woman drivers

We were barreling down the highway that lead to the mill outlet where we would buy those comfy, thick cotton clothes for school. School actually began in autumn back then. Even though it doesn't get very cold down here, (it snowed a lot more back then) I was going to get a jersey with a number on it and would have worn it, long-sleeved in July. The mill was on a river and there were a lot of friendly women there. Apollo got to sit in the front seat because he always got the best of everything, right beside Katherine the Greatest, and Mom liked to keep us separated. Of course, my hyper-active little body needed as much room as possible. We were only a few miles out of town and a long way from anywhere and approaching the rock store that stood alone at a wide open crossroad. Unseatbelted, my chin was planted on the soft top of the front seat, juxtaposed to Katherine's crown. My cousin, Bacchus, had just taught me how to take the Lord's name in vain with umph and I was burning to impart my learning in public. I saw the car totally ignore the stop sign because I always kept an eye on the rock store with the hope that a troll or dragon would one day eventually exit.
"Zeusdamn," said I with umph.
I never was really impressed by Bruce Lee. I saw and felt Mom hit my forehead, cheek, and shoulder in less than half a nanosecond with sledgehammer force while never veering between a yellow and white line and bringing a speeding icm to a pillow soft stop. A guy named Billy once said something cute about hell, fury and a scorned woman. I would have rather been with fifty scorned women at that moment. My little heart just gave up on me knowing that we, my heart and I, really didn't have much future left. What was the point in even beating? Somehow we did live though and eventually made it to the mill. As soon as we got inside I ran up and after she smiled, hugged one of the friendly women.
I never was afraid of anything again. Many people asked,
"Endymion, aren't you afraid of anything?" Quietly, I would shrug my shoulders in response. I had seen the most fearsome force in the universe and lived. I've kept a cautious, though respectful eye on women ever since. I learned that day that women can drive faster, smoother and safer than any man ever dreamed. Woe, be unto him who thinketh not.

sounds

Dreamgirl names her internal combustion machines. She has a high iq and uses names that are difficult for me to remember. The way they sound on her lips share her feelings about those machines. She really has a beautiful voice. One day in my icm, I told her that she should have a radio show. She was abused mentally and physically by her mom and this pushed her in a dogged pursuit toward psychology information. With her encyclopedic knowledge on the topic and beautiful voice, it just seemed like a good mix for her to be on the waves. After asking if she knew people in radio, she laughed,
"I just sold two radio stations." She tilts her chin up and presses her lips together and laughs with every cell in her body. There's no better place on earth to be than with her when she laughs. We started dating a week later. We only had weekends together physically because we live in different places. It usually took about an hour and a half to get from here to her. So this really wasn't a long-distance relationship, but it was an element.
Orange was, hmm, Dreamgirl's best female friend? It was a difficult relationship for me to describe. See, Orange and Dreamgirl had an enterprise together. Dreamgirl said that people told her that she and Orange were like a married couple. When Dreamgirl described her enterprise I told her that there were hundreds of thousands of people that needed it. Some people have great ideas and never follow through. Some people have lousy ideas but never give up on them. Dreamgirl and Orange were half way there, or so it seemd. The first night that Dreamgirl and I were horizontal to the universe, the moment before I kissed her, she said with laughter,
"Orange loves your thoughts."
Obviously, Dream had told Orange what I said about their enterprise. It wasn't an extreme break from reason that Dream would talk about Orange's thoughts from time to time. They pursued money together, played tennis, and just did stuff that friends do. I did wonder about Dream thinking about Orange's thoughts when the only form and concept in my mind was Dreamgirl. People think in different ways though and it didn't "bother" me, it just was something that footnoted on my programing.

