Bury Me Like Crazy Horse

Evolution of Haiku

2011-05-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

In Big Bear

Forecast wind by moving treetops

In Buckeye

Forecast planes by their distant lights

What the Fuck Am I Doing Here?

2011-02-21T20:15:00.000-08:00

This is the first somewhat successful product of my Cremina: a heart... pursued by a sperm. Bubbly and shit, but whatever.

Mike Tyson!

2011-02-21T20:02:00.000-08:00

“I used to think nobody liked me and nobody wanted to help me,” Tyson said. “No. People were waiting for me to do the right thing. Once you help yourself, people will help you. That’s just how it goes, and I found out late. People are just waiting for you to change so they can participate in cultivating your life. Or, they’re waiting for you to kill yourself and watch you self-destruct.

“And what I finally learned is that people say, ‘So, what are we going to do? I’m not going to help you self-destruct. If you’re self-destructive, I’m going to stay away. But once I see you are trying to cultivate your life and change and throw away those bad habits, I’ll get involved in your life and try to help. Other than that, I’m not involved.’ “

-Mike Tyson

"What Comes After Happily Never After?"

2009-12-06T10:12:00.000-08:00

Daniel Pruitt makes
Me want to drink gasoline.
He makes my stomach churn
With that which he has
Set his whole heart on:
To take that unnatural/darkness and
Cover even night with it.
Yes, the man who
Face-fucked me with
His fist while wearing
Blue bib overalls has dreams.
In his dream,
We will all follow into
The righteousness that is
Invented in him.
And no one will ask
Him to turn his
Stereo down.

Facebook: a new fucking gimmick for life (or, I haven't said the F-word in a while)

2009-08-02T10:34:00.000-07:00

Well, it's not so new anymore...only to those who have not.

Moving on. I received a Pell grant for my "studies" in education--nice. However, it really means that I don't feel so bad if I drop the whole education career, letting my wife win the bread and honey for a while, with me being a stay-at-home dad and cool-as-shit motherfucker {good thing the latter needn't any qualifications other than what I give it--fuck you [I've been working on my self-esteem (I guess only a few of you will actually find out how that's going)]}.

"You want me?

Well, fucking then come and get me."

Selfish

2009-07-20T09:33:00.000-07:00

I don't know how many times I've posted that title, but I think of it almost every time I post. I just sold a bike with a tattoo in mind. Now I've got other things in there: Frances' birthday present, gift for my wife, donating it, or groceries (which then makes me think of what booze I would buy, since that's about all the groceries I shop for).
I've wanted this tattoo for a while (not the coy banana fish that some of you may well know from my earlier threats). I'm alone. I am alone along the shape of my body.
Love,
Paul
Post Script:
If you haven't heard about this, then give it a click (since that's about as much as we relate these days):
http://stereogum.com/archives/new-thom-yorke---all-for-the-best-stereogum-premie_079431.html

as unpoetic but yet

2009-07-05T22:16:00.000-07:00

I've been playing guitar with by brother Jimmy lately. He has been in such a situation that has brought his presence to our home much more often. It is good for my soul.
A tool box for a kick stand, cracked symbols and blood on the snare. If not spirit, then what then?

What then bitch?

"Bolder financial workers leaned out their office windows Wednesday, taunting demonstrators and waving 10 pound notes at them."

2009-04-01T09:35:00.000-07:00

Foggy Pennsylvania

2009-02-10T08:05:00.001-08:00

If Pennsylvania was Buckeye, Az.

I was driving Pop J's big truck in the fog when I happened upon another big truck on the road, which had a very large sticker on the back window that read: FUCK SCOTTSDALE. That made me smile, not because I agree (though I probably do, with Scottsdale not in the least privileged, rather every other person who puts there weight in something other than spirit), but because it helped me remember how much I like to say the word Fuck, as timidly as I do, yet in a much different connotation. That bra-han looked straight at me, look as straight as his lips as straight as the bill of his FAMOUS hat, and gave me a nod like we eat the same shit for breakfast everyday--feeling mother fuckers like me. I smiled and gave him twiddle fingers. The word has been so silent on my lips.

