A.G.E's Joint

Two glasses in On the last day of the year. Listening to my son and his friends Laughing in the other room. Echoing back to another day Another time When it was me as the entertainer Or the entertained. Not that it matters Doing the same thing over And expecting a different result Is still insanity. The guardian angel aghast At the proceedings of the night. Seeing things through the alcohol lens Instead of as they are or were. Now, thirty years later It is my son's turn To chase illusions And hope they become real.  So before the last leaves fall And the glass ball drops  I wonder at where I am And where I will be. 

Dark night in Treme Joe came into the bar Black sheep of his family He'd float down this far. Voodoo Priestess saw him Shaggy dog mane came down Slid down the stool to greet him And give him the night on the town Joe did not know what to do With this tall dark rail. With eyes widening He looked for a way to bail She wasn't having none of that There was something she needed With long lost words, whispered slowly The recalcitrant spirit heeded. Shooting through the dank Esplanade Down to Jackson Square As they hurried forth Passerby gaped at the mismatched pair. Soon, a house they came to Another incantation said They embraced violently  And another spell read When it was done, the Priestess laughed At the sight she had wrought Sagittarius in the flesh And Joe hopelessly caught. 

It was an unusually warm Christmas Eve at my Uncle Archie's house.  My family had driven to Savannah from Orlando with a car load of "Santa" gifts. I was 10, and had pretty much figured Santa for a ruse, but I really didn't want to let go of the fantasy.  It took away from my parents fighting again and my Dad had lost his job.  There wasn't a partridge in the pear tree for us, just ravens in the live oaks along the dock. The launch of Apollo 8 was on the morning we left, so we delayed our start to see it. The cartoons that touted and mocked the inventions of the future were about to come true.  All the scoffing about lunar travel and it’s impossibility silenced for all time.   Our house was 40 miles west of the launch pad and the schoolyard at the end of the street made viewing launches easy. We could see the glint off the fantastical machine as the craft vectored away from shore.  When the dot made 15 degrees over t...

So, the challenge from Group Blogging is the Anti Bucket List?  The stuff you wouldn't do for love or money?  That is a challenge.  I have always been one to take a dare and do stuff I normally wouldn't.  but that said there are a few things I just can not see doing. 1) Jumping out of a perfectly good, flying airplane.  Sorry, folks. Unless there is a REALLY ugly Drill Sergeant with an M-4 at my back, I ain't doing it.  You can talk all you want about rushes and how pretty the scenery looks... 2) Likewise, jumping off high fixed objects.  Now, I actually used to jump off cliffs and stuff into a river, but I'm older now.  That sweet zone just doesn't look that big. 3) Drink Gin.  Gasoline tastes better. 4) Ride a motorcycle in traffic. Sorry, too many idiots to ride anywhere within 100 yards of a car. 5) Buy a house larger than 2500 square feet. All I need is a roof over my head, not a monument to my ego. Most of the houses construct...

Interesting choice of topic this week.  " From Just Beyond ".  At church this week, we did Lessons and Carols.  In the Anglican tradition, the back story of the coming of Chirst is told through Old and New Testament scripture, alternating with appropriate hymms and carols of the season. Towards the end of the sequence is the story of Mary the Virgin.  There is little information about her lineage, although we know that Joseph was a descendant of the house of David.  We can assume that she was from a more humble clan.  Indeed, scripture indicates she was nothing more than a young woman, probably acting in a servant role in the village. Her marriage was an arraigned affair, to become formalized at the next harvest. On a dark night in the early spring , Light broke where no sun shone , and an unknown caller came up with the ultimate pick up line: "Greetings, favored one." Yeah. She had her doubts. What would everyone say?  It wouldn't take a genius t...

"Starbucks.  The art of socializing alone." Jared said out loud. Eyes slid his way and then back to what they were doing. He didn't care anymore what these rude people thought.  Shifting in the soft leather chair, he   looked  on the darkening sidewalk.  Was she coming? The eyes lost some focus.  New York wasn't Birmingham, for sure. He wondered why he'd left it behind. Oh, the job with ad agency was alright and it was kind of cool to have a bunch of stuff in walking distance. But people here were more interested in climbing the ladder and chasing money stacks than socializing. They tended to scatter like rats when the illusion was interrupted. Energy wasted in Jared's opinion.  You can't take it with you. There few people at the office he felt comfortable with. Melanie was one of them. The thought of her red curls and crinkly eyes make him feel a little warmer. He really didn't know her that well. But she was friendly and that served her well as ...

