| Frêsh Fish |
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Archive Mea Culpa. The above Archive Link & the Search This Blog Link do not work. This happened after Google, the king of search, bought Blogger?
Frêsh Fish - Much magic for a little fish.
Frêsh Fish is a combination of new and spirited with the added bonus being that everyone knows that fish is best fresh. The icing on the cake was that my mother’s mother, Lena, always told her and she me, that fish was brain food. So with Frêsh Fish we have spirited and new food for thought, ideas, that ain’t got no stink. I was suppose to eat fish today and did not. I hope I can be forgiven.
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Monday, September 30, 2002
If you find a man with dirt under his nails, you have found a good man. I just got finished planting some yellow mums and yellow pansies. I mixed a little of the hair I collected the other day from when I got coiffed, in with the dirt. I was surprised at how soft and delicate my hair cuttings were. (Click on the pix for more of the story Coiffed.) And while the sun was hiding, he planted his seed, deep within the dark with the strange smells, and felt content. © 2002 big box industries Tick, tock, tick, tock, it is a little after 8 o'clock, and the big boys, the suits, are already starting to sweat over how the stock market is going to open at 9:30 AM EST. Most people are still partying and buying all kinds of things and seem to be oblivious that we are in the grips of a pronounced bear market. The Dow is hitting 4 year lows, the NASDAQ is hitting 6 year lows, oil is over $30 a barrel, corporate crooks are everywhere, and tensions in the Middle East are hitting +8 on the Richter scale. 
Bear Market 2002 And still the word to the sheep, all you 401 K'ers and mutual fund holders, is that the best long term strategy is to stay invested in the market. After Enron et. al., if you believe anything a suit would say, perhaps you deserve to keep on getting fucked. Just as a reminder, the Japanese stock market is hitting 20 year lows. Look at almost any stock, any prior darling of Wall Street, and it will blow your mind - Sun Micro Systems - $2.67, Seibel - $6.67, Intel - $14.62, EDS - $14. All of these gushers were over $100 a share just two years ago. It's hard to believe that these stocks will go any lower, but they will. This bear is a bitch and it is not going to hibernate for the winter. But hey, it's Monday and there is a nice Fall nip in the air and your sugar still needs some presents. I don't want to completely demoralize you. There is hope on the horizon. I am going to tell you something that you are not going to read or hear anywhere else. In my next entry, I am going to tell you when the market is going to partial recover and why. Prior commentary on the stock market, 7/22/02, How Is Your 200.5 Doing?. Erratum - Annual GDP for the US economy is approximately $10 trillion. 8/19/02, Bear Market Math. © 2002 big box industries Saturday, September 28, 2002
I am rather fond of perhaps. It portends of such pregnant possibilities. I find myself use perhaps with some frequency. Perhaps I use it with such punctuality because perhaps is just a phun little word to play with. One of the nice things about perhaps is that anyone can acquire the propensity. Anyone can start perhapsing in about 7 seconds. Before you know it - you are perhapsing this and perhapsing that - and actually having a little phun. The phun, at least for me, is that I know that using perhaps is a little game, but perhaps others don't. Another nice thing about perhaps is that it is prehensible, it is very handy. Perhaps performs under a plethora of conditions. It is like a swiss army knife. When in doubt - perhaps? I can't recall in my ponderings how I acquire the habit of using perhaps. There are certain phrases and words were I can trace the acquaintance to a unique source, like "why not?" and "quaint and curious" or "odalisque". But the pathology of perhaps alludes me. Perhaps its use is just an acquired taste? © 2002 big box industries Thursday, September 26, 2002
E≠mc2 Everyone has a nodding acquaintance with the formula E=mc2. It’s a pretty neat little equation. Most of modern science is predicated on this equation being true. However, there is a little problem with this formula, a little problem that most physicists would rather not consider. Most of you probably remember that c stands for the speed of light. Nothing is supposed to be able to travel faster than the speed of light, except maybe gravity. Thus the little problem, we have something in the equation that doesn’t exist, c2. If nothing can travel faster than the speed of light, c, then, politely put, the term c2 is a non sequitur, c2 does not exist. Illusion is Reality © 2002 big box industries Wednesday, September 25, 2002
