an audience, but i must do it just for me. i don't have a regular job any more. i have a little client this month that i can make just enough to survive from if i don't go out more than once a week. that means i buy mad dog and drink at home alone. that means i get depressed and cry. just like today. i didn't go out except to walk my dog for 30 minutes. he had a great time when we did that. he walked up to an exceptionally prickly cactus and before i could tighten his leash he winced and jerked back. i checked his nose to be sure he didn't have any needles in it. then we went on walking and it was soon forgotten.
the metaphor doesn't escape me. i never forget. i carry the hurt with me always. listening to the music in a bar yesterday, the who played "behind blue eyes."
no one knows what its like to feel these feelings
like i do
and i blame you
no one bites back as hard on their anger
none of my pain and woe
can show through
but my dreams they aren't as empty
as my conscience seems to be
i have hours, only lonely
my love is vengeance
that's never free
|
yes, that feels like yours truly. so i'm drinking butt munch gargle juices, and i can feel the xanax and vicodin begin to take effect. now i can lay down on the sofa in front of the tv and fall asleep to a dvr recording of ghost hunters.
|
04.03.08 - 2:07PM PST >>
the end of unhappiness and tears
the end of the soulless
the end of the corporate
end of the bureaucratic time bomb death by waking every day to do it again
the end of lawsuit threats
of accusations
the dossier against one for truth against honesty and fun and the pursuit
the end of tears in the morning
staining the inside of my sunglasses
as i speed on the freeway on my motorbike
like i care about getting there on time
the end of the nightmare
of kafka-voiced mechanisms of decay
because every bureaucracy is opposed to freedom
freedom or death!
the end of working for what others think i should be
the end of dreaming that their wishes matter
the end of the sunrise cup of coffee i can't enjoy for being in a hurry
and the beginning of indirection
of the sun worship high above my roof
of desert mountains and rose bushes and synchronicity and truth
the beginning of life
the beginning of dreams come true
the beginning of love
the kind that lasts forever
and brings me immortality
bless myself
motherfucker
and live for love.
+ + +
04.03.08 - 12:05PM PST >>
the end of soulless death
i stood up for what i believed in. it's how you treat people. at this job, i was accused of sexual harassment. some hideous cow whose physical appearance was a testimony to her own self-hatred made a list of things i had said and brought them to the hr department of the company's corporate owners based in los angeles. one of the accusations was something i said outside the job, at a lunch i was invited to by her and another woman. the other woman is the editor for the website i worked for. she shared her writing with me. it was pedantic mediocrity, filled with name-dropping to prove she was college educated. whoop de doo. i hate shit like that. it was apologetic with obtuse cryouts of insecurity. it was drivel looking for a colostomy bag to be dropped in. i had to get drunk while posting outrageous things on my phoenix suns message board to read the whole thing. she corroborated the hideous cow's story of what i said at lunch. we were talking about writing. it went something like this:
insecure editor with rich parents who paid for world travels: "tell me about your book."
angry writer frustrated with having to create corporate graphics to survive: "i've found women like it a lot. after i divorced, i'd mail it to women from all over. many wrote back and said they loved it and it made them cry. i was invited to visit some of them. i flew to l.a., denver, houston. some of the women fell in love with me and i fell in love with some for a while myself. but often it turned into a blowjob and little more."
in the letter the corporate office gave me, they accused me of "bragging about my prowess as a writer" and having said "first i'd make women cry with my novel and then they'd be giving me blowjobs."
wow. what a couple of uptight bitches. the mechanical carnival fortune teller says, "i see multiple divorces in your life and a disconnection with your self-image."
this is only part of what happened at "this job" and the accusations leveled at me. the other accusations only proved that i was being listened to during private conversations and that my humor, while relatively raw, was something that was now used against me. i've always been around sexually open people. i'm not used to the uptight hypocrisy of corporate self-hatred and rage against men. at that moment, when i was given papers to sign, that had i not, would have meant my termination, i was angry. i voiced my displeasure at numerous opportunities to my co-workers and immediate boss in the following days. i did all i could to get out of the office. work at home. call in sick. i even drank at lunch.... as much as i could. my work did not suffer. not one deadline came that wasn't met. my creativity was not lessened. but my care for the job waned to blackness and it was only a matter of time before i would be gone.
the designer sitting next to me was suing the company. the ceo had been forced out over sexual harassment allegations just weeks before i was asked to resign monday. the hideous cow was sitting behind me where she felt she had the right to tell me what websites i couldn't visit during my downtime. it was corporate bureaucratic hell from a modern kafka nightmare. i'd cry in the morning as i got ready for work. i am not crying any more.
|
03.23.08 - 7:18PM PST >>
turbodog the rescue cocker
i got a dog yesterday. he's about five years old and a black and white parti cocker spaniel. i rescued him. he had already been saved from the county by the women of the cocker rescue. he was to be put to sleep just hours after he was found two weeks ago. he was a stray. they were going to kill him because he was terrified. he just cowered in his cage. that's enough to get you the death sentence in county care. he is a very loving boy and i imagine the sounds of dogs barking, crying, being shoved in cages, being hit by workers, being grabbed and led to their deaths and that he was petrified. i call him turbodog. he has little flames of black on his white front legs.
