Archive for July, 2007

9

July 28, 2007

Nine                                                                                                            7/21/07

A nine is a type of gun.  Today’s poem had the execution of a deer with a blade as better than a gutshot bleedout and I wonder.  Same dude I could have asked if he thought Iraq U.S. guys blown apart were heroes. 

 

                                                                                                7/24/07

Nine is similar to a German word for No.  Is the Pope… Is the Pope saying no to Vatican II?  Is the Pope saying yes to throwing the Mafia out and using Latin as magic to combat the forces of evil?  I wonder.

Nine is similar to Nin, the name of Anais, who was Henry Miller’s friend.  I’ve just listened to a tape of her reading in ’72 at the NINEty Second Street Y (from her diary.)  It reminded me that I liked Miller for more than just the sexy parts, these both writers are expansive, is the only word I can come up with now.

Nine is similar to Nin, the first name of a poet lady who fulfils promise.  I heard her read, and her blog reminds me that we all need to do better than puppy dogs.  And this is me trying to make friends as deemed…

Nine is unlike 5’6”, 215, a bleach blonde bomber with a streak of mean.  This is my Roller Derby Queen.  It’s the music anyway from Jim Croce, who I remember died in a plane crash, and where I was at the time I heard.  My skates were black leather with yellow outdoor wheels and laces.  I lost them in a move.

Did I mention I’m in pain?

Nine is the first part of the number 9:42, that comes up in the I Phone commercial.  It came up in another poem that haunts me.  Maybe you want to see what the number means to you.

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Blog Post to End

July 16, 2007

Blog Post to End …

                                                                                                            7/14/07

            Time Warner sent me a bill for another month.  AT&T wants to sell me for Internet access, after it took me three months to get credit for the last imaginary deal they billed me for.  Patti Smith sang “They’re throwing rocks at the tanks…”  Today it’s like that in Israel, right or wrong, and Time Warner can expect, well I don’t know, I should stay out of trouble.  They did write, “A collection fee of up to 25.00 will be added to your account for any payment collected at your door by a Time Warner Cable representative.”

            These people are not going to be part of the network for good against evil.  Another thing ATT used to do was sell internet access, and I’d tell them, “Help me, my phone is undependable, it gets scratchy, static like, and goes out no dial tone for a day at a time.”  They should have known what the problem was from my explanation, and they were wrong about “resistance” and could only say maybe I’d owe $71.00.

            So the plan was to try to live without the expense of home internet access.  Some of these news sources are so conservative, it’s like brainwashing, and I can do without it.

            I’ve moved.  Now is a miracle.  That’s the good news.   Thanks for asking, but the pain is not better, it’s like I’m being tortured every day or every day, and no I don’t want it to continue.  Today is my birthday, and I’m not really on speaking terms with my father, who is a psychological predator.

            I’m in pain now and I’m going to break for swimming if I can.  It’s Saturday and the ‘brary closes, but by tomorrow I’ve got to use my flash drive and post this, because Time Warner is trying to screw me as three of their customer service people have not helped me.  Then maybe I’ll comment other writers’ blogs.  Thanks.

 

7/15-16/07                                                                 

I have to write more.  I am in pain now.  I cannot let the pain slow down my writing.  I’ve been blowing off the JCC because I get poisoned there and I have not been able to do anything with the lifeguards or members.  I have to write more, otherwise maybe I’m more like a bum.  The Cable people are asking for trouble.  I could not ask the Catholic woman-with-a-ten-year-old-son out for breakfast because I was up all night in pain.  It’s amazing I made it to the art festival at all.  Chipotle (may be a good place to eat.)