In a dream I was a bird A sad, lonely mourning pigeon On a flowering gargoyle Fearing beauty  All was ugliness to me. Eyes closed to the light Only grey I see Rain off the branches Running down my back Every day was just black. Picture: "One Lonely Bird"  (c) 2012 http://widdendream.deviantart.com/. Joy is Sorrow's negative Fears go with dreams.  That is your lesson for the day.  

Steam whistled brightly from the tea pot next to the window. Just another fine day at home. A wrinkled hand slips over the handle, while it's partner turns off the gas.  Tea and Scones gets made at 3:00pm. The tin is fetched from the ancient F&M hamper someone had given to them at the hospital. No one knew who had left it, but it came home with her. It was a talisman to the time of no wheelchair. Another iteration in the circular dance. Unknowing eyes stare as the ball drops in the pot. The crockery creamer with a carrot motif sits on the tray unused.  Lips more aware than their owner open as the spoon approaches. Her eyes soften and smile while his dart almost imperceptibly.  Nothing is tracked or timed in this waltz. Sip and nibble interrupted by dabs from the napkin. His lips curl into a half smile as she cleans up the dishes. Goodbyes said, he nods and fades away.  __________________________________________________________________________________...

This transcript fragment is  from the case of  James F Durante vs. Kidsongs Inc ( A Limited Liability Company) in Superior Court in and for the County of Los Angeles, CA., Santa Monica Division. It was supposedly found while doing a routine archive check of the Court's file room in advance of some plumbing renovations.  In the case files, it is stated Mr. Durante is suing Kidssongs over copyright violations of his signature song "Inka Dinka Do".    The fragment picks up with Mr. Durante, having finished his testimony stating the song "Skidamarink" (A.K.A. Rinka a dink a doo)  borrowed, nay stole the tune from his song and that the lyrics were similar enough to cause confusion.  Greg Bautzer, representing Kidsongs, is beginning his cross examination.  Mr. Bautzer: "Now, Mr. Durante, you stated you became aware of this supposed infringement in 1956, is that correct?" Mr. Durante: "Yes, and it was shockin', I tell ya.  I mean, to have da...

I promise I'm not copying Tyler. I was thinking up this post this morning while trying to link my work computer to a new server. Several tries later, I was wishing my coffee was whiskey. But, I persevered and did get up and running.  As most of you know, I left my old job in State Government a little over a year ago and am now working in private industry.  Specifically, I am on contract with the largest pension services provider working on one of their largest accounts.  This is best described as a cavalcade of folly .  After a parade acquisitions and divestitures, there are 22 separate pension plans with to deal with. The total number of plan permutations that regularly happen is around 5000. Like every good workhorse, there aren't enough chrysanthemums in the world that could make the parade route smell good.  But, mums really don't smell. They just look pretty and propagate like wildflowers in my front flower bed.  Kind of like the pension plans ...

Everything around him turned yellow briefly, as if the sun was used as a camera flash. His head hit the floor as his gut rumbled with the sound of the FlashBang. He kept hold of the trigger.  "They really think they have me?" He thought briefly as he backed into the corner opposite the door. "Just like them to rush in without checking first" The smoke thinned slightly, as flames licked up from the clothes on the floor.  The SWAT officers were approaching the house with the ram. Come on up a little closer...a little closer...What they were saying was just gibberish to his ringing ears. BAM! Do that one more time. BAM! Just once more. BAM! And Jeremy pushed the switch.

Fifteen years. Five cities. Five zygotes Spawned from reflex vibrations Of two people Running from demons Sisters as stair steps Brothers as afterthoughts Glued together somehow In the nomadic quest Of comfort and security Trying to assuage thirst That can't be quenched The zygotes grew And rode the breeze Lives very different From each other. Scattered across North America Offspring scattered further And yet, still connected By the familial bond.