he follows me around and will fall asleep near me as i write, only to wake if i walk away. his jangling collar is his calling card. i hear him coming and when he sees me, his stubby tail wags and he looks up to me. last night he jumped up in bed with me, rolled over on his back, and fell asleep snoring. no wonder he was terrified. he just wants love and a loving animal gets scared when treated poorly. i weep when i think of the hurt he has been through that would make him so afraid. he doesn't know me yet. he can tell i care but when he wakes and i'm gone, "oh no! not again!" he must think. i wonder who abandoned him. why? he is so gentle and loving and from what i can tell, smart. he knows how to "sit" when i open the bag of pup-peronis to give him a treat. poor boy. i hope he can relax soon and feel safe. i can imagine that he was kicked around by county workers who see the dogs as trouble, strays that must have something wrong with them.
turbodog has things wrong with him. he coughs and has dandruff. he has an infection in one eye. he is going to the vet tomorrow to get a once-over and antibiotics. my step-mom has offered to take him so we can get him treated and healthy and i won't miss work. i'd rather miss work. regardless, if he has heartworms, i'll get "heartguard" meds for him. they're chewy treats that he takes once a month for a year or more. better than a series of shots. as for his dandruff, i bought doggie stuff for him yesterday and took a shower with him. seeing him today, i don't think the doggie stuff is strong enough and it may have actually dried him out. so this afternoon i bought human brand stuff that's also a conditioner with vitamins. we'll take another shower later. then i'll let him run around in the back in the grass and i'll brush him.
he needs me. i will be sad to go to work tomorrow and leave him alone all day. he'll be outside where he can chase birds and lay in the shade on the cooldeck by the pool. that's what i want to do this week! he'll get some attention from my dad and his wife in the morning, and they will be home before i will, and he will be okay. next week he'll be with me in my new home two blocks away and he'll be inside alone all day. then i'll be really sad. still, this will be a nice segue and not so shocking to him. he's been through a lot recently.
this week i will send query letters to 20 more agents and hope and pray to find one that can make me money as a writer, where i can be at my desk at home with this loving dog who is right now at my feet, thankful that his struggle is over.
_________
03.23.08 - 6:39PM PST >>
a poem from nine days ago
jesus without god is a big deal. hence the crucifiction where christ (yeshua) is nailed to some wood in the shape of a cross and accused of things he did not seek to imply with his words and deeds. but there he is. dead and bleeding upon the eyes of all that saw and all that remembered and recited for us to cry over.
pipe smoking
buttmunch drinking
motorcycle riding dreamer
feeling tears of frustration
from the last day of aching
thank god for today
for it being different
love swells in my heart with prayers for miracles
the sustenance of how things must change
but still stay the same
swaying in the breeze
sadly fall the leaves of the orange tree into the pool that i may never own
like many things i water with poetry and prayer
with love and the hose on trickle
the vine grows
the flowers bloom
and another season of hurt awakens
|
03.20.08 - 8:28PM PST >>
spring
the moon brings light into my midnight window
it shines and i sleep in drugs that help me
she dreams of me and cries and wakes and says it isn't so
but it is
and her prayers for swinger club pacifier paychecks deem it
and her phone calls excited
humble prayers for her sucesss
a thousand miles away
drinking and crying over the past
to score more drugs
that i might sleep.
|
03.06.08 - 7:36PM MST >>
of television and mistakes
secret agent poet remembering
spitting rage with saliva
rabid pellets of fuck you if you don't like it
110 on the freeway on the motorbike
drunken rumblings and promises that it won't be like last time
but it was
way to start the year
yelling at a child
the lexus suv is blocked by some idiot cowboy's pickup truck
like there's a spurs sticker on it
or a lakers baseball cap on the dash
and the widescreen tv can't make me happy when i lose
time to find a life
or die trying
secret agent suicide note
clinging to the messianic destiny
simply a dream it seems all i do is pray in the shower
water falls down in baptism at sunrise through the window
40 years in the desert
the world is made of sand
spit it out
and walk all over it
|
02.29.08 - 11:58AM MST >>
a letter, a query, an hysterical link and a poem
indigo;
i've always and only wanted you. i exclaim this to god and bet the eternal life of my soul on it. but here it seems that i am at fault for everything. if that is the case, then defending myself will not make anything better and won't make you want to write again. i know what i did, good and bad. so do you. i know my motives and i know my pain.
i believe i deserved better than to be left when you were a week away from going back to school. that is all i wanted for you. it was what i was struggling to provide for you. not dance. not bartending. not dirty girl. school. it would have been enough to bring me a lot of peace. my dream was to work so you could realize your dreams. it was my sacrifice and it was sometimes a struggle. you must know that i am not suddenly closer to my dreams without you. my dreams are gone without you.
