AUTHOR.CALHO: If I didn't write it, I would be hitch hiking cross country to Maine and then Alaska in that order. While taking frequent breaks to spread leaflets. And sit in diners. And write on things because I wasn't at a computer. I may still do that in a few years. Writing this also helps me forget about and better understand the limitations of being human, and keeps me busy enough to allow me no free time to burn the world down.

THEMATIC.ABOUT : Collapse often. The things that hold people together and hold them apart and scatter brains. The things that make thoughts go boom. The things that ooh and aah and [expletive deleted]. Sometimes poking around the margins where responsibility ends and the only one to look to is the Original Equipment Manufacturer and say "but, I already pressed 9 for more options and the menus are exactly the same. Can you just replace it?" The answer will be: "please hold." Sometimes hanging out in dark corners. Sometimes following the train tracks. Looking for ways out and ways in and all the while sharing the things seen and heard and done and drawn and written and scorched and healed and teased and caged and dreamed along the way.

7/30/08

six chords 07/30/08

Subject : The Six Chords I Strummed While We Lived
Posted Date: : Jul 30, 2008 6:31 AM

You, a monolith of Grecian manliness, tuned by an athletic ear both formidable in its endowments & remorseless in its tasks, whose shadow could no longer accommodate my pluck & pithiness.



Anticlimaxes flow like sex in a tub brimming with insecurity. That was the last thought in my mind as we fought, you, bare to the hips, & me, just bare as I conjoined our skulls in a final pathetic head butt.



"Pounds of force, how many?" Drunken calculus flew between us, under-armored bombers, spotlighted, on night raids over Berlin as we closed our eyes & leapt, scalps punching dual holes in the drywall ceiling.



What was I to do with a red box of 2200 bright orange Cheez-Its? I don't know. Who could with half a 30 rack under their belt? Going out your 2nd story window with them, just to spite you, was not my best idea.



I watched you fuck her; granted we all wanted a piece of Chang that year. I never waxed prolific as I did that night, but the problem with having a Crayola heart is that the best colors tend to run out first.



"Quick! Eat all the tangerines before they open the door!" Wednesdays were the best; do you remember those as clearly as I do? Clear as Sunday's sun breaching Saturday's tented & rain washed scrap metal?

///Vangelis - "Song of White" timeless vangelis at his usual best. thin synth and a drum line that is minimal in its composure, but collected in its execution make this a very tight track with little room for wild variation. there's more to life than drinking the entire liquor cabinet.

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