Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

thinking about an old geezer dispatcher who was the last person I would talk to before going to bed, I was thousands of miles from home and he would say "sleep tight"

My Mother did that but she added, "don't let the bed bug's bite."

Always left me wondering which dream to dream to keep those damn bugs away.

and i have a friend
who would say
enjoy the dark.

keep a
candle
on.

enjoy the dark.

yes hello darkness my old friend

eastern and caroline when the cars would pass their headlights cast moving paralellagrams of light across the walls of our bed room, jitterbug and I would play a game called raining, where a bed was a boat and gifts toys wonderful things would rain down on us, but for some reason we had to race those lights across the walls, tumbling over and over to get back to the head of the bed.

you probably didn't need to know that, just a ramble
don't mean nothing, for some reason I hear the voice of Vincent Price saying "Pleasant Dreams"

I hear Bela Lugosi
saying, "Good evening!"
then turning into a bat
and flying off towards
the mountains.................

the daughters of time, watching Tucker Carlson, blonde woman of a certain age, I have no idea fifty maybe sixty, a black dresss a necklace of something that looked expensive, well tailored, beautiful, her face reminded me of a painting at the Hishorn of a little girl in white who had the face of an old woman, I mean her face was timeless I think she would always look the same, I thought it was called Girl In White, I have never been able to find it. Not even sure how to spell Hirshorn
.
http://smilingjacky.com/burghers.htm That woman in handy andy must have been at least a hundred pounds over weight, her belly the victim of children and gravity, her hair silver white, her face still good, and she was the cashier, the woman on Tucker Carlson man she looked good to me, thinking about my parterner in crime back at the truck stop in Virginia where we both worked, she about three years older then me maybe sixty five at the time, I was still just a kid of sixty two, when I told the boys she looked good to me they laughed and sneered, she was abreast cancer surviour and god she was fit, i i droped a nickle she was down and up with it before I could even begin to bend. she danced every week end

what the hell am i talking about
Time,
kind of like a melody
"Imagine God listening in on a performance. God eternally hears all notes simultaneously. But this is not a melody, but a massive chord (or dischord!) Hence God, not being capable of temporal experience, could never have the experience of hearing a tune (not even Gregorian chant.)/color]"
http://www.ucs.mun.ca/~davidt/TimeHsrl.html

I hear Bela Lugosi
saying, "Good evening!"
then turning into a bat
and flying off towards
the mountains.................

I always used to say pleasant dreams to my baby sister when I tucked her in, but tonight I just thought of Bela and Boris and the boys.

what dreams she had of crazy mike
I think I am getting macabre, not negative, thinking about Eichman In Jeruselam Hanah Arendt's line about the banality of evil. We live in such an age of mass distraction, we can't deal with the banal, we need supernatural evil.

Philosophers : Hanah Arendt
... Passing up the name philosopher until later in life, Arendt went by ... book, entitled
Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality and Evil(1964) addressed ...
http://www.trincoll.edu/depts/phil/phil ... rendt.html - 7k -

vision rt. 29 truckstop
south of warrenton va.
lil gurl tappin' on the
window, "hey mista do
ya wanna roll in the hay?"

Just before dropping down into san Francisco or was it Sacramento, my mind is a joke, there was a nasty little truck stop with a dirt lot and a cafe, I watched the sickest looking woman I have ever seen go from truck to truck; cb antennas would rock and then she would go on to the next truck.. I never got food poisoning from the cafe, and she never got in my truck. I think I must be under sexed. , I picked up women in distress, one was standing on the side of the road north of Dallas on rte seventy five. In the August Texas sun you could burn your feet on the black top and , she was barefoot. She had a little girl her daughter about two or three. She needed a ride back to OK and her husband. They had an argument and she had run away, I gave her my sneakers and all the money I could spare. I used to give a lot of money away, the Viet nam vet or so he said, he had the hat anyway, bitching and moaning about his fucking dispatcher leaving him stranded I gave him forty bucks, women would come out of the darkness like the one in far left Texas, scared and needing a ride, I tried to discourage them but never could say no, the woman in Wichita with the most beautiful black hair I have ever seen, so thick, later I learned she was born in south america a cute Indian baby who was adopted by missionaries and brought back to the states, i only heard her side of the story but reminded me of people who bring home puppies and grow tired of them when they grow up

shit wireman, I been thinking about Brooklyn's remark about wanting to give the reader a good ride
I think i forgot to punctuate,
oh well
still just a kid giving it all away

I went back and tried to punctuate it amigo, even got brave and used a semi colon.

"hey mista do
ya wanna roll in the hay?"

"Mister would you please give me a ride?"
sometimes I would pick up strange women, but i didnot feel very romaticaly attracted to them, but you know how men are, I still questoned my motives, putting my livelyhood on the line for a complete strange, well she was scared looked about fourteen said she was eighteen I deleted the post about that, I tried to drop her off in fort stockton but she spooked and faded back into the night, I had to stick around and wait for the cops
I am not sure if she was trying to seduce me to take her on in to san antone, but I was not going out of route two hundred miles, like I said I am under sexed, that road running a long the Mexican border around lake falcon and on into Langtry of the hanging judge fame named of lili langtry is not the best place for anyone to be stranded, talk about darkness,

13 hours no net
jam her
almost desperate
peeling k's from the wall
digging for z's
no words
no contact
no ink

sudden blurt
NET!
jam her
reels from real
to real her

welcome home, i say

morning maniac music in san antone, too late to sleep got to go pick up sambo, he of the "tented pants" and the pregnant girl friend, meanwhile the oblivious pleasure of editing my scribblings, how stupid how selfish can the young be, why can't they be like we were perfect in every way
bye bye birdy

speaking of the young one last edit
tented pants learned or bennie

how many poets does it take
to smith & wesson a jam?

double G's roll the floor
p's and 's
watch your step

a jam of this sort has never been
and with luck will never be
(one-of-a-kind!)

poets are worse then having a musician for a friend

yes happiness is a warm gun

If I was a poet I would prefer a knife

past a point of no return here

on a wing and a prayer, that's the trouble with Smith and Wesson, they jam, if I remember correctly surfer mike met G-d and G-d had a Colt 45. and I was the guy screaming in the heat frying his brains because he was too afraid to take his helmet off. good night sweet prince where ever you are./////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

home-made jam
strawberry or prune
leave your uzi out to dry
in this no-shoot zone

jam on toast
runny eggs &
sausage, snow
on the way, the
markets ablaze,
Zaar dog barking
away, the birds
singing their multi-
level song............