A trinity, a trinity, we want a trinity. “That just goes to show that things are not what they seem.” With both eyes open, stick a finger in front of your face. Ponder. Wow! This is my finger. Now, with both eyes still focused on the finger in front of your face, close your right eye. Ponder. Wow! This is my finger. Now this is the tricky part. While still focusing on the finger in front of your face, open your right eye and close your left eye. Notice how the finger in front of your face moves relative to the background. Wow! Where exactly is your finger? Illusion is Reality. © 2002 big box industries Sustenance for weary souls. Fodder to comfort. An easing of a hunger. Tranquillity and the sparkle of bliss. Bliss with bells and tinkles. It is a Poeish morning. I suspect the use of Poe as an adjective is rara avis - like a black swan - rare. A Poeish morning. A persistent but gentle, splish / splash, pitter/patter. A burr and witch's tits kind of morning. A pull closer, wish you were here, baby you are the best, kind of time. Done without dispatch. A lingering of spirit and soul. And in the background a rumbling, a disturbance of the force. The beating, the beating of a… A trinity, trinity, we want a .. Spirit, soul, and heart. There are 3 or 4 guys peeing on the roof. It's raining. © 2002 big box industries Friday, September 20, 2002
Moon above the trees at night Shinning glorious Shinning bright Wearing a veil of ghostly white With sometime shadows dancing on her sheen. 
Round and round and round she goes Round she is And round she knows This is how she finds her whey Round and back again. And when thus I pause and look to see Whether she is beaming back at me A curtain has fallen on Act I And black has claimed the night. © 2002 big box industries I caught this snap while I was wandering around the apartment complex. Minnie has got it made. All she has to do is hang. But then I am not sure what she will do for lunch tomorrow?  © 2002 big box industries I went and got my hair cut today. Stylists always tell me I have very nice hair. I went gray long ago. Fortunately, my hair is a distinguished silver gray with a little brown fighting its last battles mixed in.  © 2002 big box industries Thursday, September 12, 2002
It could have been at a club, or a neighborhood bar, or the grocery store, or the gas station. Like a wolf, I have a roving eye, always on the prowl for a little eye candy. Every woman has her feature. It could be the delicate finesse of her painted nails, or the stretch of her foot, or the welcome of her scent, or the thrill of her cadence. I do on occasion ask for forgiveness, but I am just a creature of flesh and blood. I am just a man. Actually it all began at my favorite discount store, Marshall's. I pecked around in the clearance section, size 34/36 pants, XL t-shirts and tops. Nothing blew me away. Next it was kitchen stuff and knickknacks and candles and picture frames. Again naught. I already had enough junk. You never know though what they might have in the shoe section? 9 1/2 - nothing. I was heading toward erehwon when my bargain hunting eyes fell upon a stunning creature in the women's lingerie section. This little banshee was holding up a pair of white cotton panties to her midsection in an attempt to ascertain there appeal. My mind had already voted, "Oh! Yes!" My little dark complected nymph was about 5'4", excessively proportioned, wearing a short little school girl skirt with a strained harvest pique a boo top and burgundy open toed candies. She wore her dark tresses up in a loose bun and had an air about her that suggested that she was competent in all her affairs. Her radar must have detected a blip on the screen. She jerked her head up and toward the left and caught me all over her. If I had been intrigued before I was now beguiled. My vixen had flush pouty lips and dark dewy doe eyes that sparkled and beckoned folly. Like a possum caught in the headlights, I just stood there drooling, with a dumbfounded little school boy look on my face. My prey didn't seem to mind though. Without another thought, she turn her attention back to the teasing white cotton panties between her legs and actually used her right hand to slowly smooth down a part of the front that had buckled up, as if she was being naughty just for me. I walked off in a daze searching for my wits. Seconds, minutes, hours, daze. I was a bit undone, but I was not leaving until I snuck another peek at my well endowed tease with the white cotton panties. I stumbled off, ostensively to search for something that would bring me a little comfort in my time of need. I stumbled off searching for flannel sheets. I must have been in the zone, because as soon as I hit the sheet section I saw a set of yellow saffron flannel sheets that I had to have. For a few grains of sand, I almost forgot about my little queenie, as I checked size and price and felt the flannel yield to my touch.  