| 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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Sunday, February 27, 2005
And Master Phat was fast a dreaming. First he dreamt past all the forms with their incessant logic, and then he came to the swirl of all the pretty colors. When Master Phat came to yellow he slowed. His dreaming turned to Spring. This brought Master Phat contentment. He dreamt of the yellow crocus. He wondered if they would be friends again?  And as Master Phat focused on the coming Spring and yellow and his friend the crocus, he needed less and Master Phat became smaller. And as Master Phat became smaller, the many voices in his head became fainter and fainter, until they finally ceased. Here Master Phat was content again. He was the Spring and he would use part of his yellows to be with his friend the crocus. The Crocus Too Was Stirring Fading Into Flicker © 2005 big box industries Monday, February 21, 2005
Sunday, February 20, 2005
He was cowering in his fox hole waiting for instructions with the pack, peck, pick, puck of the ordinance searing overhead. He was in hell and finally knew as he prayed that he was not a devil. He prayed for another yesterday, today, and tomorrow. He prayed for the gentle trickle down his cheeks, not trickles of hot salty blood or gushy tears, but trickles of gentle rain, pristine and clean. He was all cat content purring under the covers. He stretched this way and that and knew slow bliss. He was a once and future king and the queen size bed with its royal blue covers and white comforter was his throne. From here he reigned/rained/reined over his dominions, taking mental inventory of his kingdoms and his queens. He was the rainman and it was raining. He would do nothing today for he had made the rain and that was enough. © 2005 big box industries Thursday, February 17, 2005
While not for everyone, I have come up with something that is kind of phun. I have started to take snaps while I am driving my car around, I call it zoom zooming.  In truth it’s probably a good idea to let someone else drive while you are having all the photo phun.  I have this thing for big trucks, kings of the highway. I want to work on getting some truck shots at night with all the lights dancing and everything.  © 2005 big box industries I can’t be positive but I think the little golden finch up in the tree is Howard. Trudy, Howard’s partner in crime, and Howard were one of the first couples to hang out at our house last year when we first moved in. They have been very faithful and are outside almost every day. Of course we do feed them regularly.  It came as a surprise to me but golden finches love thistle. Go to the garden store and get yourself a thistle bag. If there are any golden finches within fifty miles of your bag they are going to find it and start being a regular around your place. © 2005 big box industries Tuesday, February 15, 2005
It is Valentine’s Day and I am very thankful. She is always good to me, perhaps too good, and of course I love it.  For ever and always, I for she and she for I. And this for always I do proclaim – Watch after and protect Little One, watch and protect, Little One. This is my job and this is what I do best. © 2005 big box industries Saturday, February 12, 2005
But you don't know what it is Do you, Mister Jones?” I have a little chipmunk that hangs out in my backyard. He kind of came with the house and has been my friend for over a year. He is a very frisky little guy and is usually always on the move, but this morning I caught him just hanging getting a little sun sugar.  Since we have been together for a while I have given this little guy a name – Mr. Jones. I say that the reason I call him Mr. Jones is that I live in Georgia, and the Atlanta Braves have a player – Chipper Jones, but actually that would be a canard, a ruse, a fabrication. The moniker of the munk is more geeky than that. It’s a tribute to one of the more nefarious members of The Bob Club. And you go watch the geek Who immediately walks up to you When he hears you speak And says, "How does it feel To be such a freak?" And you say, "Impossible" As he hands you a bone Because something is happening here But you don't know what it is Do you, Mister Jones?” © 2005 big box industries Thursday, February 10, 2005
Many times when I first awaken I sense that I will feel like I do then for the rest of the day. Of course that is impossible for each of us is hands to hold things, feet to move, and mind to remember why we do what we do – the interaction of the senses and the environment – the delta – the change.  And then there is the warm light of the low morning sun, east, there and then not, east of Eden. For just a moment it is perfect and then to other moments of the day. © 2005 big box industries Wednesday, February 09, 2005