There has been a lot of silence on my mountain-shaped lips. It gets lonely sipping coffee (among other things) by myself. I stopped brushing my teeth in the mornings--the taste of coffee is too good of company to part with sometimes. It is a knife for the blandness of my day.

I've been trying to write creatively lately, but nothing can knife that dullness of life I try to express. There aren't many that would see the beauty I try to convey, but hopefully, hopefully. Anyway, it's good practice for becoming a better writer, and reassuring myself that I still exist--in pain of lacking, existing all the more.

Well...all is well?

2009-01-06T19:43:00.001-08:00

Frances. Self Portrait

"But in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears."

We went to Las Vegas to visit Rosie and grandma Young. "Cancer runs in my family dear," my grandma Young tells. Aside from that, she is content with her dog Hershey and canasta.
In Kingman, Az, we visited my grandma Chapman, who refuses to accept earth and time. She still drives. She quivered, "I'm looking more like my mother all the time." This means she remembers my great-grandma Bratton as an old withered lady with dementia, rather than a beautiful lady who loved literature and painted-she used to give me frozen grapes while I looked at her bells and paintings. My grandma Chapman has her bells now, but their tolling has become dull.
A hard trip in some ways, but Rosies company did us well.

2009-01-06T19:35:00.000-08:00

Fuck It

2008-10-30T22:03:00.001-07:00

This is my last post.

Palin can stuff her patriotism in her bra: Biden can stuff it in his crotch

2008-10-02T18:10:00.000-07:00

We are watching the debate. PBS is broadcasting in High Definition. We can look at their make-up and know which one to pick due to the exorbitant amount of detail that has been wasted on such an aesthetically grotesque program. Yum.

Hard Core #7

2008-09-13T15:44:00.000-07:00

She is not happy about it, but she needs to wear it for 2 hours a day to strengthen the use of her left eye. I look pretty shit-faced. Man, that shit is hard to wear.

Bury Me Like Crazy Horse

2008-09-07T11:24:00.000-07:00

Bury me like Crazy Horse:

Unearthable peaks will be my headstone--peaks unmoved

by faith or manifest destiny.

The untouchable sky will be my epitaph--renewed

each day with unwavering vigour.

Unknown to corruption.

Under natural earth.

In Gods true name.

My wife would want me to be doing my fafsa right now, but she also wants me to wear a helmet in a state where you don't have to. It's a completely respectable request--however, it's one of the few things I have to be hardcore in the White Tanks.

Here is a list of hardcore things to do here:

1. play guitar through a blaring amp by yourself

2. drink wine, beer, or Wild Turkey by yourself, or occasionally while talking to a friend on the phone

3. drink black, black coffee by yourself, or occasionally with you wife

4. ride without a helmet

5. get slammed in the face by the fist of Daniel Pruitt

6. Practice your fly fishing cast in the front yard

It has nothing to do with style, as many have so accused me of concerning. In fact, it doesn't have anything to do with being hardcore--it just is.

More Spiritual than your Average Banter

2008-09-01T17:45:00.000-07:00

"He turned to appease the fierce longings of his heart before which everything else was idle and alien. He cared little that he was in mortal sin, that his life had grown to be a tissue of subterfuge and falsehood. Beside the savage desire within him to realize the enormities which he brooded on nothing was sacred."
-considering Stephen Dedalus

"Here's to swimmin' with bow-legged women"

2008-08-24T09:29:00.000-07:00

Sorry to break my streak of titles with the F-word, but I couldn't pass up that quote. CK knows, but can anyone else recall that film? It's interesting that such a movie which criticizes the very ills that interrupt it intermittently makes it to television. I guess those big dicks know that it'll do no harm to those mindless numbers of viewers.
I had a good conversation with a great friend last night about commercials. I've watched too much television since the Olympics began. There's nothing like a short quip of debauchery to keep what sucks fresh in your mind. What is it that sucks? We describe how we love products more than how we love anything else.

fucking demise

2008-08-06T20:34:00.000-07:00

Go to this link:
http://video.yahoo.com/network/100063489?v=3213448&l=100063517
A proverbial slit of the wrist. This S-L-U-T-S won enough money to pay off both me and my wives loans. God bless his hard work and super skill.