But then I startled to the sound of burgundy, wooden soled candies on the hard floor. My head jerked up and there she was, shimmering up to the front of the store, with something white clutched in her right hand. I snatched up the yellow flannel and followed her lead. It was early afternoon and there was only one checkout line open. She was third in line; I was fourth. Her scent was everywhere, and the tease was close enough to touch. I tried to feign indifference, as the clerk bagged and collected. My prey seemed oblivious, absentmindedly staring out the window, as she ever so slightly rubbed the white cotton between the well manicured thumb and forefinger of her right hand. "Next." "I just have these." As the clerk reached out to touch, reached out to take the white delicates, I could see that they were size 6. The clerk scanned the tag, hit total, and ask, "Cash or charge?", as she gently folded the purchase and brought up a small bag from underneath the counter. Panty girl unzipped her burgundy leather purse and began rummaging around. Her search became a bit more frantic, pulling out this and that, as she continued exploring all her nooks and crannies. And then the rummaging stopped. "I'm a bit embarrassed. I seem to have left my ducats at home. I guess I will have to put these back and get them next time." "Oh! No! They must never touch the skin of another.", I thought as I heard myself say, "Hi! Why don't you let me get those for you? I would be a little sad if you left without anything." She put up some resistance, but this was a discount store and we were only talking about five bucks. "Why not?" "Thanks." The clerk added my flannel sheets to the total and I paid whatever. After I tucked away my receipt, I handed panty girl her parcel, as I introduced myself, "Hi. My name is Bob. I actually caught you trying those on back there." With a puckish grin she answered, "Hi. I'm from Argentina. My friends call me Loupe. I saw you looking at me back there and I liked it." She fumbled around in her purse for a sec and then handed me a white, no not the panties, a white business card. "You have been very considerate. Why not come by my place in about 2 hours and let's see what we can do to compensate you for your generosity? I don't live far from here. My address is on the card." I reached out to take the card and as I touched it the little hairs on my arm stood on end and my mind swam in an ocean of feral delights. "Wow! This is a first for me. Buy a woman some white panties and then get invited over to her place. Wild horses couldn't keep me away." "Ola! See you around 4." And as I watched her do the rumba to her car, I stared at her card over and over again. Loupe Canus. 31415 Ponce de Leon. Atlanta, GA. 30305. No phone number, just the address. I had a little time to kill, so I headed home. I knew I wasn't going to get much done because the tide was coming in. Everywhere I looked, Loupe was frolicking around in the waves of my consciousness, every now and then popping up with those damn white cotton panties. When I got home, I tried to blog, but all I seemed able to get out was - Loupe, Loupe, Loupe - white cotton panties. I poured some Solar Ice into a shot glass and since I wanted to remember before I forgot, I slowly sipped it. The vodka was warm and bit a little going down, but it did quell the storm some. It was 2:45 PM EST, when I finally decided to get ready. I picked out some Tommy Hillfiger, black slacks and a ribbed white tank top. In honor of Loupe I selected my favorite Allen Solley, white, 100% cotton, boxers. No socks, I was going to wear sandals. I did all the good stuff, showered, shaved, and fucked with my hair, and got dressed. By 3:15 PM EST, I was out the door, heading towards nirvana, heading towards 31415 Ponce de Leon. I stopped at Publix's on the way and got a bottle of prechilled champagne and a bouquet of red carnations. Why not? I vaguely knew where 31415 Ponce de Leon was. Ponce was in an old part of town where you had - old, new, falling apart, and magnificent. 31000, 31200, 31300, 31400… I slowed down and began squinting to the left, to catch the fleeting numerals on the mail boxes. You couldn't see the house from the street at 31415, but wow!!  