I was bored to the bone last night, apartment fever. My skin yearned to feel the scratch of the night. I needed some stars and moon and swirling black with beckonings from the shadows. And just maybe if I was lucky, some golden locks to caress, some hair to run my fingers through. It was about 8:45 pm est, and my stomach was growling because I had been such a, hadn't fixed dinner yet, slacker. Part of me probably knew when I woke up in the morning, or that afternoon when I did the mall at lunch, or waiting at a red light on the way home, or the moment I slide the key in the lock after a hard day at work - but at that moment I was clueless. All that was hitting on my synapses was that I was, like a wolf, hungry, and needed to spread my wings and stretch my legs, and get my ass out of the apartment. I took my shoes off, then my shirt and ditched it on the floor, and finally - they'll have to come off sir if you want to do it right - one leg at a time, I took my pants off and chucked them on a heap of jeans and causal slacks, that was growing on the sofa. Heading in the right direction but still several states away. Tori Amos - Strange Little Girls - still wanted some dizzy, so I popped her in the little Sony CD player and kicked the volume up about half way, as I went to see what was cooking in the frig. Eureka! I still had about half of a 1.75 litre bottle of Finlandia Vodka ($24.99) slowing down in the freezer. The crest for the Dia is 3 reindeer with a big red dot over the antlers. I call going down, bucking up.  With a lucky Vegas shot glass in hand, I, pow! pow! pow!, bucked up a bit. I was aiming for the prefrontal lobe. My 3 shot pattern was a little scattered, left of center, but when you are shooting buck, God cuts you some slack. I could tell you about taking a shower, and getting dressed, and chilling a bit more with the roe, and dancing with Tori to Heart of Au - but I thought I just did that. I am a strong, May 20th, creature of habit. I was going to play it safe and head to Whiskers, my little neighborhood bar, for some wings and night stuff. But the moment I opened the door, I felt the magic of the night and the need to be elsewhere. Perhaps the neighbors wouldn't understand. Perhaps no one would. Not even the many I's that dwelt inside had it all together. Not until much, much, later would it occur to me that I was hunting for something different, maybe even a little strange. With the crickets baying at the half moon, I did a boogie check to make sure I had my wallet, cigarettes, and lighter, turned the key, and vanished into the thrill of the night.  Well, vanished isn't exactly right, I had to drive. But I had one of the best de's ever, Talk Is Cheap - Keith Richards, coming out of my speakers, and with a little fancy right foot work - gas, brake, gas - and a few lefts and rights, I found myself about 15 miles away at Dugan's, another quaint and curious, neighborhood bar. But not my, "Yeah, I have seen him around.", neighborhood bar. It was early Monday night, and I wasn't expecting a crowd, but I could tell from the cars in the parking lot, that I wasn't the only one feeling the itch. I was a little disappointed though when I sailed in, all couples and groups, no strays. But I was already there and still, like a wolf, hungry. I took a seat at an isolated area of the bar. I ordered 10 wings medium, a vodka shooter, and a Rolling Rock with a frosted mug. The chick behind the bar brought the rock and the shot. I lit a cigarette and waited for the foul. It was only a little before 10 and people were still meandering in - a couple, two unrelated guys, another couple, two chicks, another guy, two more couples, and then there she was, perhaps an angel. Well perhaps the angel of another. On an scale of 1-10, she was a high 5 or a low six. She was maybe 35, 5'4, and a little overweight. She was casually dressed - jeans, tank top, and sandals. But the thing that got me was her hair. She was a blond and she had her hair pulled back in a big floppy bun - "With perfumed hair, that came undone." But the thing that made the 10-7 split, was that she smiled, came right over to where I was holding reign, and said, "Hi, my name is Leah. Is anyone sitting next to you?" I am not going to bore you with all the details of how cool I was, or that I bought - all the guys dig Leah because she knows onomatopoeia - several drinks, and shared my fair with her, and complimented Lee a hundred times on her hair, and made her laugh, and how I was going to pay the check with a credit card but somehow ended up using cash, or how I said, "Do you mine if we go to your place?" Now a woman is a creature of many surprises. Instead of being put off by my suggesting that we go to her place, Leah was relieved. She told me she liked me and everything, but she was a little worried and she would actually feel much safer with all her things and stuff and knowing where she was in the morning. And then she gave me a hot hug. I don't even think she even considered that we would probably trash her place and she would have to clean up the phun after I split. I followed Leah home. She only lived about 2 miles from Dugan's. She had a neat, 2 bedroom apartment, and her roommate was elsewhere. Leah told me to sit on the sofa. Then she put on some bitch in heat, lit a candle and some incense, and then went into the kitchen. Lickety split, she was back with some chilled chardonnay and the perfect pear. Did we have phun?? Sure we did. The whole thing got started with me undoing Leah's bun, running my fingers through her hair over and over again, then pulling her beautiful blond hair to the side, taking a slurp of the wine, and squeezing some of the sweet, sticky, pear juice on her neck. We did it on the sofa, and in the kitchen, and we finally ended up in the room with a bed in it. Everything is still cool and I think I will get away with it. I have before. But on the advice of council, I have been advised not to go into too much detail here. Lee and I did make a mess and had lots of phun. Shortly after, she fell fast asleep, I didn't. I went into the kitchen looking for a distraction and I spied some scissors. I went back to see how my little princess was doing with her beautiful, beautiful, hair. Just a snip, she will never miss it. But once I started, I just couldn't stop. It was too perfect. Before I had finished, I had already filled up half of a Kroger sack. I wanted to shave the stubble but I was afraid that I would disturb my princess as she sweetly slumbered. Some discoveries are best made alone.  