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Bukowski.

“For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can’t readily accept the God formula, the big answers don’t remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”

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sundown.

riding towards the light
to unfinished concrete
and soft grass.
that one cement seat
for rain and filth
we sat and wished
of riches, women, and fame.

as it set past the land
we wished of love,
understanding,
and parents that never fought.

it was always the same
frustration, hope and fear.
it was never the same
hormones, sex, and anticipation.

riding away from the
purple and orange.
hoping and dreaming.
we had sat upon the concrete
and knew that was our
haven.

to wish, to dream, to imagine.
a secret shared.
a hope confided.
a future dreamed.
I sat at home.
looked to the sky
ignored my life,

and knew.

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I want to be a Systems Analyst when I grow up…

I’m told that life is full of sacrifice. The small bit of optimism in me wonders why it must be that way. Why do we give up our dreams… why do we put the wishes of our youth away? We grow up and we do what needs to be done. We lose those dreams for staunch resolution. Compromise and negotiation. Why are we conditioned to do what’s “needed” instead of what we want?

When we are children we have all of this wonderment. Naivety. Innocence. We want to be firefighters, astronauts, doctors, and cowboys. It’s so very easy to say. As kids, we just want it to happen. We don’t think of the training involved. We don’t consider what the starting salary would be, or how the profit sharing plan works. Children just want to wear the outfit and play the part.

My easy answer to life is to let people have the careers that make them happy. We’d all be cowboys, rock stars, and famous athletes instead of construction workers, grocery store managers, and bus drivers. We’d all sleep in as late as we wanted, ate what we wanted, and went to work when we were damn good and ready. But I know this is all too simple. We need people to build our homes, stock the shelves, and drive us downtown.

I’ve always wished that I could have a career that I loved. That I could come home and say,”What a great day! I finished my book and started another painting!”

But this is life. No matter how we try to have that perfect job, sometimes you do what is needed. Sometimes you tell yourself,”I’ll start this job, and I can write my book on the weekend… and I will be noticed and published and famous.”

I for one am not going to give up on my dreams. I have always been a daydreamer. I have always been a famous actor, artist, musician, writer, speaker, and problem solver. I deserve to be one of the few that when asked what I do for a living, I can straighten my neck, toss my shoulders back, and say,”What I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid.”

J-

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Snow. In April. In Texas.

I woke up this morning to snow. Well… fluffy ice. You’d think that we as Texans would be used to the most unusual weather. 80 degree days in December. Thunderstorms in August. Snow in April. But of course we still point and take video of it as if it’s Bigfoot. It didn’t stick, and it stopped and started all day. If it had been December, we’d have a glossy sheet of white all over the lawn. Being April, it just melted as soon as it hit the patio.

Snow is great. Snow is great in Texas. It’s like the aunt that comes to visit, gives you $50, and leaves. Nice to see- a fun surprise, and then you forget it ever happened. Good ol’ Texas.

That’s about all I did today. Oh, and I’m forever working on a drawing. More to come probably.

j-

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Look at how young you look…


My mom has been cataloging all of the family photos recently. I looked through the photos that she had piled into white plastic boxes. I came to the pile of photos in the box marked “Jeremy.” Flipping through each one- none of them were the same size. A school photo here, a Polaroid of a Superman cake there. I dismissed the rest of my family’s memories to reflect on mine. My brain is such an odd duck. It remembers such random things… I didn’t remember what I did a week ago, but I remembered my first “Fisher Price Magic Show.”

I was so young once… unsure and naive. Birthdays, baby pictures of me posing in a diaper… me dressed in the most ridiculous clothes. I saw my mom when I was nothing but a drooling infant. Young and unsure. Being in charge of another human life. Having the best of hopes for her son. That she’d raise him right. That he’d be an upright citizen. All sorts of hope in her eyes. We were all young once.

I look at myself now, and I wonder what happened to me. The youth is fading out of my eyes. My hair is starting to gray. I don’t get up at 7 on Saturday morning to watch cartoons. Candy doesn’t taste like it once did. I find myself complaining about the youth of today, and how things were “better when I was a kid.” I AM becoming that thing that we all said we wouldn’t become: old.

But every so often, I walk down the toy aisle. I buy candy. I watch cartoons on Saturday morning. I search for those things that made me a kid. I seek out that inner bliss of uncertainty and naivety. Age is creeping up on all of us. I’d like to remember the days behind me as I trudge forward to meet the days ahead.

J.

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I read a book!

I bought ‘Me Talk Pretty One Day’ by David Sedaris on the advice of a Barnes and Noble employee. I never talked to this person, but their name was Robin and it was one of her Picks of the Week. I pictured Robin walking the shelves and plucking this book from the shelf and embracing it. Reading it from cover to cover during her lunch break, raising an eyebrow and giving a succinct impromptu review.

I could see the other names of employees that had chosen books… their names attached to philosophy books (Enid), photography of still life (Stanley), and a manual about grooming your poodle (Martha). All lofty goals as far as I was concerned, and I’d not be bothered by taking pictures of dead squirrels or of the correct way of tying pink bows on ears.

