A.G.E's Joint

  So much stuff Collecting dust Celebrate as A collection. Piles in groups, And heaps. And leaps In my mind Can I run away From the detritus Around my space And simplify? Chances are I'll be 99 miles From L.A. Ignoring the sage advice.

The text comes in just as he comes in the store: "Working until 6." Damn it. He's early and she's late again. You would think he'd get used to it. Or she would quit agreeing to work over. Lord knows what the fuss would be if it were her waiting on him. Might as well get a cup of coffee and pick up a pizza. Won’t be time for much anything else for supper.    As he approached the Starbucks stand, a chubby woman with wild curly hair and stained leggings stood at the counter. Another lost soul needing a shower to occupy his time. She asked repeatedly the difference between a Grande and Venti. Great. Her conversation seemed not so much with the Barista than with herself. Maybe they are sampling over in the cheese department. Better than waiting for this moron finish.   As he crossed over the aisle, he stopped to look at a rather large wine display. The manager had a sense of humor, putting "Menage a Trois" next to "Middle Sister". A bottl...

“Sanity is a madness put to good uses.” -George Santayana Sanity and Insanity, Joy and Sorrow, Two sides of a coin. One lost without the other. But what is heads Or tails? Didn’t fit in Something deeper? Made a supplication to Hertha so man would experience childbirth? We should be fitter Healthier More productive Slower and more calculated No chance of escape. Air guitar solo Imitation climax Nothing accomplished Nothing gained Everything is show. ````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` Topic (Insanity is)- Sallon Newlove Pic- Brian Dewald Pic Guesses-Air Guitar (in blog) solo (in blog), imitation climax (in blog), simulated, burlesque rock, CC, Do me,

“Some things never change. “   I-85 might as well be a parking lot, the traffic was so heavy.   Filtered brown sunlight wormed through the gap between the visors. Using a gesture than looked liked a condemned man reaching for supplication, he mad a vain attempt to block it out.  The outline of the pickup truck ahead barely registered as it slipped forward. He dutifully followed the herd as the light slipped back behind a warehouse.  Generic heavy metal music boomed from the radio. Some group he never heard of, Texas Hippie something .  The lead singer kept screaming for the listener to “turn it up”.   No. he thought. Noise attracts attention, especially when the songs were about preacher girls turning into strippers.   The concept was amusing, though. Evil Galloway’s demon daughter dancing on the pole brought a smile.   He could imagine the look of fire, then ice across his bearded wrinkled countenance. The one set in perpetual rage ...

Bright sun shone in his eyes as Jeremy finished his meal.   Caffeine rushing through his veins, Jeremy waited in line to pay for the meal. Various rednecks and farmers joked with Tubby and the Big Man as each completed food order landed on the spike. Murray’s order and life will be on that spike soon enough.   He turned his head away so no one could see his face.   A small woman with blue and orange hair was feeding bills to the jukebox.   She was the illustration of anti “happily ever after”; silver eye shadow and black mascara had melted to clumps on the oval face. Large black dots smudged at the corners of her eyes,she was a broken bedtime story .   The music choices matched her mood.  “How can you mend a broken heart? How can you stop the rain from coming down…” Jeremy's mind drifted a bit. Sarah used to play that song.  Then mother would come in and turn it off, flinging a switch across her legs. Sinful it was, thinking about a b...

Images flashed in and out of his vision, Mother and then the policemen.   He wasn’t completely sure if he was awake or in one of his nightmares. Scenes in sepia tones, like an old photograph. Mother in her high collared blouse, dour and lifeless as a dead rose.   Jackson is across the room pounding on the table Murray pulls his hair and they are both laughing. Pigs enjoy humiliation.   The ground began   to rotate like a mechanical stage and a new point of view began.    Murray is approaching an area with crime scene tape around it. Jackson hails him over to a pile sitting on the sidewalk.   There is an old car just before the area. Jeremy waits as he gets closer and closer…. An acute pain broke through the dream, a stray sunbeam reflecting off the table knife and directly in the left eye.   Moaning, he raises his hand to block the intrusion. His head is leaden.   Jacking the chin up with his right hand, he is vaguely aware of the a...

Jeremy had about the same amount of luck finding the lock on the door as he did the car. Steadying himself on the door frame, the key was willed in and turned.   He stumbled over the mail. “I get mail, therefore I am, ” seemed to come from the darkness. He didn’t say that, must have been one of the voices.   They get restless like that when he hasn’t slept.   Moving across the room by instinct, he missed the small sofa and coffee table.   He found his way into the kitchen and turned on the light.   The institutional white walls hurt his eyes.   A few molded dishes were still in their places from when he left this morning.   Prescription bottles are lined up like toy soldiers on the kitchen counter, waiting to be played with. He couldn’t remember when he took them last. He didn’t care. It was another way to tweak the noses of the controlling pigs, just don’t play their mind control games. A small clock radio sat next to bottles. The sca...