Dam it Ryan!

here it is

The Elephant in the Room

This is the elephant I just finished painting in Zora's room. Sorry, Kevin, Owen and M'zee, (the tortoise and hippo) will have to wait. We're moving next year so I decided to paint them then.
Allicia is doing beautifully. We had a gestational diabetes scare, but everything is A-Ok. Love y'all!

Nine Years

"The best of times are the thoughtless kind."
---John Cale

Volcanism Explained

'da Bears . . .

Dream (Introduction, for starters)

7/14/2002

“My dreams have come back, very strange dreams. There was one I love to go back to, almost too long to put down here really but one I should remember, very pointed. The stalker. The murderer saying ‘I see you, I know you’ and has since I was a kid. Nancy and Colette were searching my house in San Jose so as to make sure it met regulations. I left to go get mom and a bite to eat at the café in my other dream about the end of the world. My cell phone rang, it was a 12-year-old Steve, old and young at the same time who said he was home and heard a loud crash and was scared. Another crash and the phone cut off. I looked at my mother. She knew. She turned into an owl and flew out the window. ‘Here it goes’ I thought, panicked. Immediately a package arrived at my table. I opened it up to find pictures, collages really. Remember when Steve made that one with a girl holding her breath under water only it was me, a kid, terrified and drowning in a sinister comic way. Very funny. And disturbing, I thought. Who did this? The next page, me in Jamaica with snide comments written around me. Pictures of me that I haven’t seen in years all with dark overtones (deadly) and certainly spelling out my doom, although I found it somewhat amusing. He, it was definitely a ‘He’, was getting closer, had been there all along, watching, collecting pictures. I was sorry for having done it. Done what I don’t know. I felt responsible and scared and ready to confront it all at once. ‘This will be fine once I get this taken care of,’ I felt. ‘Old news, why is he still following me? Lets take care of it once and for all.’ Little kid pictures, how weak he must be. It means nothing. A minor annoyance. A comic jibe. I was concerned for my family’s safety and then I woke up, heart racing.”

And the Sods . . . .

Field, or Stream, none of us are getting any younger . . .

Two Fun

This is completely nuts and comes up when you Google "Hizzerone". For more ranting by goodness knows who or what, take off the "/Vloid.html" and go to www.perrylogan.com. It is. . .difficult to describe.

And this would be amazing.

Criminal

"The report cites a state Department of Public Safety and Correctional Services report that 21,721 African-Americans [sic] in Baltimore were arrested but not charged between April 2004 and March 2005. Grand jurors said this number shows that 'countless people ... have been harassed.'"

Two Fun

Got two fun links (well one really) today. The first one from el jefe, lest I forget how totally screwed I got. All I need are 6 more numbers to fill in the blanks of the social security number that she playfully? only gave me the first three digits of (wtf, dude). If anyone is good at factorials (jefe) I'm curious to know how many possible combinations I would have to come up with to get the rest of it.

The other one was from Steve-O. Who would have thought Nick Cave would be coming out with a movie and that Steve-O would be the first to mention it? The website makes it look pretty daaang cool. Though I hear in Australia "Only weeerdos listen to him". Can't go wrong with Emily Watts.

My soundtrack was old before I was, but hadn't seemed as far away as it does now. I was falling asleep the other night listening to the VU's "Oh, Sweet Nuthin!", and I thought of how when my daughter has reached an age when she might desire to listen to something like that the album, the whole VU catalogue in fact, will be more than 50 years old! Lou Reed will be dead, and she'll listen to "The Black Angel's Death Song" with awe of the ancient sounds in the same way I did back in 91 when I first began listening to Folkways recordings of Woody and Leadbelly. At the time I felt like I was lsitening to something archaic and dusty, breathed by the Depression...How will the sounds that brought me joy, and provided the background hum through more than half my existence sound in the ears of one who was born so late?

5

He helped her to the bathroom and before he could turn and shut the door she dropped her pants and sat down on the toilet. He walked out and shut the door behind him and went back to his bedroom and undressed to his t-shirt and boxers and climbed in bed. When twenty minutes went by and he hadn’t heard from her he got up and knocked on the door of the bathroom. She had been asleep but didn’t want him to know and so she forced “Just a minute” out of her mouth, cleaned herself up and opened the door. She stood in the doorway in only her t-shirt and underwear and he helped her to the bedroom and under the covers of the bed.

Once he got beneath the covers she rolled towards him and began to kiss him. “Fuck me,” she said through her closed mouth only he had no intentions of doing so. He pushed her off of him and told her to go to sleep, that she would thank him in the morning. She rolled over and turned her back to him, dejected, almost as if in anger and in 30 seconds he asked her if she was awake. She didn’t answer and he lay staring at the back of her head. “We’ll both feel good about ourselves in the morning,” he thought to himself and wondered who she was.

At the foot of the bed he heard his dog move, it’s elbows bumped on the hardwood floor and his tags made a faint clinking noise. All he heard after that was her stilted breathing before he fell asleep himself.

4

He heard her Jeep door shut and the engine start before she pulled away and he stared up at the ceiling. He’d never known silence could grow so loud. He heard the dog take in a deep breath and let it back out, shift it’s position on the hardwood floor and move it’s tongue in out of his mouth two or three times. Tonight, he thought, I’ll sleep on the couch. There was a subtle language he’d learned to speak without saying anything.

He went to the bathroom to take a shower and while he undressed he looked in the mirror at himself. “This body, this skin,” he thought as he looked at himself, the son of a catholic priest and nun. He remembered back to the night he met her. Sitting at the bar with his friend he had noticed her at the table behind him. He’d heard her laugh where she was sitting with her friend and he turned around a looked at her. Their eyes connected and she looked away quickly and kept talking to her friend without so much as an acknowledgement. His friend saw him look at her and stood up and went to her table. His friend asked her if he could sit down and it wasn’t long before the four of them were sitting together talking and sharing drinks. She bought everyone shots twice in a row and it looked like she could hold her own until ten minutes passed and she was having trouble keeping her head up.

The bar was closing and the two ladies were leaving and she began to insist to her friend that she was going home with him. Her friend, by this time, had learned that she would not be able to convince her otherwise and asked him if he’d minded. Who were these people, he asked himself. What sort of friend was this of hers? He assured her friend that she would be ok and gave her his phone number and took hers just in case. He helped her to his car and began to drive home. She tried to talk to him and only kept repeating herself, something about what kind of man was he? Some question about his manhood that he just ignored because he wasn’t sure what she was asking and he wasn’t sure of the answer.

He helped her up the steps to his apartment and walked her inside and sat her down on the bed, sat down next to her, and took her jacket and shoes off. She stood up and fell against the nearest wall and asked him through her closed mouth where the bathroom was. She was going to need his help and in that moment he knew what kind of man he was and he stood up.