I know it's my fantasy and everything, but this was too much. Then again, whatever. Because of the oncoming traffic, I continued up Ponce, but the first chance I got I made a left u-turn and zeroed in on 31415 Ponce. I pulled in between the staid sentries, the column gate posts, and headed up the drive. Where was I? I wasn't exactly sure. I was very near, yet very far. About a tenth of a mile up the entrance drive, to the left, was a spectacular open garden and a paved entrance. I swung in and hung right. I turned into The Garden. The garden was a wide open enclosure surrounded by tall hard woods. An untouched sanctuary in the middle of Atlanta. On the right was a large stone stairway that led up into the sky, up into what might be heaven. I was so awed by all this that for the briefest of moments I almost forgot about Loupe and the white cotton panties.  I didn't formally park my car. I just stopped and got out. If someone needed to get by there was plenty of room to get around my car. With a bottle of champagne in my left hand and a bouquet of fragrant red carnations in my right, I made my ascension. All of this and I had yet to see the house. I would play my part, the conquering warrior. I strutted up the stone staircase, proud. And then there it was. House was certainly the wrong word. Perhaps mansion, or estate, or castle. There was the castle, were dragons kept Loupe at bay, were dragons lusted after the bad girl with white cotton panties. Fight or flight? I to sword and shield did rise. The estate was about 100 yards away. There must have been another entrance, but this way was certainly a very impressive way to enter. I hopped, I skipped, I ran, I flew, I soared, surreally across the verdant landscape, across the felt, across the grass. Enchanted still. As I approached the castle I noticed a white dot on the door. No not one, two white dots on the door. One on the door knob and another white square up and to the right. As I got closer the white dot was transformed into my bete noir, the white cotton panties were hung on the large brass door knob. Above the gleaming knob and to the right a note had been attached. (Tant pis! No snaps of the panties on the knob.) I mounted the three raised stairs that led to the massive oak paneled doors. I put the champagne and carnations down. Then I looked around. I seemed to be alone. I slowly reached out to touch, to caress, the size 6, white cotton panties hung on the brass door knob. The panties danced to my touch. They were warm. Perhaps the heat of the day or perhaps… And then there was the other white dot, then there was the note. I had to squint a bit to make it out. I had an emergency and had to leave. I hope I can be forgiven. I still desire your touch. Why not come back this evening around 10? The front door will be open. The panties are a memento. Use all your senses. My legs grew weak. The world spun faster. I could hardly stand. I had soared so high only a moment ago but now in an instant no goddess, no queen, no Loupe. But, but I did have the white cotton panties. I furtively glanced over my shoulder again to ensure I was alone, and then with my right hand I slowly reached out to procure the white cotton on the gleaming brass door knob. I ever so slowly brought the panties up over my face and inhaled. Yes, she had worn them. She had worn them just for me. It took me a few moments to come back from the nether to the closed massive oak doors. I was only half as sad now as I had been before. I replaced the panties on the knob. I stooped to get hold of the red carnations. I placed the bouquet in the open panty leg slit. I stooped again to get the champagne. I took the note off the door. I turned away and left. Going home I got caught in afternoon traffic. There was actually an accident up Ponce where I turn to get on 400. Some weirdo was driving his car around with a paper sack over his head and had smashed his car into an oak tree. But as I sat in traffic with my right foot on the brake, I didn't care. I had Talk is Cheap - Keith Richards - playing on the stereo. And I had Loupe and the white cotton panties playing with my mind. I made it to the apartment at about 5:30 PM EST. I put the champagne in the frig and then took my black slacks off and hung them up on a plastic hanger for later. I sat down at the computer to see how the stock market had done. Today had been an up day. I also checked my email. I had three new messages, one from Plum, one from M, and one from my brother. Plum wanted to know where I'd been all day? I'd been shopping and got some drop dead saffron yellow flannel sheets and even saw something that she might like. Yeah that's was the ticket. I didn't think I should tell her about Loupe and the white cotton panties. It was strictly a guy thing. M was all excited about her new web site. She had coded a three column blog by hand and done a very nice job. I didn't have the heart though to tell her that on my 19" screen at home the background was white and the titles were black and looked great, but on my 21" screen at work the background came out green and the titles