"bat fuck loco"

2008-06-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

An expression my friend used to describe Daniel Johnston and all his worried woes and holding-ons. We went to see Joan of Arc play at the Modified Arts in downtown Phoenix.

I found myself looking on and not feeling anything but the floor bend beneath us, and all those others whose weight was there looked like they wanted to be feeling everything.

The whole experience was so frail, and I had fumbly hands and a shattering cackle.

It's hot out, I work, unbend my back and rest sorely. I want to throw a rock at most everyone I see driving by.

Love,

Paul

NIPS!

2008-03-28T20:52:00.000-07:00

don't make it easier or nicer, make it greater/The Old Man in the Sea has caught fish before, but none of the previous ones have mattered

2008-03-28T20:12:00.000-07:00

This is the house we lived next to. It's the house my wife's dad grew up in, it's also the house she grew up in. They are going to build a house that satisfies the property lines. It was completely gone in five hours.

I've worked the entire two week period of spring break. I tutored the first week, and moved bricks, cut a crap load of wood, and painted the second week. Wednesday was riding night with Jimmy downtown. It was more of a tease than anything.

This guy at this coffee bar asks me about my bike everytime I go in there, he also gives me free coffee and pastries. He talks a little fast and drags out the last word of sentences of four or more words with a gradual rise in pitch: "do you ride with a break?" "No, I don't." What kind of skids do you do? I've been doing these short skids but they've been hurting my knees. So what kind of skids do you do?" "Whatever keeps me out of trouble." "Yeah, right." He hands me my free espresso and I go outside and nose into my journal so as to avoid any other bike talk. He's a nice guy about it all though. When some girl told him the cream was out, he responded: "nobody cares asshole," and handed me my free espresso.

He has a bianchi pista with every possible modification. I've never ridden on a new set of tires. I ride fixed because it's the simplist form of something and it makes you do things that can sharpen your bones. I skid whichever way will keep my ass in the saddle and off someones car. Whatever style point you can pull out of that, put 'em back.

"Ace of Spades, Clubs, Queens and Jacks"

2008-02-26T17:33:00.000-08:00

It gets lonely by the White Tanks, as beautiful as they are. I imagine talking with them sometimes, puting my ideas to their peaks. They will change too, though.

I told the library assistant that I was getting rid of my TV today and she r/ejaculated: "why would you do that?" "Because it's fucking hideous sitting in our living room." "I just don't know what I'd do without law and order reruns. Are you one of those people who cannot have their foods touching?!" "Shut up."

There is no existence in elementary education for me--it takes some different kind of individual that's into control and forced learning. There's no room for an individual, they'll ruin your job history otherwise.

"With the we are number ones."

Centurion

2008-02-11T12:52:00.001-08:00

the ethics of how memory works

2008-01-31T20:08:00.000-08:00

All I could think of was Joan of Arc, and I kept chuckling to my self as I drove home listening to the tale end of an npr program about scientists controlling the intensity of memories that are recalled...or some shit like that.

I think they said they could first provoke the recall of the memory, then control the intensity of the emotioinal effect of the individual. That is all besides the point--the real thing to talk about is the fact that scientists are advancing in the area of "should this shit really be tampered with?" Of course, so I remember them mentioning, this has something to do with getting people's weight under control--at least that was what they were researching when they stummbled upon this new "big toy" of the ethical playground of today.

On one end of this, as a friend of mine says, "life is pain". The reporter mentioned something about someday using this advancement in helping those who have had experiences with memories too unbearable to survive them. It is good to help. There are the extreme cases where it is easy to say: "they need this". But, like the 2/3rds of this Earth, darkness obscures.
The people of the capitalist system will do well to exploit the medicine-meant-well, and we will throw this into the bin of "crap the presidential candidates can argue over". Like plastic surgery, hormonal drugs, and all the other well intended medical advances, the susceptibility of this to abuse by those in the shadows of imprudence, as well as those who are filthy with money, is already apparent--I can imagine it in their dreams, and then not in their dreams: another injection to escape reality.

"Life is pain." Life is experience and is nothing without pain, among other things.

What is it that draws me to find necessity in relating to the rest of humanity, past and present? (The question of what is necessary to relate to past humanity is more difficult.) Experience is what bonds us to the rest of humanity. The links we have to all humanity--before and possibly after (if it is feasable)--are becoming fewer more rapidly. The link to the humanity of Christ is drifting somewhere, though some say that God and religion are the only tools you need to remedy your mind. Others say: deal with it.

