music and other life stories

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ouch.

(This entry was deleted by author but will be reposted after the demonstraters cease throwing Crayola markers and refried beans at my apartment and someone gives me 120 bucks.)

Optimistism

"The Honeymoon's not the same without you, but I'm remaining optimistic."

Please Mind Your Stupid Manners

ew beginnings and old beginnings and new endings and the beginning of the end.

Where has the time gone?

I was asked by this lady who had been chatting at me for some time while I smoked a Kool 100 and was mindful of my manners.

The woman stepped closer to me, her hair and clothes smelled like fresh detergent and then had a sudden tainting aerosal paint.

She asked again, "Where has the time gone." She said it in the form of a sentence, which was wasteful of words first, and was wasteful of my clinging droplets of sanity, those last chemicals where dry for the week - my week used up the whole package.

I asked her why she asked so many rhetorical questions and then immediately shoved my fingers to my lips and hushed her. I wondered it she had ever seen "Harold and Maude" or if she would co-sign on a T-bird convertible with me.

I wondered why everything was okay. I wondered if everything was okay right before it all went wrong. I wondered it everything was wrong before it went all right.

ALL right.

I could never seem to save myself from myself. I know this to be true. I have sought help, performed research, experimented, collapsed, rinsed and repeated. Polyconversely, I had to save something at this point, and as a result finding no safety, I didn't. 

I continued doing this until about an hour ago when I was ending another beginning of a song - a song I tweaked with since I wrote it last summer - but I found a thread of electricity, not warm or shocking; my mind steadily eased....

Here is a little anecdote to break up the whole self-discovery trip:

Kansas Black

   When mom slapped Mrs. Quarterhouse across the face in our new sun-room, even I knew the fact that my mother having Albinism was beside the point. But by this point, all the local buzz was beside the point, the point was clearly unknown, even worse - it was clearly inexistent.

   Mrs. Quarterhouse looked at the ceiling fan and a grin cricked across her maroon face. Mom and I looked up at the ceiling fan, too; so it seemed. That is when she told me that Mrs. Quarterhouse had broken the wall down while I noticed a point was about to be made to ME and I grabbed Mrs. Quarterhorse's purse and my Mom's car keys, and I locked their wheelchairs together with two twist ties.

My name is Kansas Black.

I am an Alibino-American and I am on the run.

Chapter II

By the time I woke up from my nap, the honeymoon was most certainly over.

This is a test. This is only a test.

This isn't the real thing. In the event of the actual real thing, we would not call this a test.