Favorite recent search terms

Here are some search terms people used to find this place this week.

mexican goat face - You can just call me meg.

braws off - Another product of ‘no child left behind’, I presume…

do aliens eat humans - It’s an awfully long drive for a wiggly pink snacky.

horny panda porn - They aren’t very horny. Pandas, that is.

kara thrace hentai - It was only a matter of time till the geek underground thought this one up.

fuzzy weeble - I MUST have one!

tyrannosaurus rex funny picture of m&m - Erm. wha?

nudity in “national parks” - Is this a problem? Where are the pictures?

little brain - you know what they say: Little brain… big gazongas.

bunng microkini - That sounds most unpleasant.

hornygril - George Foreman stands to make a killing.

mean boy poems - How bout a haiku?

Oh those dangly bits
make you such a meanyhead;
vicious, vacant boy.

but i had a boat!

It’s one of those days… you know the kind;

like when you think you’re playing 7-card stud, and it turns out you’re playing razz.

stream of conscious

I want to take my oatmeal and lob it at the wall.
Make an ugly splotch-mark;
ruin breakfast.
Take my orange, too, and slam it
with all my force against an opposable barrier.
Crush to pulp.

There must be a way out of these patterns,
and if I have to break things
I will break things.

In the exquisite tile mosaics of
exotic countries I’ve forgotten the name of,
ancient craftsmen used to
work a flaw into the intricate patterns.

This way the mind had a way to escape their beauty.

It was most essential, this freedom,
no matter how beautiful the pattern was.

It is the same in that Henson film, Labyrinth,
when she raised her eyes to the mirror
from the center of a dream
and all that fantasy was entrapment:

You pick up the chair
and you smash your way through.

My hand lowers orange to plate.
Fingers touch the rim, edging it gently away and out of reach.

Do you know the power it requires
to contain violence, to tame it?
To make your hand gentle,
to turn your body a fraction
and sit still…

This healthy discipline makes
something die in the body;
forces impulse inward-
strangles the will.

finis coronat opus with fish

I really meant to post more on the last entry, but… I didn’t. No aquarium pictures, no ant travails, no explanation of the mysterious Sam Adams ’sensual’ comment-

I lost my momentum.

But now… NOW! Now I have time.

Let me first revisit this bit though- the sweetly retarded aspects of being in love. There is nothing really sweet about it. Love is retarded. Love is a lobotomized bulldog that leaves odd, wet patches where it slept on your pillow. Treasure it or throw it out the window, either way, you’ll eventually be responsible for the mess it makes.

Hey, that was deep. I should get that embroidered on a t-shirt. “Love is a lobotomized bulldog.”

Now the Aquarium:

I was really pretty pleased how the pictures turned out. I’m no portrait picasso or landscape artist, but I do capture a fine fish.

Click on the pic if you wanna see any of these in godzilla frame.

Each of these fish is a fascinating species with their own specific habits and habitats. Unfortunately, I only remember the name of one of them, so none of that information is available to relate. I can tell you, though, that these guys are a highly reflective shiny silver, and as thin as a dinner plate. I love the ocean because the creatures within it prove that someone up there has a wild imagination.

Wait till you see the next one. It looks like some sort of exotic bird with fanning plumage.

Do you see it? No? Well check him out from underneath:

Lest you tire of fish, I’ve got crabs, too. Wait, that didn’t come out right….

I actually do know what this is: The Japanese Spider Crab. It’s the largest living arthropod in the world, with a leg span that can reach up to four meters from end to end. These guys weren’t quite that long, but they were impressive; as big as a large dog. Japanese Spider Crabs are believed to live as long as 100 years, and are thus classified as living fossils.

And on the other end of the spectrum, you have this little guy logging in at about four inches. Isn’t he cute? *cooes*

Look, a poker fish! He’s full tilt!

Had to snap this shot. His profile reminded me viscerally of my Uncle Darrell.

Aren’t they lovely? You’d think they’d be more popular.

Finally, we come to the mystical fish. I kind of want one of these now. It was really hard to get a picture, they’re crazy good at moving just when you’ve framed a shot, but I got four ’sorta’ photos. I’ll save those for after the Samuel Adams thing, but I wish there had been a way to let you see these fish. They were so… woah. Like not even real. They’re cartoons. They’re dragons. They’re fantasy/sci-fi creatures. And they’re really poisonous to eat. Think about that while I peruse some copy from the Sam Adams site, and you can let your mind wander here and there through the romantic, provocative descriptions of these quality brews.