Staring at the screen, the writer ponders what to do.  They need three thirty word stories by Thursday. Are they crazy? The espresso cup is picked up. With a sip, he starts. The harvest moon is setting behind the ridge, larger than when it rose. Billy rises on his elbow and looks down on her profile. Soft bosom rises and falls in anticipation.  Her lips open slightly as they approach. With a sigh, Sarah's life begins. The paces quickens. What was that noise? Looking back to see, she doesn't see the curb.  The driver doesn't see her. And each other's memories are frozen in time. 

Holly came from Miami, F.L.A. Hitch-hiked her way across the U.S.A. Plucked her eyebrows on the way Shaved her legs and then he was a she She says, "Hey, babe Take a walk on the wild side" She said, "Hey, honey Take a walk on the wild side"   Lou Reed, 1972 Before I was married, I was club kid.  From the mid 1970's through most of the 1980's, I could be found at various music venues in Atlanta and Athens. 40 Watt, Little Five Points Pub and Agora Ballroom dictated my schedule with both up and coming and national acts. I was always looking for the next best sound.   Because I was also fooling around on College radio, I occasionally got to meet the musicians and get a feel for where they were coming from and where they were going.   During this time I had a friend, Steven.  A gentle soul, he was the first truly Gay person I spent any significant time with. He was the brother of a girl a bunch of us used to date.  We accepted hi...

Here we are Alone. Meeting after so many years Why so long? I speak to my friends In this new-fangled online market, I have not set foot here in years It's a lonely, lovely place, I know. Children scattered To the four winds. Not knowing whether  they are alive. Now I come to see you A Sphinx. Not sure why. Maybe to bask in the silence Of the relatives I never knew, And the few I did.   Austen said To look upon verdure was the greatest refreshment. But the oaks and moss Only remind me  Of past time wasted, Time was supposed to explain. Ain't no use complainin' Time to move on.

Hey, Heidy and Howdy!   It’s your randy, dandy old time D.J. Harry Handy.   I'm looking at all you lovely GILF's populating my dreams. Today’s program is truly special for my geriatric group. I know you’ve been keeping with the Miley Cyrus thing?   Actually, I haven’t.   But whole affair centers around her cavorting nekkid across stages with various props and actors.   Kind of like this. Actually, the subject is the lack of respect we old people get from the youngsters out in the world.   They say we are out of touch and irrelevant.   WHERE have we heard those words before?   Why out of our own mouths when we were that age and younger.   And we were LOUD!! And we said the very same things to our parents and grandparents.   Don’t trust anyone over 30.   Give peace a chance! War is wrong! Well that still is the case, but I digress.   Respect for yourself and others has taken a nosedive in this in...

The book was on the table, almost even with his eyes. It had an old, cracked binding and no front cover.  Parchment leaves shaded from beige to sienna exposed like he was.   It seemed to shimmer and float, like a magic scroll or talisman. A meaning of a dream, maybe? Dream? Yes. Had to be. Mark tried reach for it, but his arm was pinned under her ribs.  Morning sunilluminated the room, showing their naked forms tossed amongst the sheets. Arms and legs gave like sacks of flour against whatever surface they touched, whether the mattress or each others legs. Not a pretty sight, but who was he to talk? He leaned over and kissed the top of the pale shoulder, drinking in the mix of sweat and Chanel.  It had been so long...  Red and green neon had always taunted as he walked to home from work Blinking "chicken" in light displays in front of him.  He finally gave in and stepped in the bar.  Inside, it looked like a clubroom. Red leather bar, wi...

In the Memphis homicide of Ronald Duck, Sullens and Brick are about to interview their primary suspect, Age, also known as Christopher Mitchell, after he was picked up begging on the street. "Mr. Mitchell?  I'm Sgt Sullens and this is my colleague, Sgt Brick.  How are you today." "Fine.  You look familiar.  Aren't you on that show...what is it?  First Something?" "You've heard of us?  Good, then you know what we are about." "You guys hunt killers.  But, I'm not one of those." "Really?  Anyway, we are investigating the death of a man on Beale St. yesterday and your name has come up in the investigation.  We'd like to hear what you were doing, say about 8:00PM." "I'm homeless, so I was just hanging around the Orpheum singing the blues and hustling money." "I thought you drove a taxi? What happened with that?" "Got fired from that gig a couple of weeks ago. Boss didn...