you and the punk kid were not a "distraction" to my finding peace. you were the ones that usually brought me peace. the times you didn't, that was not your fault. it was usually mine and i've discovered those moments were triggered by my past hurts, not because of you. i have since read things that show me why i reacted the way i did. maybe some day you will find these out for yourself and take some of this blame from my shoulders, realizing your own responsibility. i'm also taking much more seriously those things from my past and heal them. i have phone calls to make and prayers to speak.
i never didn't want to come home. i only wanted to be with you, always. that is why i was there, laying on the couch, falling asleep to the history channel.
now i will soldier on until something good happens for me and my writing, until i prove to you that i love you and we were meant to be together, or until i decide i cannot take any more, grab a turbodog and demand to be loved for who i am, faults and all, knowing i am a good man with a loving heart and soul who only wants a partner to recognize my struggle to express it through my art and my trust in another heart and soul who will never forget or doubt that i love her.
i love you. and pk. and the poopy puppy. and us all together. god bless you.
T
______________________________
good day ladies and gentlemen. been a while. i've been sending email query letters out to agents. sent 13 last week. one wants the first three chapters and a synospsis. i haven't written a synopsis beyond the letter below. i have to do that this weekend. for your perusal, my email query is next:
What do you get when you anthropomorphize the first five Hebrew letters of Genesis into a rock band that correctly pronounces the mystical name of God? A love story, of course. Set in 2012 in a world not too different from ours, “untitled book for the masses #1” is the tale of a troubled card-playing musician’s fate with what caused the Devil to fall in love.
Our hero is Jack Aspect, barely making an existence playing card tricks as he struggles to come to terms with his calling as a musician inside this 78,000-word manuscript. He drinks and smokes and causes trouble, frustrated with his desire to be more and haunted by a vision gained during a near-death experience. At the behest of a dream, he leaves San Francisco for the town of his birth, Phoenix. There, he hooks up with an old friend, a photographer with entertainment connections. After being struck by lightning in the desert during a photo shoot, Jack retreats to an empty room in his friend’s house for forty days, never leaving, where he believes he hears from gods and angels, Marilyn Monroe and his dead sister. In that time, his friend sends the photograph taken as the lightning struck him, along with a disc of Jack’s songs, to an agent in Los Angeles who is much more than he seems. When Jack exits the room, the agent, Ivan, is waiting to meet him and help him put a band together. Jack is soon introduced to Ivan’s daughter and a love affair begins. What happens next changes the world but is it at the cost of Jack’s sanity?
In homage to Philip K. Dick (The Man in the High Castle), Trent used the I Ching (Book of Changes) at critical moments to determine storyline actions. Asking questions about the settings and characters lead Trent to an understanding of the collective unconscious, which he delivers in the subtle memes that each character possesses and which magnify the underlying theme: That love and forgiveness, sought purposely, even if started on a path of frustration and misunderstanding, leads to peace.
Trent's style has repeatedly been described as "poetic prose," and "edgy." He loves to write for the rhythm of the words. If there is no rhythm, it's in the garbage.
Trent Reker was born on a train in the Arizona desert. He's been dead and has a cool scar across his neck to prove it. Waking miraculously from a 24-hour coma, doctors told his family he'd never be able to converse intelligibly. It's arguable they were right. Two months later he put together his first sentence, "Can I have pickles?"
Living in New Orleans when Katrina blew in, Trent walked the city four days with his little family praying, eventually hitchhiking back roads along the Mississippi. As they sobbed, he dragged them along toward inevitable rescue.
Reactor Press (San Francisco, CA) published Trent's book of shorts written in New Orleans in the Summer of 2005, "shoot forth thunder" - August, 2007
Swallow Magazine (San Francisco, CA) published "poor writer, beautiful stripper" - May, 2007
20 Dissidents (Raleigh, NC) published "beer bubble blowjobs for fun and respect," "beer bubble blowjobs for fun and disrespect," and "bebop blues in a busted stereo speaker" - March, 2007
Underground Voices (Los Angeles, CA) published "poor writer, beautiful stripper" - December, 2006
20 Dissidents (Raleigh, NC) published - "June through August 2005 in NOLA" - August 2006
Atonal Apples (Long Island, NY) published "05.13.05" - June, 2006
Border Senses (El Paso, TX) published "this kind of summer" - May, 2006
In addition to his novel and the above publishing credits, Trent has recently completed a 79,000-word book of personal essays and stories entitled "how to cry and still kick their ass."
Thank you most sincerely for your time in reading this letter, people. If you are an interested agent, I am more than happy to send you the completed manuscript of “untitled book for the masses #1.”
Best;
Trent Reker
______________________________
i fucked ann coulter in the ass, hard.
______________________________
i miss new orleans
at work today with the st. charles cam
i watched the rex parade and almost cried
i miss new orleans
what i never knew and what i forgot
what was missing and lost
what i prayed for and never had
but love laying next to me
silent
sleeping
i miss new orleans
the poetry and the drinks
the music and the energy
the hurt and the healing
old photographs and memories of us
you are wearing my blue shirt outside at the cafe table
you loved me
i miss your desire to try
when you believed
and i carried you through that last day
three days after the hurricane
i had no choice
you were crying
holding on
i miss new orleans
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