keep it coming love, keep it coming love
don't stop it now, don't stop it no

We ate fruit and laughed about bald-headed children and rode roller coasters and walked that monster dog who could rearrange furniture and got a delicious thrill from dragging all of my clothes outside. We played basketball and ignored the stock market and fondled in public and restaraunts and drove to Tennessee and brought home a rescue. One night we were sitting on a dock on Cooter's Creek and as she was telling me about how she felt about how people in her life influenced her this way and that, a dreamesque look covered her from chin to brow and she started talking about Orange. She said,
"Sometimes I wonder what she's doing to me." This thought was interupted. She walked off the dock to urinate. Thinking about it, she could have just stayed on the dock. I warned her about being barefooted and dang if she didn't step right on a rusty screw. There's not a lot of litter or random devices laying around the yard beside the dock. There is no litter, but somehow she found one screw smaller than a pinky. I carried her up to the lakehouse and did the best I could to dress the wound. We ended up driving in to town and visiting the emergency room. The nurse was great but I was beginning to wonder if I was going to be driving back alone because she was all over Dream. When Dream needs something she can be a helpless ten year old in voice and body language. Personally, I don't count that as an admirable trait but Dream is a maestro at doing it. Then when Dream wants something that she thinks you can deliver, well, that's at the heart of what's great about her. She is tough as leather. Like in basketball, she grits her teeth and pokes you in soft, vulnerable places then drives. So the nurse is stern with me. Whether she was being possessively protective or protectively possessive there was a definite power dynamic going on. I was forbidden to be in the room. For a tetanus shot and cut wrap? It amused me and increased my confidence that Dream would be well-tended. So I never found out what Dream thought Orange was doing to her or why she thought Orange was doing anything at all.
Dream had been married once. A few years ago, on a different dock on a different body of water, Dream, Feces, her husband, and moi had shot fireworks into the galaxy on Boxer Day. It could have been the 4th of July but like everything else I attempt to do, I'm terrible with dates. Within three months of their wedding, Feces embarks on sexual reconaissance without his wife. So Dream has a definite issue with how people she dates think about her friends and associates. Normal and understandable. I don't have all of this information when we begin dating. When Dream asks out of cotton candy if I've ever thought about any of her friends sexually I say yes through the phone. With what Dream has told me about Orange, who by this time I've met, I have thought about Dream and Orange being together sexually. I have not thought of myself being with Orange or anyone else, known or unknown by Dream. Dream gets really mad with my answer and though I didn't expect her to buy me a banana split, I did think that "okay, we need to talk about this" would have been a more likely response. It's not a matter of right or wrong, but expected and unexpectated. I had told her that the thought of two females being together was a thought that I enjoyed. She'd even told me that before we started dating that she wondered whether she was going to have a male or female partner as she searched out individuals.
So now she's out there in the world being beautiful and I'm ... just a total ... insane ... perplexed ... peanut eatin' ... insignificant male. She tastes good, can't cook, and wont think twice about breaking ribs to get to her goal. Her mom screwed her up like I've never seen but the fact that she can even stand upright and complete a sentence just shows how steel tough she is. If Feces walked in front of my icm I'd accelerate and rename it Lee Harvey Oswald II.
She tastes better than good. Her taste controls where all my thoughts wander. She tastes as good as Nora Jones' voice sounds.

z2

My speed was suficient but I didn't anticipate the cow-sized dog breaking from the treeline and over taking me before the green. My nose would have been broken if I had been toting the melons. I learned years ago that if you turn your head to look back, it causes your hips to twist and reduces speed. I did turn my head a bit at the sound of galloping and definitely sped up when my peripheral vision outlined the size of that dog. It was too late by then and immediately my hands went forward when I felt the fur pushing into my upper thigh. Being on the fairway, there weren't any sticks or pinecones to scrape me up. My fingers didn't get jammed but the part of the palm under the thumb is tender now. A bit of throbbing while I type. So the dog knocks me down and I roll a couple of times because I was flat out sprinting when he bumped me. Then he just stands over me, licking and drooling. Now I'm no dog pyschotherapist but he seemed to be thoroughly amused by the naked human lying beneath him on the golf course. This picture flashed imagined on the front page hometown paper and it made me uneasy. I petted and hugged the big guy a while and was really thankful that he wasn't a barker. I got off the fairway and tossed a pinecone spending several minutes playing fetch.

