Airport

It's nothing but the anonymity I like.
The rest can fuck right off"
The man said to his airport beer in the airport
bar in he major international airpot, on one international
special airport of a million.
"There is. A. Little more. Surliness. From the bartender. Hre. Than I. Expected in. Chicago"
The man thought in his best WIlliam Shatner inside
his own head voice
"It is. Great. This. Awkwardness. Where you.
Are in such. close. Proximity. to others."
He thought, in his best Christopher
Walken voice.
"They all, look, and stare, motherfuckers!
and wonder what you are up to, my name
is vengance!"
He thought, in his best Samuel L. Jackson voice.
"What's in his note book, why is he writing
those things, possibly about me?"
He thought, in his best Woody Allen voice.
Probably the best was drinking his drink and basking in his anonymity. Without interruption.


From a moleskin
somewhere around 2015

Another F%$#ing Bear

'Another f$%&ing bear' the man sighed as he took a wood-free sip  then pulled the pull start on his Husky. It fired on the third pull like it always did. 'You gotta put more ass into it!' his Dad would always yell after the 1st or 2nd pull, then laugh to himself, the joke that never got old.

The man took another sip from his likely wood free beer and revved his chainsaw three time, the third really letting it rip.

He took a third sip of beer and laid into the log. Maple, drying for 2 weeks in the sun, still a little buttery.

The man used to cut with headphones in, and try to cut in tune, but realized the chainsaw was the rhythm, the tree was the melody, and this non-stop stream of obscenities was the harmony.

'rrrrrRRRRRRrrrrrr 'you mother fucker!' he tore through a big chunk, creating the bear's signature dad gut.
'weeeRRRRRRRRR 'cunt fuck ass hair!
He was diggin in, cutting the arms aimed toward invisible bear pockets, the neck, the back, and already starting into the furry detail with a few deft side strokes.

He took a long pull on his beer helmet and revved the shit out of the Husky, clearing the chain and knowing damn well he'd be sucking some serious chips soon.

The man cut the ears, the eyes, snout, mouth, and began finishing the finish.

At this point he was laughing like a loon, chips flying, hair, beard, flannel, knuckle hair. Chips everywhere, smoke rising from the wood heating up, he felt like a conductor on meth and acid and the chainsaw his band, the log his audience, carving, slicing, dicing.

It was hours later when the man finished, chainsaw sputtering from a near-dry tank; wood smoking from being cut so hard, a nearby far-off neighbor yelling about the sound, the smoke, and some other bullshit.

The man dropped his saw, his beer helmet, his goggles, hung a $35 dollar sign around the bear's neck and walked it to his spot next to the highway next to his Dad's faded sign advertising Grady's Wood Carving.

'Another fucking beer' he laughed as he walked back to his couch.

the eyes have it

There is something about moving
organizing
deciding which items from your life are worth keeping
worth disposing of
and worth giving a second chance to
at the local Goodwill.
Every time I move
or heavily organize
or fucking clean
I find pictures
letters
gifts
knick-nacs
household items
from an ex or three
that I have to evaluate and mentally categorize
one two three
what to keep and what to discard and what to
try and pass the buck
toss the football
to another sad sack soul.

This time was different, maybe.
Or perhaps the time between this and last was so great
or perhaps I have grown wiser in my old age
at spotting the little things
and the not so little things
a realization by an ex what had driven me away
perfectly articulated in a letter I had ignored

the eyes of another, so beautiful, and so
fucking hurt, in each and every photograph.
a glimmering model of perfection
my mind could never tarnish
my modern day monroe
with porcelain skin
and a world of hurt and of pain
tucked beneath her eyes
something i could never fix
no matter how she hurt me so.

The new detachment

Sometimes in life it is necessary to detach from a situation. Al-anon first introduced me to this concept; of help through distance. The recognition that that gut feeling of helplessness is best served by sometimes acting helpless. Pushing those you want to hold the closest away so that they too can see the distance.

Pittsburgh musings

Goddamn I love this town.

Photography

Things change when you look
through the lens of a
single lens reflex
and bring a beautiful scenic
scene into a metered view finder

And part of the kick
of staring at this scene is
observing those in and out the
frame through a squinted
eye, trying to catch a glimpse
inside of you
and inside that frame.

nobility.

There is nothing noble about being rich.
There really isn't anything particularly noble
about being poor,
either.

and yet i chase and seek the nobility
among the rich and the poor among us

the rich purity we each bear and
can occasionally radiate through
this societal shroud that
envelopes the inner us.