I’d hoped that the books would fit the person. The poodle book was selected by an older woman that worked there part time, and loved her little yippy mess to the point you would like to strangle them both. The still life book was by a guy that thought himself to be the next big thing, and that his selection was his contribution to enlighten the world. I would have liked to meet these people and ask them why they chose that particular book.
If they were anything like me, they would have closed their eyes and spun around in a circle, finger outstretched, until they got dizzy and their finger pointed to a random book. Also, were they like me, they picked the book and then not read it. “Oh, there’s a great part where this guy… he’s standing around… with a shirt and… you know… hair? It’s hilarious.”
So 6 months later I finally finished the book. If attention spans were real estate, I’d have an empty lot. Midway through reading it, I bought another David Sedaris book. ‘Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim’ was my motivation to finish the first book. ‘Me Talk Pretty One Day’ was a great read. Sedaris is always the one to get noticed doing things everyone else gets away with. His cynicism is equal to mine, with a lingered sense of compassion. Sedaris’ family is unmatched in oddity and personality. A great, easy read. It only took me 6 months.
I’m halfway through ‘Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim’, and it only took me 3 days.
J.
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This might turn into a habit.

My daily Wikipedia browsing took me to the ‘Comics’ portal. I read ‘Blankets’ a long while back, and noticed it listed among the graphic novels. I read that Craig Thompson had written it to put on paper the feeling of laying next to someone for the first time. I would agree with others in saying that he succeeded.

I thought of the first time I was in love… laying with someone. Hearing her heartbeat, feeling her chest rise and fall under my arm… contentment. I’d never even had sex with her. I put my head in her lap. She sang to me, ran her fingers through my hair, and just loved me. Then we laid there wrapped in each other’s arms. In the dark… whispering and sighing. We would lay like that a lot, and just talk about what we wanted out of life. Like Craig and Raina, we didn’t end up together. But I’ll never forget that first time we touched each other. I didn’t even know her last name, but she wanted to sing to me and run her fingers through my hair.

Of course, I’m sure it wasn’t as intimate and amazing as I’d like to remember. We were kids, and kids in love SWEAR that no one has ever loved like THEY have loved. No one understands their love, no one will ever write or sing or know the love they share. Their love is the alpha and the omega. But for the few months we were together it was the most intense- the apex of my romantic life. All I had to reference it to at that point was… well not much.

But I suppose that’s what teenage romance is all about.

j-
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wow. snow.

 
snow. i won’t discuss the snow. it’s there. it’s wet and white and cold. so very cold. i am sure there are a multitude of snow and winter blog entries that no one ever reads. so i won’t contribute to the wasted bandwidth. oh, but i sure have done just what i set out not to do. like stubbing your toe in the dark. you don’t intend on jamming your toe into the credenza, but you sure as hell do.
 
old men from other states up north will tell us texans stories that seemed to come from the worst survival movies.”oh, this is nothing. you should have seen it one year. snow up to my forehead. 20 people died in that blizzard. yup… i lost two toes from frostbite.”
 
as if we’ve never seen blackened toes and spinning tires. i’ve read the world weekly news, i know of such things.
 
by the time i came home it was all but melted… only around long enough for people to call in to work and make snowballs. but that is what we do, when given the gift of snow. especially when it is in texas. where the summer days are so hot they melt gi joes on the pavement.
 
texas is a state of constant flux. we have the sheer honor of being home to tornadoes, hurricanes, droughts, near tsunami proportion rainstorms, and the like. snow is almost never in this family of meteorological wonderment. but there we are- to the left.
 
it’s not even worth mentioning, really. it’s just snow.
 
j.
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san antonio. day three.

today we went to the enchanted springs ranch. lots of cowboys and damsels and stuff. usually. but there was no one around. we walked halfway into the place before we saw anyone. it was fun though. lots of animals. zebras and cattle and some exotic animals i couldnt see. from there we went to gristmill… a restaurant in an old cotton gin. very good. then we went shopping at an outlet mall. books on the cheap. nothing better.

enchanted springs ranch.



texas rangers. not the baseball guys.



the entrance to the town. pretty sure it’s all fake.



donkey!



the local post office… leave a forwarding address.



the undertaker… boxes on the cheap.



one of the two saloons in town… drunks.



the other saloon! good times!



judge roy bean’s place.



hardware store. nails for coffins.



you know, the one that’s always standing and walking.



portable homes- brilliant!



indian burial ceremony.



they looked like bones of horses and buffalo.



pond!



horses!



more horses!



there’s catfish in there… i swear.



moo.

gristmill restaurant.



the entrance to the historic gristmill restaurant.



old bricks making up the walkway to the restaurant.



yet another texas plaque… read it.



one of the 10 dining areas inside.



the water tower on the property.



again, from underneath.



i bought a ton of books at an outlet… $145 worth for $35. hells ya.