zzzzzzzz

Flash mobs were popular for a couple of hours several years ago. Since my life in the cave is a bit isolated, maybe the flash mob streaking went past without notice. Streaking celebrates our individuality while simultaneously highlighting the similarities between all humans. It goes without mention that my version of streaking includes a watermelon toted on each shoulder, but fruit is quite optional.
Now Nike is very popular and they make a decent shoe, but you can't go wrong with a pair of New Balance cross trainers. Asphalt, gravel, clay, grass; ct's are adaptable and dependable. As far as preparation goes, golf courses are good open spaces to start.
Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. It could be the difference between laughing about it all and looking for a new town in which to reside.
Speed. Even soft, white fat boys can increase this aspect of the experience. It's all in the hams. Lay flat on your stomach with something heavy attached to your ankles and bend your knees over your rearend until it hurts.
My aunt has a house on a golf course so I'll definitely make a few practice "runs" this weekend. Plus, streaking sets a good example for all these obese kids that we've got piling up in dens and living rooms across the globe. I'm gonna be streaking for all the illiterate children born in the South every day. Not to mention the advances in mobile music enjoyment, streaking, with the aid of ipod shuffles could replace commercial watching as a national pastime. Just thinking about the air on my skin and "Born Free" in my ears makes me tingle.

a

Form always follows concept. Now water is groovy in multiple ways, but there is a reason we shuck vs's to jump in often. It's not that we're not thinking; we just weren't thinking about thinking. It's all written on the dna. Makes ya wonder who did the writin'. Some humans hop from the bank but the real kids leap from forty feet. Air + water = freedom. Everytime that I write freedom, an image of Jodie Foster chasing me around Oahu aggressively pushes unnecessary thoughts sideways. Of course, Mercedes Ruehl always jumps out from behind a random palm tree and tackles Fos. They twist and spin against one another, quite competitively, before breaking into infectious laughter. They share a joke about horses and, with arms over one another's shoulder, walk toward a spa where two not unattractive Hawaiian females with agile fingers massage the pair into giggling girl puddles. After recovering energy and hunger for delight, Fos invites the Merc and two Hf's over to her twenty million dollar bungalow. It's really embarrassing the way the chilled scotch makes them so sloppily bitchy. The Merc's pink stripped bikini bottom edges racily off the mark, preciously noted by a line of untanned skin. Fos is miffed and not a bit comfortable after the Merc slips off the uniquely soft covered bamboo bar stool. While the Hf's are totally into the Clash's Police and Thieves edgily wafting from a prohibitively expensive, yet still cool dvd player and dancing with carefree glee, the Merc begins to tell Fos how copulatin' fortunate she is to be a wasp; in Spanish no less. Fos laughs in a healthy, smooth waspish way and is quite stunned when she feels chilled, scotch poured down the center of her bikini top. With a quick recovery and not so subtle taunt, Fos offers the Merc a place to sleep,
"There's a bedroom down that hall, Maria."

slick

Magnet for the hopeless = me. They leap from box shrubs, plastic signs, discarded lawnmower blades, caution lights, Krispie Kreme cartons, and cracked surfboards onto my rainbowed path. Ten bucks in my pockets and they need nine; two hundred and they need one fifteen. It's only paper and you have to believe in zero for it to mean anything. At least they're human. They've undone themselves through poor decisions, bad timing, and abandoned belief in who they are. Except for Jamie. He couldn't tell you what yesterday was. He can't look you in the eyes to ask for something. He just knows he needs two dollars for a can of dip or five bucks for some Bojangles' chicken. Physically abused and mentally damaged growing up, at twenty, his life is a slick ride down a sewer. It's nice the way their eyes light up when they see me, though.