There isn't anything noble about being rich.
and there isn't anything particularly noble about
being poor.

and sometimes those with the most
have the least
while those with the least
have the most.

the grass is always greener
on the manicured lawn.

the grass is always greener.
in the junkyard.

there isn't anythign noble about being rich.
there isn't anything noble about being poor.

we envy the everything for having it.
we envy the lacking for not.

the old definition of having what you want
not wanting what you have

but having it all you can't want a thing
and wanting it all you cant have a thing

our daily juxtaposition of
want vs need
have vs have not

our daily struggle.

let's re-invent the wheel.

salad bar midget

I stared longingly ready for a bowl of
potato soup and lifted my foot
in anticipation of the
forward motion that would
carry me closer to a bowl of
potatoes and bacon bits and
creamy broth

and I spotted the salad bar girl
doing salad bar things in the
soup area adjacent to the salad bar

and i noticed she was a midget and my
foot hovered a non perceptible
inch off the ground as every muscle in my
body tightened and i froze

scared shitless by this weird perfectly
normal salad bar eat N park midget.

qwerty

what is is observational from my day
i often wonder sitting here
in front of keys
in front of an empty page

i think through the day
and i can remember only
a hangover
liquid
and another great sense
of fluid
well-lubricated
well-being.

FUCK

FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER ILL KILL THAT MOTHERFUCKER
said the man in the black shirt
cowboy boots
cowboy hat.

he seemed so angry and I wondered at what.
I was so happy he was on the other side of the street.

I sipped my beer and stared at my book
avoided the anger and
dreaded conflict
considering how good my day
was going.

so far.

virtue

two bit three bit
one shit floor shit

spend my days drinking more shit
and my mornings wondering why,
shit.

hangover juice coffee work
is my everyday
same day
routine.

I want to break free
and forth and
re-discover this
word called virtue

never found in a bottle.
i think.

27

how does one make it to 27
so sexy, so sweet, so single.
escaping the lure of bad news bad guys
with their sweet bikes
and bad attitudes
oh wait you did it
with the poise and grace
you used to dodge my advances.

$80 bar tab

I'd rather spend 80 dollars
at the bar than
80 dollars at the hip
euro trash store down the street

because the well stitched indian threads
in the H&M shirt might tell a different

more permanent story I would
prefer to live my own

hazy forgotten tale.

$80 bar tab

you can't put a price
on the cast of characters
that rolls through the bar
on a windy cold thursday

you could put an ad on craigs
or on a telephone pole

but not expect the sort of out
of sorts that comes out
on a windy thursday.

a bunch of drunken fools.
drunken bartenders and their
birthday friends and us.

we roll the dice and throw the drinks
and hope that the glasses land booze
side up and we land in the same damn
bar stool again.
the next night.

Skateboarding

It was a beautiful day today in Pittsburgh
not beautiful in the conventional sense
rather beautiful in the February in Pittsburgh
sense

My skate hit the street my foot hit my skate
and I rode dirty through the grit and drying salt

another skater paralled my path across the street
symmetrical discord

another approached in my departure vector
three random dudes with so much in common

and nary a head nod exchanged as we each
headed off in our solitary pursuit
of company.

Heroin Junkies

Heroin Junkies
I thought as I met the couple.
rockstar hippie iggie pop.
marla singer.
loving living rolling together on
one another
but i sensed the booze wasn't
the only factor.

I felt disgust,
I felt vile, I
saw what they had together
and I hated them
because I felt jealousy.

Bob

makes the place seem lively with
his easy smile and casual demeanor
never letting his problems of
the day spill into the half
spilt drink he is slinging
a model of mediocrity in an
utterly mundane world
a savior of saints slinging
prophecy zen one
spilt drink at a time.

Rich

Rich brings the
house down at
Kowarski's which
is not even a metaphorical statement
because that dude is
sour and broken and beat
and brings you a drink
with barely a smile on his
time weathered face

he does his job
pays the minimum and
cashes his check
sleeps in his lonely
bed with undreamt dreams
of what once was.

Bartender

a bartender is the easily approachable
fully clothed stripper of my
every day drunk existence.
perhaps.

usually with more attitude
and less flesh
and 100% less chance of
giving me a lap dance and
50% less chance of
fucking me but
with 100% more chance of
bringing me a drink on time
straight up
on the rocks
with no water
or bullshit

Bartender

female bartender is a great
source of jealousy for most
women who dont understand the
intimate nonsexual relationship
men have between their bartender
their bar and their beer.
if we can cheat on you with a bar,
with a beer, or
with a bartender, then
you probably don't quite understand
the male psyche because we're
cheating on you with noone,
but fucking all of them.