Samuel Adams White Ale:

The style gets its name from the white, milky appearance of this unfiltered wheat ale…we add a proprietary spice blend to give Samuel Adams White Ale a unique and complex flavor, without being overpowering or cloying… The spice blend includes orange and lemon peel, dried plum, grains of paradise, coriander, anise, hibiscus, rose hips, tamarind, and vanilla. It is this special blend of spices that gives Samuel Adams White Ale its unique character, complexity and refreshing drinkability. The beer is coarse filtered, leaving a white haze from the malt proteins.

Samuel Adams Brown Ale:

Dark in color yet medium bodied. Rich and smooth. Samuel Adams Brown Ale is a study in flavor, body, and style. Supported by an interesting blend of malts, it shines with a deep mahogany luster. The roasted malt blend is complex and deep as well, with notes of biscuit, nut and caramel. The hops are imported from Europe; Noble Spalt from Germany and citrusy Goldings, a traditional British ale hop selected from a single farm in East Kent. With moderate hop bitterness, a deep malt body, and a fruity ale fermentation character, Samuel Adams Brown Ale satisfies the soul and doesn’t overwhelm the tongue.

!!!

Tell me more, you naughty, naughty marketing men.

Samuel Adams Old Fezziwig Ale:

The full body hits the palate first with a depth of malt character ranging from sweeter toffee and caramel notes to the more dark, roasty chocolate notes. Then come the spices in full force. Cinnamon, ginger and orange peel dance on the tongue bringing with them the celebratory spirit that goes hand in hand with the season.

Oh God, that was satisfying. I’ll leave the darker stuff for the more hard-core. You know what I’m talkin’ about… Sam Adam’s Double Bock, which is actually illegal in Alabama, Arizona, Georgia, Iowa, Louisiana, Missouri, North Carolina, Ohio, South Carolina, Tennessee, and West Virginia. Now that’s a beer.

Finally, I present to you, the Spiny Puffer Blowfish.

Does that even look real? I’m in love with a fish… bring on the bulldog.

Obama & Hillary: Gut impression ‘Unity Rally’

I’m watching this right now, the ‘Unity  Rally’ with Obama and Hillary taking place in Unity, New Hampshire. He’s standing behind the podium.  She’s standing a little apart in a blue suit with her hands clasped looking awkward. He talks and talks and talks.

I gotta say, I feel uneasy. It seems like Obama is communicating that Hillary will be his running mate, but he won’t say it. He goes on with an idealistic schpiel. It sounds great. No mention, so far, of how to bring these aspirations to reality.

I wonder why he doesn’t announce? I wonder why he keeps her standing there looking awkward? This on the heels of him making a big deal about ‘paying Hillary’s debt’. I didn’t embrace the notion of Clinton for president, but I feel as though this spectacle is much more humiliating to her than any accusation could be. He keeps her standing there. And the people, too.. he keeps everyone waiting for the announcement that doesn’t come.

I’m a liberal democrat.  I don’t know nearly as much about the political candidates as others who keep up with political news. I was excited about Edwards and disappointed when his numbers were weak. I’m happy the Republicans are on their way out, I really am.

But this makes me uneasy. The picture of these two. It’s hard enough to accept the lavish compliments they’ve started coating each other with, but now here they are: You can see her reigning in all her ambition and disappointment to look like just the very best Obama cheerleader in the world!  She stands there so patiently… maybe she’ll get a treat? To see an intelligent, ambitious person in that position- it’s nauseating.

I don’t like her for playing the game. I can’t stand his condescension in this instance.

He’s young, still. He’s a junior senator from Illinois, but I think Obama has a great deal to learn about winning gracefully. The arrogance of some of his statements lately concern me as a democrat. We want the right guy up there; someone who has both good intentions for the country but also the skills to execute those intentions wisely. Change is necessary at this point, but not any change we can muster, and not at any cost.

Of course, when the other guys talk about him, it’s hardly worth listening to. I don’t really want to hear republican viewpoints at this point in the country’s history. They have the right to speak and I have the right not to give a dingo’s turd what they have to say after the spectacle of Bush. But as a liberal, I have concerns about these two on the stage together. I’d rather not be asked to believe in their sudden ‘unity’.