were some sort of gray. For some reason I was much fonder of the white panty version. My brother had shorted the market on the close, stating that he thought the market would tank going into 9/11. Puts, calls, bears, bulls, I couldn't be bothered with all of that at the moment. Right now, all I could get my mind around was white cotton panties. I still had plenty of time to account for, so I pulled up Adobe Photoshop Elements and start to edit some snaps I had taken the morning before of the geese at the river, with mist still come off the water, and a hint of fall in the air. One of the dirty little secrets of digital photograph is that you just don't point and shoot and then drop your media card off at the drugstore. One is much more involved, one actually has to process each snap. It takes a certain amount of skill and lots of time. The early morning snaps of the river and the mist and the geese came out pretty good, but they only look their best full screen. I was also pleased with a few shots of trees out over the running water as they began to change the color of their leaves from green to red. But my fav for the day was of the footmometer. It's a snap of me soaking my feet in the river and feeling a little empathy for the geese because the water was a bit nip, nip, nippy.  No that's not right. My favorite of the day was of a squad of honk, honk, like a bike horn, a squad of geese heading home for the winter.  Tick, tock, tick, tock, it was almost 8 o'clock. I needed it. I needed it really bad. I know you are going to be thinking Loupe and the white cotton panties, but actually what I needed bad was food. I hadn't eaten all day and I was wolf hungry. I needed some sustenance before my encounter. I remembered seeing some steak hanging out in the frig when I had put the champagne away when I came in. (Hey! What ever happened to the yellow saffron flannel sheets. Hum? Fucked up there. Must have left them in the car. There is another version of this story where I bring the yellow sheets in from the car and wash and dry them and then take a nap and have a tasteful, yet extremely erotic dream, but it is a bit too much for the blog. ) There was also some kick ass, i made it myself, salad left over from the other day. And because I had been extra good and god loved me a lot, there was some aging red wine in the crystal decanter. Time to start tick, tock, getting in the mood. I popped Enigma MCMXC a. D. into the cassette player and headed into the kitchen to do my thing. First, unto these lips I do press, I went over to the top cabinet in the kitchen near the sink and got my favorite wine goblet. From the decanter I half filled the clear wine goblet with blue swirls with the red elixir and yes, pressed it to my lips. I took a healthy sip from the goblet and swirled and swooshed the red around in my mouth before in one satisfying gulp taking it all below. I was now stimulated and ready to assume one of my many guises - Chef Salute'. I put the wine goblet down, turned the left front electric stove burner on to about 6, grabbed a nonstick skillet off a peg on the wall and placed it on the left front burner that was starting to come alive. I went to the frig and got out some rare red meat and a stick of salted Land of Lakes butter. I put the steak on the counter near my wooden cutting board and then I grabbed a wooden handled steak knife. A trinity, a trinity, we want a trinity -I sliced off 3 cubes of the Land of Lakes and waited for the skillet to…Whoa! Whoa! Way to much superfluous detail. How about..I put on Strange Little Girls - Tori Amos. I pan fried a steak, a rare blood red. Gurgled and swooshed some more wine. Bang, bang, did 2 Polar Ice vodka shooters. Showered, and dressed, and by the time Heart of Gold started to spin and make me dizzy I was ready for just about anything and left. I was ready for anything, but all I really wanted was Loupe and the white cotton panties. My mind was aflutter with fantasy. A little girl comes up to me in the mall and says, "Excuse me sir are these yours?" Loupe bends over in her little school girl skirt and I see? Loupe is prostrated on the floor in front of me wearing only the white cotton panties. I hold a goblet of red, red, wine. As the elixir caresses my lips, a drop of wine falls from the rim of the goblet onto Loupe's white cotton panties. As the red stain slowly spreads, Loupe moans. I'm not exactly sure how I made it to 31415 Ponce. I am not sure how I made the U-turn and then the right past the staid sentries. I forget how I eased up the paved entrance and then made a left into The Garden. But I do remember that after I made it to the top of the massive stone staircase and looked off to the left, that I was enchanted - still.  