I’m a free spirit. Fuh ree. A joyous vapor that swirls like a dervish. I like to play like a child. I like to run real fast and hardly look back. I’m a jumper and a climber, a wild animal trapped inside a crazy Homo sapien. I live pretty hard and this body o’ mine is only good for one life and no matter how much living I try to crush into this one shot, the pain of injury totally brings me down. I feel like a prisoner, unable to motorbike around or run around the block, truly tied to the pavement of the earth, tethered to the ground unable to laugh.
Picnics are the best. Even when it’s a solo venture to eat someplace divine and serene, away from furniture and awash with sunshine.
On the other hand, the sandwich would be even more savory if it were enjoyed in the company of a girl foolish enough to share a moment with such a mental boy.
Bouquet of sharpened pencils, for a teacher or a lover, stuffed in foam on cardboard paper or right in your face, the heat and vapor of this bourbon resting in a snifter burns my face like gasoline and stings like neatly arranged lead.
BFF as opposed to GFE, better to stay calm and let the world turn for the best.
Some woman drove her car through Salmon Street Springs, plowed through the concrete sea wall and plunged into the Willamette river. They decided she did it on purpose.
When people are kicking a hackey-sack around and hula hooping, it’s hard to take their cause seriously. Occupy that.
I’m thankful that when I’m entertaining guests that I’m the one usually acting the most foolish and accidentally knocking things over.
Being rakish is something that should come without effort.
There is something terribly disturbing when a child gets needlessly snapped at.
Bands who do a cover song should deviate from the original in such a way that it takes the listener a moment to actually realize it’s a song they already know.
Sometimes I close my eyes when passing a woman on the street and enjoy their fragrance without any other distractions.
Gender arguments aside, chivalry is losing its art and air of importance and it’s unfortunate. Doors should be opened and ladies should be tended to and protected, monkeys.
The presents of a woman should be her presence to begin with.
Lulls in mood swings sometimes explode into great lapses of judgment. They also provide the clarity needed to laugh about all the little stuff that don’t mean nothin’ anyhow.
Milk chocolate bars, sweet potato chips, hours of football and over-produced Hollywood movies cranked as loud as the walls can handle, this sweet and weary body just spent three days in a blur of hiding out and saving dividends. Dodging streetwise savages and perfumed women of inebriation by holing up and battening down. Or more accurately, battening up while glazing my donut eyes over 72 hours of big screen television. Even if the bag of M&M’s is pushed over to the far corner of the table, it will inevitably be pilfered by my deviant fingers. Pastries, I love you. Dirty baked goods infiltrate my prurient inclinations. Peanut butter, caramel, nougat, I’m bound by evil while devouring my vile secrets behind drawn blinds, feeding my gnawing face-hole with decadent poisons until I weep with glee and shame. Crammed every piece of junk food not bolted down deep into my gullet until my stomach sat rotting and bloated with sugar, butter, sweet cream and animal fat. Wallowing in horrible splendor, I realized that living for a moment without visible restraint or apparent self-respect sometimes affords unexpected and delicious rewards.
3 days to wander off the radar and throw discipline over the ledge is a beautiful way to burn a weekend.
Oh my vices! Devilish devices! Senseless in a crisis! Feed my voracity with dirty audacity and drown my throat like Dionysus.
Bore me out with all the desire my soul can hold. Until it overflows my ears, eyes and nose and I’m nothing but a vessel possessed with the fiend of a ghost, striving to satiate a hunger I stoke.
Once my seams near bursting I recant all the cursing that’s led to this night’s nursing of my wily character and the weakness of its workings.
A gentle revelation opens up my flesh and fury turning this here hunger into clear and nascent theories, making certain my hedonistic head relishes in discovery.
Introspection doesn’t come easy for some. Takes balance. “Mourn them do not. Attachment leads to jealousy. Search your feelings. Anger, fear, aggression, the dark side are they.”
My grin truly is from ear to shining ear.
I could totally hug someone right now.