Perhaps we are widening our experience of freedom by adding more possibilities of choice. However, the reality of not having to deal with what is dealt puts us in an estranged category that I am too unfamiliar with to have any emotion about...much like worrying about alien life.

When it rains, I get this done.

2008-01-27T15:03:00.000-08:00

Well, I thought I was over this crap--but when the white tanks are eaten by grey and rain wets everything, the old habbits come back.

My mind feels like it's going to explode, so I don't think this will be much more than a flash of a face in a crowd.

I've been listening to the British Sea Power: the Decline of the British Sea Power, Friend/Enemy (side b especially), and Joan of Arc: A Portable Model Of. They all give me a sense of something homemade, like babies or experience.

This is my brother Jimmy. We have a pretty good time together. He is wearing Franny's tutu on his head.

Baptist Camp equals get laid.

2007-04-29T08:41:00.000-07:00

The outer shell was God/seeker, the inner was all making/out. All of those poor girls really thought I was praising God next to them.

It hangs deep in his robes, a delicate
clapper at the center of a bell.
It moves when he moves, a ghostly fish in a
halo of silver seaweed, the hair
swaying in the dark and the heat -- and at night
while his eyes sleep, it stands up
in praise of God.
-Sharon Olds

I cannot do this.
This was a pretty depressing reflection, but only because I was so fake. I should have seen through the Sundayschool lessons about Baptist Camp that told me to be ashamed of wanting to kiss and touch there. I am the one who--instead of changing--facaded my way to their lips.
Love,
Paul

Post Script:
The explosions in the sky show was glorious. Ther were a lot of interesting souls there. Thinking about the bouncers--how they laugh at the silly kids and there silly music--and how they are necessary for these things to happen. We coexist/ed. There were a lot of sappy girls there, flowers in hair to match the ones on their silly dresses. A few Indian guys were carying pitchers of amber colored beer around and tried to get past the mohawked female tattooed bouncer, but she wouldn't allow it.
I'm in the process of redishing the rear wheel of my bike. Since we survive a dirt road and desert terrain, I have a chance to really take shit apart, including my almost inner city soul.

Death as follows....so it goes.

2007-04-13T08:42:00.000-07:00

He thought the human race was pretty silly, but nothing is sillier than time travel. He also thought of the semicolon as a hermaphrodite. Way to slay, Vonnegut. At least he was saved from suicide.

We are moving to a house this weekend. Chubby knobbies will win over slick skinnies at this loci.

My soul has been dormant for a while. They say that's what Arizona standardized testing does to sixth grade teachers. There's an explosions in the sky show on the 26th--it's a start. (I'll honor Vonnegut by abstaning from hermaphroditic tendancies.)

there's no such thing--do what we can.

2007-03-20T09:17:00.000-07:00

"The women of Ravenna kiss
Rarely and deep, they kiss back.
And all they know about life is that
We all have to die."
Hermann Hesse, Ravenna (2)

Spring Break, mother visit, and unravelled. Awkward. Thus. Thus.

the day after yesterday

2007-02-13T06:42:00.000-08:00

When space is our philosophy, we lose everything we are.
"Like an ancient astronaut."

Love loves to love love.

2006-12-13T14:06:00.000-08:00

These tall, thin cells absorb much of the sunlight that enters the leaf. In these cells are many chloroplasts that a plant needs to make sugar. The veins of a leaf contain its xylem and phloem. Water and minerals enter the leaf through the xylem.
I just loaded up some music on my school issued Ibook, and getting ready to shoulder in to second quarter grades.

Project Winter Slay...

2006-12-04T14:22:00.000-08:00

Oh, yes. I am pretty excited about this winter break, as long as the gumption sustains. I'm planning to convince my brother-in-law that gore-core metal can't slay as mutch as we could if we were in a winter band project. If he turns me down, I may have to sustain the project solo style--instrumental may be as far as it gets. If anyone would like to make a guest appearance, get that cock out.

"...violated by existence from behind."