I had forgotten the champagne still chilling in the frig, but this was the type of estate that probably had everything. The castle certainly looked different in the moonlight, and I was a little apprehensive because although there was a faint glow emanating from inside the dwelling, it really didn't appear as if anyone was home. The crickets sang and the stars danced as I with some trepidation slowly sauntered forward. I finally got close enough to discern that someone had removed the white cotton panties from the brass door knob. That was a good sign. But up and to the right there was still a white dot, a note, a message, a communica. Perhaps Loupe had another, another emergency. Perhaps I was still all alone. Perhaps she had already ceased her submission to the spell. Perhaps… Again I mounted the entrance stairs. And again I squinted to make out the note affixed to the massive right wood paneled door. L I had thought it was, "I will have ten heads and a hundred arms. I tire of fighting with mere mortals. Bring me giants!" But all I could find was, "I will be wild and terrible as lightning! An army will not sate my appetite, who have ten hearts and twenty arms to-night. Avaunt! you dwarves of valour." - Cyrano de Bergerac - Edmond Rostand But for me it was actually more of a "Childhood living is easy to do.", Stones gig. "Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away." I was coming and I hoped that Loupe was ready. The massive right hardwood paneled door was, as predicted, slightly a bowl, a cup, ajar. With stealth I proceeded, into the sanctuary, into the chamber. No lights were on but there were candles everywhere.  No lights were on but there were candles everywhere.  And then I saw it. A candle to the right. And from this candle proceeded a dripping of candle wax on the floor, on the dark stained floor. The floor would never be the same and someone would pay, but I knew it wasn't going to be me and at the moment I didn't care. Candle wax on the dark stained floor, white on dark. I followed. The candle wax led to a door behind the circular staircase. Down not up. And just at the door, that was slightly a cup, a bowl, ajar, was one of Loupe's burgundy candies. Yes my love I was coming, with all I had to give. Slowly I preceded, down, down, down into whatever. A bit more down the stairs I encounter the other shoe and then some burgundy stockings. The panties, the panties, where were the panties? Perhaps since I had been so good, Loupe would be wearing them. And nothing else. Further still I ventured. I came to a landing of sorts, and then another hot wax candle. The candle beckoned me into an entrance strange, very strange. The opening was very small. The only way I could enter was to, on hands and knees, was to crawl.  Here I hesitated. Here I, inhaled, exhaled, waited to catch my sanity. But all of my restraint was for not, once I heard the call. From the entrance I began to hear the most fetching of undulations, the most fetching of vibrations, the most fetching of sounds. I had experienced the moans and cooing of many women in the heat of the night but the vibrations coming forth from the whole before me was of another dimension. I needed to be near this. I needed it to know my touch. I would get dirty, my black slacks soiled, but a women was calling. A women was calling with all her powers and wilds. Into the whole I ventured, unto a path of bliss. As they all do, eventually the passage opened, wide enough for me to stand. For a moment I came back, back to who I was, but only for a tick. Still I heard the encouragement of a woman, still I heard Loupe call.  Now that I could stand, I quickened my pace a bit. From the intensity of the moans and coos I knew I was close. But finally a ray of sanity. What was going on? This was a very elaborate ruse. The entire passage was lit with strategically placed light bulbs. Loupe had done this before. Many, many times. Still I was caught up in the spell of the moment and could not desist. Again, with some trepidation, slowly I preceded. From the sounds of Loupe's moaning and cooing, she was just around the bend. I quicken my pace just a bit. Curiosity had me completely. I had to see Loupe, and if I was lucky, the white cotton panties. Just as I rounded the bend, the lights in the passageway went out. But not quite before I had gotten a glimpse of Loupe in her lair. But my mind was a sea of confusion, with the sudden transformation of light into dark. My only clue was an afterimage, my only clue was blurred.  