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Wednesday, April 2, 2008     April Fool!
(9:57 am)

Sorry about the recycled April Fool prank of yesterday. I put the same "error page" up as the page for naplesyellow.com as well. I wanted to do something like put up an official-looking FBI page saying my pages had been shut down for subversive activity or some such nonsense, but I thought better of it since the Feebees are fairly notorious for their singular lack of a sense of humor. I wonder if anyone bothered to read the fine print where it said it was an April Fools joke? Probably not.

It's National Poetry Month. Every April is. I wonder if April was designated as such because of T. S. Eliot's poem that starts with "April is the cruelest month." Perhaps he was thinking of National Poetry Month on the planet Vogon. . .


Poem of the Day:

     "Comment"

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Roumania.

-- Dorothy Parker


I'll try to put a short poem with each entry this month. If anyone reading this has a poem they'd like to share with a few other people via inclusion on this page, please click on the COMMENT button and send it along. Be sure to include your name and copyright date and any other pertinent information. You might even see a poem or two of mine here sometime during this month.

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Monday, April 7, 2008     . . . and Counting
(3:13 pm)

It's been two weeks since I paid for and placed the order for my Loop Station pedal. I really want to get started playing with that thing. I think it holds a lot of promise. My Giga-Delay does a simple loop, but it won't let me overdub or control the output level or any other parameters. I can't wait to get the loopy-doopy thingie.


Quote of the Day: "The last election just laid the foundation of the next 500 years of Dark Ages."

-- Frank Zappa (in 1981)


I hear a lot of cries announcing the return of Liberalism. On the other hand, I see a lot of staunch right-wing assholes in the Newsgroups and other online alcoves. They're always there, folks, waiting to pommel you with the litany of conservatism. Caution! They're not about to go away by themselves. You can't intimidate them. They have certitude on their side. They are true believers, and the one thing you can't shake is faith in a well-conceived and documented fiction.


Poem of the Day:

"20th Chorus"

Jazz killed itself
But dont let poetry kill itself
Don't be afraid
of the cold night air

Dont listen to institutions
When you return manuscripts to
brownstone
dont bow & scuffle
for Edith Wharton pioneers
or ursula major nebraska prose
just hang in your own backyard
& laugh and play pretty
cake trambone
& if somebody gives you beads
juju, jew, or otherwise,
sleep with them around your neck
Your dreams'll maybe be better
There's no rain,
there's no me,
I'm tellin ya man
sure as shit

-- Jack Kerouac


A long-time acquaintance of mine died two days ago. His name was Paul Poe. He was an interesting fellow. He retired from the State Tax Department, drove Limos in his retirement. He drove an older model Dodge that he kept in top notch shape. He used to come into the book store where I worked every day at noon and sometimes after work. He used to like to tell me the biggest lies, and play pranks on me. I suspect I wasn't his only target. One thing I didn't know about him that I found out from his obituary -- he was a quilter. He had made well over a hundred quilts. Who knew?

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Friday, April 11, 2008     Non-Profit Organization
(10:46 am)

This web endeavor of mine is non-profit. It wasn't intended that way. It just happened. I've attempted a number of things to allow this and my other sites to generate money, but nothing has worked. In fact, all the income I've realized from anything online has been entirely non-planned. So, from this moment on, I plan on making absolutely nothing from any web site. Maybe that'll do the trick.


Quote of the Day: "Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen."

-- Leonardo Da Vinci


I've added a couple new gizmos to my Information Page. This wonderful clock and the calendar come from Poodwaddle.com and may cause your browser to balk. Trust me, they're harmless, so you should allow this page and my Information Page to run the active content. If you run a web page, you might want to check out their other offerings. Well-done goodies.


Poodwaddle.com

Poem of the Day:

"BELLE IS THE PAINKILLER"

Belle went to the doctor
'Cause her neck was stuck in one position
And the doctor gave her some painkillers
They made her feel so good
Like she was floating
Totally erased her pain in the neck
Her neck started loosening up
And she thought:
If I feel this wow now
I should save those painkillers
For when I feel good
Then I'll feel better than I should
Somehow

How much will we withstand, before we kill our pain?

