I've Mostly Moved

yep... faithful readers...

{hahaha who does he think he's kidding?}

my particular brand of reality is now simply a part
of the granduer available for dissemination at..

Lewd Cognoscenti

of course if you've surfed here from there, these could be considered
the archives... such as they are, and I'll probably be updating this beast
sporadically

or so I hope...

peace,
finite jester

clutter

every once in awhile i just think that something that i've written
is actually decent...
this is one of those moments...
of course if you are here.... you are probably worse off then i am...
i mean fer fuck's sake...
i may have written it...
but you're attempting to read the shit...

my grandfather was resurrected today,

in all manner of momentarily, a whole string of instants

he stood behind me as i stared at the tangible remnant

of my firmest memory of that old man

the night before i had been out late, making an ass out of myself in a circle of people composed primarily of those whom i know in too many ways to quickly explain, there was a bottle of mescal making slow rotations and i had a drum in my lap; i'm certain that i sang, perhaps even well enough to frighten away the less foolish people whom i did not know

i remember cracking walnuts

in the closely cluttered atmosphere of that barn

i remember the oil that would be pressed out

onto a dusty floor

so far as i am able to report, my grandfather had only one use for that aged vice on the oft repaired table just inside the barn, for all i ever knew, the only function of that tool was to crack all these black walnuts which littered the ground

a cousin of mine today,

cigarette in one hand - beer in the other

during a conversation 'bout them ol' boys

living on the fringe

carting about scrap metal,

of which grandpa's barn had yielded quite a pile

to be collected and exchanged for currency;

told me he was up there laughing at us,

because we wound up having to deal with all his shit -

i got home at two a.m. and having had the benefit of not needing to drive, i was out there - out there to the point where i do believe i quoted from finnegan's wake, and i know the period of time that involved my transport home was really just an impressionistic blur of neon wars somehow waged against all these beautiful people that i am so blessed to know

i showed up

about fifteen minutes past the time

which had been told to me

i showed up

hung-over as hell

and i found that a congregation -

of what i can only term honest folk,

ol' boys from the church who've bought my grandparents land

already had an amazing amount of the barn cleaned out

fifth wheel;

damn -

another revelation regarding the situation where; given a society that could actually embrace the human as the human wishes to be, the joke is that;

given that ideal society . . .

i would not be

(something of a specialized sequence of lines right there [i most especially hope that my father understands how i can write that, feel that, understand that, and smile at that . . . in my own odd way] the rest of you can cope) and yet here i am . . .

i showed up -

(employ your own

suitable rhymes

and reasons)

it's odd, my grandfather,

i remember feeling like such an outcast at his funeral

i remember that the entire experience of his death -

the fact of being able to watch (from what i felt to be a position of detatchment)

this unwieldy, never fully understood,

concept of family go through grief -

inspired me

to the first story

i would still dare to call literary . . .

(laughing as i label it)

and i never knew the man

who ultimately had inspired it -

which was part of the story, yet i knew that more then ever today,

as i wandered around casting a covetous eye across the piles

of detritus -

which today, in all manner of moments,

resurrected my grandfather

and i saw him clearer

than i ever had

standing in front of that vice

with the half-shell of a black walnut

sitting behind the toolbox,

having pawed through the relics of things

which meant mostly nothing to me

i listened to my aunts and uncles,

cousins and such,

speak about objects and how they link -

well no; not quite

but as the truckloads flew out of the loft

and the piles that had been pushed out in haste

were picked at and plundered,

i thought i saw how it all works

yes, that again - the night before i'd staggered away into the darkness; drink having sunk into the drunk . . . and needing egress; and what with it being the sort of place where you can actually see stars, i stepped into the cold world that exists when the winds are strong and the hour is late;

it can be dreadful away from the fire

when i turned back and looked

when i started walking -

returning to warmth;

it can be a beautiful thing

oh no... have i forgotten that i'm supposed to be carving out archives

yep... right here on the ol' blogger...
gotta find space to be brilliant
gotta find time for the fingers
to begin their intoxicating/ed
dance across the keyboard
as world-dream experience time begins it's
trance of dancing with me...

bah~!!
i d'not care what ya
silly fuckas think of me

excepting when i do...
like now
when i turned from the flow of
alcoholic debauchery
to post
this
stupidity

testing.....

test test test

bugada boo!!

holy crap I cleaned my apartment!!!

Free-Time On My Hands

Classes for this semester are now over, and a stretch of time where I don't have any papers that I have to write, nothing I have to read, and I don't know what to do with myself.

Plans are currently as follows:

Read a couple of books; currently working on Pynchons V for the second time. I read it for the first time a goodly number of years ago, think I'll enjoy it even more this time.

Write a couple of odd little notions that have been bugging my brain; namely a defense of blogging as a means of stimulating creativity and some sort of discourse on internet pornography as it relates to human sexuality and the ongoing repression of all things related. I mean despite all the little starlets we've got running around in various states of undress the american mind-set is still far more comfortable with decapitations than naked bodies.

I'd also like to clean my apartment.. (probably not going to happen in any-way but a half-assed one.

And finally, celebrate the holiday season with the consumption of every alcoholic beverage that comes within reach of my grubby little hands.

Happy Holidays!!!

finite jester

on a search for words
words words words
ways to wrap this wound
that i can't find words for...


god that's horrible...
just thought i'd share...

had a poetic impulse a moment ago, but it fell apart when it tried to go to paper, so i says to myself, ach.. just write something stupid for the blog... and that's it.. wow.. i really shouldn't post that