the_ocean_of_the_pavement () (advance the ripple stood weighing the solid wave know no open sewer run and cloud burst haven through swim, the atmospheric cracks rend as they always will solid, the attack is still control in windward sail in frost and bleaching pale sun do river trash prevail no log jam flotsam does digress and dust cloud sweeping avail not waiting on cracked incline not wilting on frozen plain not surfaced in reckless time over no lost oil slick do remain and stops) 050102 ... () (stood wave run through cracks will still sail sun prevail digress avail incline plain time remain stops) 050103 ... oldephebe *steeples fingers under glaze of chin stubble and subtly nods his assent* 050104 ... Mister Brightside while the rain was falling, my street was a feeder stream torrents of brackish water obscuring the blacktop on their way to the nearest of the faraway storm drains in the first hours, you could see the rainbow slick of old oil that had run off of people's driveways and had seeped up from the layer of residue that coats the streets between storms... eventually, with the next rain only the remaining drifts of all the loose dust that time piles up like the slowest of snowdrifts was coloring the runoff. the long-dry river, just a stone's throw south of the house, churned up it's dusty sandy bottom and resumed it's course toward another dry river, the Gila, on it's way back to the Sea of Cortez. the clouds were wild and temperamental, the sky on the western horizon was pitch-black against the sunset while the clouds on the opposite side glowed strangely, spitting lightning and hail on the other side of town crazy gray-green clouds formed the first twists of tornados around colder edges of the city, but lacked the heat to build up enough momentum by morning the sky was back to the same endless pale blue that i've generally become bored with. 050105 ... () (!!!) 050105 ... () (no. in water black and long dark sink no person lies untouched sound. over watered fields and sunken rows no answer cries unheard often. birds call dirges sea listens mutely no way to hide unremembered and flowers bloom and all is past and children cry and stops) 050112 ... () (no. black sink lies untouched sound. fields rows cries unheard often. dirges mutely hide unremembered bloom past cry stops) 050112 ... Me? im just a little too dramatic Go man GO! you too Mr. Brightside. god you guys "carry the cloud" like nobody's business. you make melancholy or nihilism and bleakness sound almost intoxicating..that is if you're into that kind of sepulcral splendor kind of thing ... 050611 ... z done silted on the dry bed floor no last run stretch to the sea all sunken have the waters gone in eons do they dream i swim in dust clouds bourne to the ends down river thirsty in my eye on stone cracked bed i find myself the fishes bones dried thin wasteland withered heath is wide often crumbled dust it bleeds into hands cracked and dried i filter history's disease no willful wind will pick me up and wash the windward sands away no ocean of the pavement dream can soak back tide mark memories and stops 050612 ... oldephebe O man. Z. A triumph. Ah to sit in the furrows of anothers dreampangs and almost ineffable worldache. The geological evocations and metaphorical carraige are especially apt. APT! I say. Each one putting thier own sweet spin on either a kinda of kafkaespque meets Cheever with a helping of one or two of the 80's and 90's gilded uber scribes of sepulcral effulgence. Nihilism can be ineffable at times, insoluble and rudely incapable of being known except by the heart that feels it's own unique note as it sings like a shell shocked nightingale out of its hearts rotted hollow. It's like trying to throw hand fulls of hot water to someone else. So you say is THIS the only medium? Was I ever open and hopeful? Did I ever want the naked narrow world to know the secret pangs of my own shameful gushing heart? Weare connected by the interstices of language, the comunicability of core postmodern depletedness...er values..by simply referring to a well known episode of a once popular and or widely viewed TV show. For us...for me this has become the semblance of affinity. The detritus of a world, of a myraid contexts of blithely sadistic encounters plastered pro-forma into the corpus of TV entertainment has found its' way into the folds and the creases of our backs, our necks, our 2nd and 3rd chins, our distressingly increased flaccid and cellulitic derma. You say.."I don't want to feel THAT worlds nearness, it's closeness it's depravity and deranged ferocity to it's mangled mores and norms pressing in upon me." So you write a few lines of depressed doggeral to mute the mouth of mayhem barking at them in thier brain. God the there is a reek and a mold and a pungency of pathos that can't be blithely eschewed by the placing of the Man's hand under your shirt as if you were a rag filled with cotton with horse hair stapled to your head and animated like a mannequin under the thrall the absolute thralldom of its' marrionet - but he never lifts the mask so you can breath. ... 050612 ... words and rhythms Pavements may teem with intense energy But the city is calm in this violent sea Neil Peart 050612 ... . 050612 ... z "...a rag filled with cotton with horsehair stapled to your head..." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! images. beauty. thank you. 050613 ... oE 'ts all good Z 050613 ... unhinged it was the worst blizzard i'd ever witnessed in my life. the store i work at closed. the city stopped the buses. in a city where people are used to snow, most things stopped. he was sleeping on my couch from the night before. we decided it was a perfect day to get high and laze around. we went out to a friend's house and watched movies. on the way home, when the snow count totalled about 18 inches (in one day), after he shovelled out his car because the snow had blown in drifts up to the windows, we drove down the winter war torn streets. it was like a frozen ocean everywhere you looked. he guided the ship of his old buick through the plowed waves. 'let's drive around' and i turned and someone was in their yard taking pictures of the snow. and this winter i was sleeping on his couch during the heaviest snowfall of the year. but his girlfriend was there too and work wasn't closed. it wasn't the same. 090307 what's it to you? who go blather from