-- Sheri-D Wilson, from Girl's Guide To Giving Head

Used without permission. Please refer to my fair use statement on the top level page. Since Poetry is essentially a gift economy, I don't feel like most currently practicing poets will object to their work being more widely viewed. I know my own work has been propagated widely without my beforehand permission or even beforehand knowledge.


My son came over yesterday and took care of the yard work for me. He did a pretty decent job of it. I hate that my arthritis is bad enough now that I can't do it for myself. There are a lot of things I can't do that I used to be able to. Ann's getting the same way. Pretty soon, someone will just have to roll us up into a ball and park us in the corner. The things that bother me most about getting old are the limits time places on my mobility, vision, and memory. Everything else, there's a pill for.

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Wednesday, April 16, 2008     Terminal Case of Spring Fever
(5:19 pm)

It's been a prototypical spring day today. Temperature in the low 70's, light breeze, not a cloud in the sky. I sat on the porch swing for over an hour, just luxuriating in the wonderful meterological conditions. I could feel that pleasant lethargy set in. If I'd had a hammock out there instead of a swing, I'd have had myself a nice nap.


Quote of the Day: "How strange that we should ordinarily feel compelled to hide our wounds when we are all wounded! Community requires the ability to expose our wounds and weaknesses to our fellow creatures. It also requires the ability to be affected by the wounds of others...But even more important is the love that arises among us when we share, both ways, our woundedness."

-- M. Scott Peck


Ezra Pound is not nor has he ever been one of my favorite poets, and most certainly not one of the people I look up to. He was a dastard, a fascist, and a total asshole. But the man could write. Today's poem is one of my favorites.


Poem of the Day:

O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves

O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,
Give me in due time, I beseech you, a little tobacco-shop,
With the little bright boxes
      †††††piled up neatly upon the shelves
And the loose fragrant cavendish
      ††††and the shag,
And the bright Virginia
     †††††loose under the bright glass cases,
And a pair of scales not too greasy,
And the whores dropping in for a word or two in passing,
For a flip word, and to tidy their hair a bit.

O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,
Lend me a little tobacco-shop,
     †††††or install me in any profession
Save this damn'd profession of writing,
     †††††where one needs one's brains all the time.

-- Ezra Pound


I'm using MySpace as a way of organizing my pictures that I've posted here over the years. However, in order to view them, you have to sign on as my MySpace friend. How about that -- incentive to get yourself MySpace page.

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Thursday, April 17, 2008     All Hail Xylocaine!
(11:16 am)

Ann's been in a lot of pain lately. Her shoulder somehow got messed up. She went to her regular doctor and had X-rays done, then an MRI. Yesterday she went to the orthopedic surgeon. He gave her a cortizone shot. Well, those shots come with a heaping helping of xylocaine, which knocked out the pain completely for several hours. It didn't last until bedtime, but by then the cortizone was starting to do its work and she finally got a decent night's sleep for the first time in months. And so did I.


Quote of the Day: "Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment."

-- Ellis Peters


As I am composing this, my cable company is having the dry heaves. A while ago we only had channels 2-8 and 10-13. Everything else was missing. The Internet didn't work either. It comes and goes. And amazingly enough, their phone is busy! Who'd a thunk it?


Poem of the Day:

John M. Bennett

-- John M. Bennett (Copyright © 2007 -- used by permission)


Speaking of pain, I've had my own share and then some lately. I think this fact is part of the reason I'm not very creative lately. It's hard to follow an idea to a culmination point when physical pain of one degree or another grabs your attention at very frequent intervals. It's difficult for me to even do simple things like read or play music. I'd love to get out and walk and take photographs of all the trees in bloom before they drop their petals and wax green. That'll never happen. I'd love to get together with some people and play out somewhere, but that's not likely either when I don't know from one day to the next whether I'll feel well enough to do more than sit and watch TV or nap. It ain't easy being me right now.