The entire charade kinda makes my stomach twist in a knot.

A pile to peruse

I have a lot of things in my head that I kinda want to write about, but haven’t. Thoughts that might comprise a post; but none of it has been like… formed.

We took an aquarium trip last month that I meant to download the pictures from; then there’s a John Williams post on the back-burner- John Williams the composer that is. I wanted to talk about how sensual the Samuel Adams site is, even for a non-beer drinker. Talking about beer is a lot more appealing than drinking the stuff, in my humble opinion.

I might have considered making mention of the weather in correlation to mood. Or considered commenting on my irresponsiveness the last couple weeks. Or discussed, once more, the sweetly retarded aspects of being in love.

I could talk about the ants. Yes? I don’t know… fascinating but creepy-crawly. (We recently survived an infestation.)

Or I could discuss my daughter’s new-found discovery of phone-power & her fondness for calling anyone, anyone at all, at any hour. This has made the last few days interesting, and I only moments ago fielded a gentle request from a friend’s mom that Sierra not call before 6 a.m.

I’ve been thinking about the wild-fires in California, wondering at the climatic conditions that allowed 800 wildfires to be roaring across that beautiful state so early in the season.

And I have blog pals on the mind, too. Everyone’s living their own life, and it’s such a crazy spectrum of experiences if you glance at it for a moment: This family is expecting a baby, this family has lost someone; this blogger has had terrible luck with break-ins of both car and apartment; this blogger has an exciting project going where they can show their art-work in an online gallery; these two bloggers have changed domains, this blogger has changed residence.

Wow.

And I think I’ll come back to the ants here, cus I can’t help but draw a metaphoric comparison between the scurrying industry, the purpose and perfectly unconscious absorption of the ant it its daily life as she goes about her daily tasks, and then the bigger picture (maybe not so very much bigger?) Of us. We. People: So very caught up in our world, the drama’s unfolding therein. There are things that ripple across and touch many of us at once from time to time, but from above it must look like so much chaos resolving itself in brief but beautiful designs that disintegrate once more before you can even see how each microcosm is connected.

So what do I do? I think I’ll post the pictures here and there, create my own little chaos. Cover everything and nothing, leave a big old pile here to peruse, if you so desire…

It’s the summer, after all, and if my ears do not deceive me, my daughter is making more inroads on the telephone.

I do so hope she hasn’t called 911 out of pure sociability… again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This week is the word of a poem

It is very late night and I miss you,
sitting at your desk, the desk you sit
and wait and write things, type things.
I hardly type things now
when I miss you.

It is a very big world, and I miss you;
waiting in our corners, the way we wait:
Prize fighters, stoked for an embrace,
something to fight for, hold onto;
faces framed as if in agony.
You’d hardly know that
these two could
separate.

It is a very late night in a big world and I miss you.
But I pull my comfort up and remember
other hands draw blinds across the lonely dark,
and delve into words, cozy up cold homes.
It’s a great big night in an old, late world
and I know very well that I’m not alone-

but it is very late night,
and I miss you.

Artist of the Portrait

With a failure of imagination, I say
“Illustrate a book.”

Full up with understanding
that if I went dancing into mystified air
with my portal, your painting,
it would be tragedy to
invite everybody there.

“your imprint detached itself from the great cloud, giving up

forgetfulness and unknowing, taking up memory and knowledge,

wearing once again the clown suit, cheering me from my great longing,

pushing me back from the edge of the hollowed out place

where the tangled mess of old toys, broken screen doors,

rusted refrigerators and old tricycles waited.”

We try to slot you into familiar context-
market our wonder
reproduce what resonates
in the tired, pillaged heart.

I’m better for you staying
out of the open meadow;
close by the twisting forest,
obscured by dark.

For I can only see
the vibrant star of morning
under the purple shadow
of twilit skies.

Bewildered memories fill up
my mind before these visions:
That such elusive wonders could meet
ordinary eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

*art work and linked words are by artist Rick Mobbs of Mine Enemy Grows Older. This is a tribute to the artist

The Visitor Blogcast

….12:21 pm?!?

hi

I’m awake. Sorta.