mud

The day went by similar to a snakebite, quick and unfrivilous. That cute, little bulldog came to visit. She belongs to a guy who works next door. She's white and everybody loves her. She's got the sweetest personality. One day when she was really young she was playing her little heart out in a mud puddle. Someone once wrote that "dogs are gods of frolic." So true. There's something fundamentally wrong with people who don't like dogs. We could have a national pop test and sort out a lot of the people who are simply going to cause problems in the long run. Well, that's one of the world's problems solved in five hundred words or less. Next.

green

Another beautiful day beams warm and clear. Oh sweet breedin' season, oh sweet trailer girls. A long walk through tall pines and countless moments of mindless yipping with a treasured, soft and pretty scoop of heaven tugging gently toward pure pleasure.

help me, Rhonda, help help me Rhonda

It could very well be the end of capitalism, reality television, and supermarket coupons. Paint me an anarchist, all green and lazy. Lay me sideways and let me look deep into the omnipotent eyes of the sweet and pretty. March straight from dusk to dawn and protect us from predetermined enemies; just don't march between her and my eyes. Fill my mind with any program you choose. Call Ivan, Abdul, and Oscar. Tell them: mission accomplished. One more effort exhausted and translated on the meaningless ledger of power. Looking deeper still into her eyes where life becomes reality and the meaning of existence sleeps warm and full.
There are many piles of American dollar bills. There are many lines of words strung together to guide or mislead. Nature has many answers. Everyone must learn to see or choose to ignore.

what happened to your little baby
what happened to your little girl
she said she'd always love you
in your heart-shaped world

Sleep covers the thirst and smiles burn sweet dreams further into this cerebral mesh blanketed in Nature's calming truth.

Sometimes that "song" plays on the r a d i o and you get a tingling feeling and the ionosphere and stratosphere are tighter circles to better absorb the green plumes filling the sky in the pinetree wakes going poof and boom.

hitchhiked her way across the U S A

Whether sleepin' in Topeka or shroomin' in Sacremento, we all want another dip of ice cream. Now cows are very important and some knuckleheads want to litter a perfectly good scoop with the random, individually packed candy, but a smooth wrist wisk is quintessential.

touch me in the morning

GO! All you young humans remount your bravest steed, tuck tight and gallop fearless and happy toward that tipped bovine that you unrighted last night. Go NOW! For the sake of Artemis, hug a cow today.

It is going to be a beautiful day today. Don't listen to the mild excuses explaining the world's doom. Don't compliment the lastest plastic sign up on the boulevard. Slip off your high heels and wear some comfy proleterian mocs for at least a moment or two.

In Virginia Tech we see
courage and beauty
beyond you and me
through tears
pained heart and fears
soul strength rising
higher now
loving, touching, flying
Hokie bridges for all to pass
Hokie love will always last

wake

We drove across the river in the evening. The beautiful sun and fecund hills loved us warm and deep. The trip, good, the reason, ungood. My grandmother's brother died two days ago. We saw the past few decades unrolled before us in graduations and great-grandchildren. Uncle K was a good man, laid-back and accomodating. Dedicated family man, simple wants, refined skills and true to his word. Good in his wake, peace in his future.

So? So!

So many people, so much time. Learning love and quietly conquering the world one hug at a time drives me closer to that pacific hill, windswept, beside a catfish fat pond idly basking in soft, warm sunshine. A loud relationship with demons taught me to always run toward sunshine and manufacture it prodigiously on rainy, dazed afternoons. Why in the heck did the little me hesitate? Too small, too selfish, too wasted, too well-informed about the coolness in nothingness, and far too clever in self-deception manuevers at midnight could be the reason slash s. Just plain stupid capital s. Someone once said something cool about a new day and a blank computer screen but the order of the words escape. Twisting wildly back toward the world and my new smiledom, learns another example in grace with a border stitched tight with fun. Glance frequently sunward and just keep running baby. Just keep running.

heart

pain
tears
sadder than I ever want to be again
Hokies Forever!