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Tuesday, April 22, 2008     Ordered Goods
(10:19 am)

Last year on March 8, I ordered a guitar from Gorby's Music. It took a month to get it, after being promised delivery in a week. Well, this year I ordered a Boss Loop Station from House of Music on March 24. Check the date, Jon. It's not here yet. I call every week (after the first two went by) and every week I'm told "one more week." This shit gets old. The music stores in this area don't carry anywhere close to a comprehensive line of probucts among them, and it seems like every time I order something, there's a problem getting it here in one piece and in a timely fashion. Then there's the problem of not being able to try it before I buy it. Musical instruments and equipment are hard to evaluate from a photograph and a description. Even a review doesn't speak to the individual item that I'd end up with. I really don't want to make trips to Columbus several times a year just so I can lay hands on new things. What's to be done? Not much that I can see. Now, if music store employees would just stop lying to me. . .


Quote of the Day: "Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail."

-- Henry David Thoreau


I thought a quote from Thoreau would be most appropriate for Earth Day. It's also election day in Pennsylvania. It'll be interesting to see how that turns out. I'm more concerned with the general election in November. I'm sure the dirty tricks on behalf of John McCain will start flying as soon as an presumptive Democratic candidate emerges. The very last thing we need in this country is a continuation of ANY of Bush's policies. McCain once sounded like the voice of reason as opposed to Bush's Wonderland vision of the world. Now he just sounds like a faint carbon copy of the Blunderboy. I somehow can't bring myself to trust anyone who was ever tortured and held in a POW camp for years, no matter how pristine his original intent. Couple the fragility of a mind subjected to such depravations with a notoriously volatile temper, and I don't think the man should have his finger on the button that operates a blender, much less a nuclear trigger. I heard a lot of people who voted for Bush say how much they were afraid of Kerry. Huh? I don't see where there was anything to fear from him, other than perhaps new taxes on the upper brackets. McCain, however, is to be feared greatly. And why is it I hear no one else speaking of this?


Quote of the Day:

Variation on a Theme (6)

Etched on glass by sex and dust,
left for years to grow a patina,
cracked and fragile, enormous,
enigmatic and transparent.
Years past an echo of something
yet to be rings, portends.
All forgotten, she is hid behind
some wooden door, nailed shut,
preserved as evidence
of a chess master's accumen
and lack of respect for the fairer sex.

Naked and splayed for all to view, wired,
nailed to some ephemeral cross,
fondled and violated by sun
and lakeshore breeze,
stashed away in a museum of the spleen,
she rustles against the crenolin creation.

Cicada noises rise up and pierce her eye.
She relaxes only when the men who were
supposed to love her and protect her instead
sell her nightly to the drifting detritus come to town
to carouse and pull respect from the least likely of places.

Even!

     Copyright © 2004 J. Michael Mollohan


See, I told you I might inflict one of my own poems on you at some point this month. This is one of the more recent ones I've written. I go through periods where I write poems and others where I don't. These periods can last years. In the early 70's I wrote a lot of poems, mostly during the time I was playing music full-time and going to school at WVU and WVSU. Then, in the 80's and early 90's I wrote very little. Mostly I painted and played my guitar (in additon to working and raising kids).In the late 90's I subscribed to AOL and got involved in several poetry groups, since the art groups were pretty much non-existent or dormant. I wrote a good deal then. Nothing notable however. If you want to see some of this flotsam and jetsam, check my Archives Poetry Page

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Thursday, April 24, 2008     Finally!
(11:04 am)

