| 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, May 31, 2004
Well, it's shit...that's right, shit! Shit may just be the most functional word in the English language. Consider - You can get shit-faced, be shit out of luck, or have shit for brains. With a little effort, you can get your shit together, find a place for your shit, or be asked to shit or get off the pot. You can smoke shit, buy shit, sell shit, lose shit, find shit, forget shit, and tell others to eat shit. Some people know their shit, while others can't tell the difference between Shit and Shineola. There are lucky shits, dumb shits, and crazy shits. There is bull shit,horse shit, and chicken shit. You can throw shit, sling shit, catch shit, shoot the shit, or duck when the shit hits the fan. You can give a shit or serve shit on a shingle. You can find yourself in deep shit or be happier than a pig in shit. Some days are colder than shit, some days are hotter than shit, and some days are just plain shitty. Some music sounds like shit, things can look like shit, and there are times when you feel like shit. You can have too much shit, not enough shit, the right shit, the wrong shit or a lot of weird shit. You can carry shit, have a mountain of shit, or findyourself up shit creek without a paddle. Sometimes everything you touch turns to shit and other times you fall in a bucket of shit and come out smelling like a rose. When you stop to consider all the facts, it's the basic building block of the English language. And remember, once you know your shit, you don't need to know anything else! You could pass this along, if you give a shit. Or not do so, If you don't give a shit! Well shit, it's time for me to go. Just wanted you to know that I do Give A Shit and hope you had a nice day, without a bunch of shit. But if you happened to catch a load of shit from some shit head.... Well, shit happens. © 2004 big box industries Sunday, May 23, 2004
   to realms much much higher where the light is brighter still and to will is to fly first above the brown and green and then into the white and blue and finally into gray and black with sparkles in between and here to pause and here to ponder Eve was not Adams first companion, before Eve there was Lilith. Not that much is known about Lilith, but she did bear Adam many offspring. Lilith bore Adam 144 daughters. The manifestations of the unions of Adam and Lilith were actually more a spawning than a birthing. During each of twelve full moons, Lilith and Adam would rest from their toils and lay together. In the morning, after these matings, would arrive 12 fully grown daughters, all dewy and fresh and ready for fun and adventure. They all doted on Adam, and for awhile he was content, but he soon tired of all their giddy and glee and wished for others more like himself. God took pity on his new creature and fashioned something different, for Adam he made Eve. God told Adam that Eve would provide for him others like himself. Adam was very anxious and during the next full moon he lay with Eve. Adam could hardly sleep, and the next morning he arose early to explore for a new spawning, but nothing could be found. © 2004 big box industries Sunday, May 09, 2004
In 1973, or perhaps it was 1972, I was a young erudite scholar, not, attending the University of Georgia, in the quaint and curious little town of Athens. Over a short interval of approximately six months I knew bliss. Over a short interval of approximately six months I lived in an old school house about 15 to 20 miles, although many times it seemed much further, from the University. This quaint and curious structure of erudition, far away from the maddening crowd, was perfect in every aspect. Behind and on the left was nothing but fenced fields were cows meandered. The nearest neighbor was several hundred yards away on the right. The old school house was several football fields from the road. This temple was very linear and symmetrical, think square or rectangle. The front door entered into an adequate size auditorium/gym with a full stage at the back. To the left and right were four large rooms of equal size, three classrooms and a huge kitchen. And then think loft, for the ceilings were very high. Did I mention auditorium with a full stage - wow! To get to the stage you took some stairs on the right. And as if this idyllic structure was not enough, it came with 2 inhabitants - Isadora and Duncan. Many a time, we, Kam, Dave, Alain, Helen, and myself, would come home after some flux in the welter, and with a call or a clap, they, I & D, on the quick they did come, every beat of their hearts seeming just for us. To watch their black woolly shapes scurrying across the fields, with all the abandon of the wind, was touching. I pine still. Flash forward, not all the way, but 25 years or so, and I was living in a small, 3 rd floor, one bedroom apartment. At the time, I had no land, no yard, no dirt, no, but that didn't stop me. I had spray painted several large 5 gallon containers and in these I placed my dreams. It was burrr, early March, and I was out on my entrance way checking things out. I noticed some interesting growth in 2 of my containers. I thought weeds but the leaves that were emerging were of some interest, so I left them to see what they would turn into. With dispatch I soon discovered pretty pink beating hearts. One for you and one for me and even enough for all the others. My suspect weeds were in fact virile pink bleeding hearts. It is a bit sad but true that with age I have become more memento. But try as I may, I have absolutely no recollection of planting these little pink bundles of joy, perhaps an angel or a fairy. My little ones have proved to be ever faithful. Each Spring for a time they come back and we share. In honor of my distant friends I have named my bleeding hearts Isadora and Duncan.  This year when they first broke ground, one was a bit more plumed than the other. Plum said that the one with the most flowers was Isadora. As I watch them both now, enjoying the day, each so proud, its hard to tell which is witch, both being abundant in their splendor.  © 2004 big box industries Saturday, May 08, 2004
First to flower and then to seed and then to sot they all go. Only by placing The Rose on The Cross does another way manifest. © 2004 big box industries Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Grass. Green and more. Growing and getting closer to god. There has and will always be a special bond between grass and those that dew/do/due. What is so special about this bond? What is it about grass that gives it merit? Why would one care? I think I know. I think therefore I am. I think I know. It is not the visual. Green is good but not good enough. It is not the scent. The smell of fresh cut grass does comfort but still one’s soul asks for more. One can not hear the grass grow but I suppose it does make a sound as it stretches. And still one longs for the verdant. And all I asked for was her touch, near me and willing. And all I asked for was a way, to feel like I was a King. And all I asked for was a splendor beckoning. With grass, green, it is the feeling. A feeling that makes one swoon. It is the feeling of feet upon the floor. It is the feeling of bare feet, no socks, no shoes, gliding on velvet, closer and closer, towards tomorrow. It is the feeling that perhaps one is a God and all is right in the Universe. Get you to some feet bare, and in the verdant know the splendor. © 2004 big box industries It is getting harder and harder to find. I thought perhaps it was just me, but I am beginning to hear it everywhere. It is getting harder to the find the good stuff. It is getting harder to find it fresh. Dammit! It is getting harder and harder to find fresh fish. Everything has that couple of day's funk to it. It has all been outsourced. You pay good money and you get tainted goods. It has all been screened and tested. It's all so aseptic. All the life has been squeezed out of it. It has all been commercialized, homogenized; it is all the hobgoblin of little minds, teeny, tiny. And after awhile the smell is not just bad, after awhile it starts to smell like shit. Propaganda - Repetition - Hypnosis. © 2004 big box industries
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