2006-11-18T10:02:00.000-08:00

The next break is what I work for. I'm getting pretty sick of it. I really want to get a tattoo right now to make me feel and isolate me from my progression as of late.
Love,
The Will

A quesadilla and 3, 4, 5 ,6 Beers

2006-11-06T17:19:00.000-08:00

Sorry, but at 25, I still complain about my parents. That's ok, Tim Kinsella's mom breast-fead him 'till he was 4.
Joe-3cm, just before deffication. Again, sorry...and sorry. I went to see Make Believe last night with one Joseph Mains, and two: Matt Fahy. It's always is good to seeee them. Sam stood still so he could play with an intense face. Tim told tales-tenaciously traversed Twain's talents, too. Tim asked: Does anyone have anything to say? All the lovers could come up with was: I love everything that comes out of your penis and your ass. I will finish six beers to hold true to the title. Fuckabees.
Love,
Paul

"Anyway, I'm sort of glad they've got the atomic bomb invented.

2006-11-02T05:39:00.000-08:00

"If there's ever another war, I'm going to sit right the hell on top of it. I'll volunteer for it, I swear to God I will." -Holden Caufield, Catcher in the Rye.
We had two tricker treaters. Given the lack of creativity that was probably used to compile their costumes, I should have given them toothpaste, or something to the likes. Franny cries, and I have to get ready for other people's children.
Love,
Paul

Popeye Eyes and Squinty Skies

2006-10-29T14:53:00.000-08:00

I always hope it goes smooth when I do number two, but when you hope in the context of terds it always comes out stinky. Our plumbing isn't doing so good right now as it is, and a tonka-dunk just throws another wrench in it.
The week after the fall break was pretty depressing. I spent a lot of time with friends and was getting pretty used to seeing Frances during the day so much.
I have a "formal observation" on Monday, so I better get crackin'.

Quiet Please

2006-10-24T12:14:00.000-07:00

With taco sause on my school issued cheeseburger, and a roomfull of lunch-detention regulars, I will say it over and over again. We've formed this comfortably awquard relationship, viz., me laughing at their jokes when I'm not supposed to. And, I let them say "crap" freely. Lunch is over...

Like GODSPELL was for Jesus

2006-10-04T13:11:00.000-07:00

I'm waiting for my next parent to walk in and have a pow wow about their bright urchins conduct. Sixth graders are sly...they are sneaking little slys. Most will deny every ill accusation to the bare bones. And, they like MANGA (working at Borders has earned me that little bit of info about current styles in literature). Man, and they think they are the COOLEST.
Along with beanie babies and soap novels, manga is the smelly fart of psuedo culture. I fart a lot too, though; this is my only creative expression that's going down right now. Parent walking in....

the science of sixth grade

2006-09-17T18:18:00.000-07:00

The education of Avondale Elementary School disctrict just got a little feistier-I am now an emergency certified educator. I've actually been in this class since school kicked off this year, but only as a long-term substitute. Although, an emergency certified teacher is just three steps up the fake teacher ladder from long-term sub.
Sorry for such a lame post, but not much has been going on...other than Frances being freaking cute and shit. there are more pictures at: www.flickr.com/photos/franfranny/.

Doomed Terd

2006-09-01T19:05:00.000-07:00

I remember when I was five: there was a Payless my family frequented for nutcrackers and such things- the same payless that I would thieve a hotweels car from three years later. I had waited until poop was peaking out of my sphincter to tell my dad that I needed to go. Walking up the yellowish hallway to the toilets we all know about in Payless, a terd dropped and my dad picked it up with his solitary, calllllused hand and carried it to it's doom.
I can't wait for those moments.
Frances Elliot Chapman: 7lbs. and some change, 20 inches long. Born to squallor August 28th, 2006, 4:43 am.

Put on your gumption

2006-08-01T11:00:00.000-07:00

I'm about 100 pages or so from the end of Ulysses. The last 23 of those leafs are as periodless as a tight testical school boy. I need to hit it harder if I want to stick to my goal of finishing before baby girl Chapman is birthed, which is closer than I think, I feel. In the words of my father-in-law, Papa Jim, "Oh, help me wizzard."

the light becometh dark

2006-07-24T15:48:00.000-07:00

clouds have been rolling in, and rolling back out again.