Groping in the dark, I slowly proceeded, "Loupe? Loupe? Where are you? Please turn the lights back on. I can't see a thing." I felt something warm and feline brush against my leg. Loupe must be on all fours. And then I felt a tongue licking my foot. I slowly reached down to caress Loupe's dark tresses. My right hand slowly reached down to touch, to touch. That's when every hair on my body stood erect, every hair on my body stood on end. The vague image I had glimpsed earlier of Loupe just before the lights when out suddenly came into focus. No!!!!!! Fight or flight? I must flee for my life, flee for my soul. Something was very, very, wrong. I don't know how I made it out of the tunnels in the dark. I hit my head several times on the solid rock and finally succumbed to crawling, crawling on hands and knees. The whole time I prayed. I prayed to whatever gods that were awake and could hear me. If only I would make it out of the darkness and into the light, out of the darkness and into the light, I would be good. I swear it. Please. Bleeding, scarred, and scabbed, I did make my exit. I ran through the house and out the door and across the lawn, never, ever, looking back. Only and forever wanting away. Still shaking I made it to my car. Left, right, right, and once again I was amongst my kind, those I knew. White cotton panties? I never want to see them again. Several dates have ended prematurely because my chosen had electing to entice me in this fashion. And Loupe? Well she was never really bad, just different. But some things are just not meant to be. I once was a warrior king I took them all in battle to the victor went the spoils kingdoms, and castles, and fair maidens I had them all. For a time this brought me contentment I fought by day and wenched by night and traveled the netherlands in search of wooden shoes and spirit folly For a time this brought me contentment until until I was enchanted enchanted by her eyes You are no fairy’s child too bewitching thy gaze. You are no child of woman born passions stirred to far past earthly bounds. The high arch of thine brow suggests pluck and pretty but nay this is just the mark of your way. Perhaps banshee or she wolf did once in woody darkness bare with howl, and scream, and bitch a wee one and then with lick left. © 2002 big box industries Sunday, September 08, 2002
© 2002 big box industries Wednesday, September 04, 2002
© 2002 big box industries Monday, September 02, 2002
Posted
7:40 AM
by robert d
A switch from swelter to swell Cadence beckons to slow Leaves serenely swirling Early sunsets scamper in Soups and stews and sweaters Scurrying for the flannel sheets Slumbering sweetly with pumpkin moons Surrendering to the sway. How come there is just spring, summer, and winter but autumn or fall? © 2002 big box industries Sunday, September 01, 2002
He looked up at the wolf calendar neatly tacked to the wall near the shadeless lamp on his night stand - September 2002 - feral yet not foe - a wolf. It was Sunday - the 1,8, 15, 22, 29 - the 1st Sunday - the first - September 1, 2002.  He looked to the right and squinted a bit to decipher the time on the white Sony dream machine on the dresser up against the wall opposite the bed - 11:32. night stand - bed, let's go with 11:32 pm. Brandon was doing it again. Brandon was writing about nothing and having a good time of it. Brandon was having such a good time writing about nothing because in the back of his quirky little brain lurked a secret. Sure he was writing about nothing but then things can change. Things can undergo a transformation, like the one-to-one correspondence mapping of fish into not fish. And Brandon knew that the one-to-one correspondence mapping of nothing into not nothing was everything. So on September 1, 2002, a bit before midnight, watched over by a wolf, Brandon wrote about everything. As he wrote though, he wondered that if he was really writing about everything how come he was leaving so much out. © 2002 big box industries Need a little WD 10-40 here, my myth and folklore is a little rusty. If hard pressed I would conjure that the ditty above is from Jack and the Bean Stalk. All that education and he doesn't know Jack. It is of some interest to observe that the fees and the fums are an attempt to help the young tyke master his vowels. And then we have the blood of Shawn and Kevin. Forgive me Father for I have sinned. I confess that I know little of the conflict between Ireland and England. But this I do know. There is lots of talk of the evils of tyrant and dictators and oppression throughout the world, and how this is wrong. But still in Ireland we have a large group of kindred souls who for hundreds of years have yearn for self rule and who have been, with a stain of red, denied. I really don't know the history of the English suppression of the Irish Catholics, but I really don't care. It would all be fee, fi, foe, fum. My heart and soul have already decided. My blood sings the songs of Shawn and Kevin. © 2002 big box industries
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