My loop pedal arrived yesterday. I drove down to South Charleston to pick it up. They gave me a power supply daisy chain cable to help make up for my inconvenience. I made the rounds of most of the music stores I usually frequent just to see what's up, as I've not been to any of them in a while. The Pied Piper is doing a complete remodel. It's a mess at the moment. I think it will be great when it's finished. They'll have less floor space, since the area vacated by Jungle Drums is going to be walled off and used by someone else, but I think it will be a better presentation than before. Gorby's is still Gorby's. House of Music is starting to be the same old cluttered safety hazard that it was at the old location, except for the guitar room. It's still moderately orderly. How long can that possibly last? Anywho, by the time I got home, I was in such bad shape that I wasn't able to play with my Loop Pedal. (ASIDE: K T Tunstall calls her pedal her "chihuahua." I'm not 100% certain, but from the breif glimpses I get of her pedals, I think she uses a Boss RC-2. Mine is the RC-20, a double pedal. Why I got the larger one I couldn't tell you. Anyway, mine's too big to be a chihuahua, so I guess I'll call mine a Beagle.)


Poem of the Day:

Making Up Dreams To Please My Therapist

There they were, all lined up
on a garden shelf, fifty-seven horses
nostrils flaring, bodies hollow
and stuck inside them
unlike the Trojan
big yellow stars
barely visible through their tails.

I could never afford him
but I loved the marked stallion,
the one set in Venice
with a two-headed rider
jumping gondolas manned
by nude women, their elongated hands
stained half blue.

The crackled heart deep
between the continents of the only elephant
appeared to be symbolic so I stole it.

"You did this?" the therapist asks. "Yes, I did it for you.
Do you think Iím crazy?
Should I keep it?"

"Damn straight" he says.

Copyright © 2005 Patricia Wallace Jones


This poem is by a long-time online friend of mine who lives in Northern California. She moved there from St. Louis when her husband retired. This poem originally appeared in Tilt, a now defunct online magazine in 2005. Pat says that part of the inspiration came from something she overheard in a grocery store, i.e., "I am so boring I have to make up dreams to please my therapist. . ." The other part of the inspiration for this piece came from the horses in the following photograph. The horses were done by a friend of Pat's, Linda Kristianson. Pat has several of her horses.

Linda Kristianson horses. Photo © Pat Jones

Quote of the Day: "The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another."

-- Henry Van Dyke, Fisherman's Luck, 1899


Lovely weather we're having. All the cars have a protective layer of yellow pollen. The clouds threaten, then move on. Ah, spring. The season of allergies and achy joints. It's gotten to the point where I can no longer mow my grass. I need to find a teenager with a good work ethic and a magnanimous nature.

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Tuesday, April 29, 2008     RIP Albert Hoffman
(6:54 pm)

Albert Hoffman died today. He was an iconic figure, right up there with Timothy Leary, Baba Ram Das, Owsley Stanley, and Aldous Huxley, at least in the sub-culture circles where LSD was the sacrament. I feel a sense of loss, moreso particularly in that he may have been related to me. My maternal grandmother's maiden name was Hoffman.


Poem of the Day:

Au Revoir

Something happened to time
Or something happened to the mind
In time in the months
Of the 1st year after
The 20th century ended
Never before had the present
Filled so with the past's
Immediate and enormous
Body Everything said
Which was meant to be said now
Was a mistake
Now was over really & though
We'd expected it to be over
Years and years before
Here we were
There, the future oh my
Inside its elephant alphabet

Claudia Keelan


I've been in considerable pain for about a week now. The weather may have something to do with it. I think our mattress has given out. As soon as I lie down at night my back and hips start to hurt. During the day, they ache nearly all the time. My ankle, knees, and right shoulder have gotten into the game too. I need to find a new doctor and get my Celebrex® prescription rewritten.


Quote of the Day: "I share the belief of many of my contemporaries that the spiritual crisis pervading all spheres of Western industrial society can be remedied only by a change in our world view. We shall have to shift from the materialistic, dualistic belief that people and their environment are separate, toward a new conciousness of an all-encompassing reality, which embraces the experiencing ego, a reality in which people feel their oneness with animate nature and all of creation."

-- Albert Hoffman


The Pittsburgh Penguins lead The New York Rangers in the second round Stanley Cup series two games to none. The third game just started. See ya!

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