I haven't gone back to Dugan's or seen Leah since the scalping, but I have thought about her a million times. I wonder how she took it? She probably woke up the next morning feeling a little different, you know, lighter and fresh. She probably attributed this to, bless her heart, me. And then perhaps she went to scratch her head and that is probably when the panic first started to set in, must have been a rush. One hand, then two, trembling, shaking, freaking out. And then stumbling to the - mirror, mirror, on the wall - who is the baldest of them all? Blood curdling came next, a scream, and then a gushing of fast hot tears down both cheeks, sobbing. When I think about Leah and our time together, I always feel a little bit bad. I should have left a note, "If you don't like the new do, you can always wear a wig." PS - Yeah, I know you wanted to see a pix of the bald headed chick and everything. It would certainly be a top 10 for me if I had it. But I violated the first principle of a gonzo photographer. I left my camera at home. © 2005 big box industries Sunday, February 06, 2005
I am such a slacker. I have had my preliminary tax numbers done for about 2 weeks. All I have had to do is fill out/in the tax forms and mail them in/out. And yes I am getting money back. Actually I am getting a lot of money back. I am using a new tax preparation software package called Butt Fucked. This is my first year using Fucked and I love it. According to my calculations, Uncle Sam owes me $24 trillion dollars, and I just took the standard deduction. Not only do you get a lot of money back when you use Fucked, but BF guarantees that you will only have to do your taxes once. Butt Fucked guarantees that after submitting just one return using their state of the art software, you will never ever have to submit another tax return again. More money and less hassle. I love it. © 2005 big box industries Friday, February 04, 2005
There are 12 but now we conjure only one. And within this sphere there is much magick. When I came home yesterday afternoon and got out of my car, there it was waiting, waiting just for me. Actually it was waiting for anyone who would have come by and snatched it, but then again one must remember at all times that God does love me. Anyway, I made it into the subdivision yesterday afternoon. Pulled up the steep drive. Pushed the remote control to open the garage door. Parked the car. Got out of the car and walked down the steep drive to fetch the mail and bring the garbage container on wheels back up to the garage. ( Yes, this time I remembered it was garbage day.) And as I was doing a hundred million things at once, looking around, walking up the drive, holding the mail in one hand and pulling the garbage on wheels container up the steep drive with the other hand, and thinking how cool I was and such, it was then that I saw it, it was then that I saw the package that was waiting to the right on the outside of the open garage door, it was then that I saw the brown box waiting just for me. A surprise would have been nice but I knew in a few nanoseconds exactly what was in the brown parcel waiting on the ground outside of the open garage door. I had been waiting a little, where the fuck is that package, apprehensively for the last couple of days. But now my little treat was here before me and I was content and pleased. I picked up the brown package that had been waiting for me patiently to the right, just outside the opened garage door, and with the other bits and pieces of my day, stuff, I like a pig, greedily, with both hands, clutching the booty of the day, made my way up, up the stairs from the garage into the dining room. There on the brown teak table I dropped this and that, but gently placed with care the brown package that had been there just for me outside on the pavement to the right of my opened garage door, with care gently, near an angel.  I am a strange brew, for as is my wont, I did not open the brown parcel immediately. I already knew and so why? And as was their wont they would wait, wait patiently. There is a time for each, and its time would come. But this morning, just to see my pretties again, I with scissors acquiesced. And there they were, the focus of my beckonings, just as I had desired, one for me, and one for you, and many for all the rest.  Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.”  And from high, strung above the welter near a star, she reigned (reign,rain,rein - a trip) without a flutter, shedding her grace and blessing freely on the happy kingdom below.  © 2005 big box industries Thursday, February 03, 2005
When I think of lots and lots, and very goopy, cheese, of course I dwell on everyone’s big time fav – pizza. When I was just a tyke the family primarily resided abroad and I have no recollection of gooey and goopy cheese, no recollection of what God reserves for his favorites, no recollection of pizza. To remember now my first bite of pizza, it must have been bliss.  However, once I hit college there was always Dominoes. Bless their hearts they even took bad checks. Today my fav is Digiorno’s. You can pay $15- $20 and get pizza out that might be ok or you can do $4 - $6 at home and get a good pie every time. I have been eating for over 53 years and have just come up with a new twist on reheated pizza. I kind of suspect that everyone has known this except me. Reheated pizza with mustard is GTG – good to go.  © 2005 big box industries
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