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Aug. 25th, 2006 @ 11:36 am A Crisis of lethargic proportions...
Current Location: On a road...
Current Mood: excitedexcited
Current Music: Radiohead, "Punchdrunk Lovesick Singalong"
I'm going camping! I need to go camping: One, this last few weeks have been tiring a.k.a busy as hell, and two, school's starting in a couple of weeks a.k.a need to have fun now and when I can. This is just a little something I wrote when I was in a similar situation last summer, bored, but a better man now (Or so I hope).


A Lethargic Crisis


My beer's gone flat,
Knocked over,
And sprayed away.
Induced,
By a buzzed up -
Caffeine stupor.
One thing,
Or another,
When I want to drink alone...
I grab the survivor,
Or the can that's most full,
And stare at the TV,
Though,
I've forgotten to turn it on,
So I eyeball the music,
And listen for a picture,
...
I come up with nothing...
...
Nothing,
Like home,
When the apartment's empty,
I'm empty,
Hell,
Even my fish have packed,
And are ready to go...
I pick up the phone -
Half a life-line,
Half a Hell,
And fondle numbers,
All of her numbers,
As if she were really here,
And she could be,
But I'm not...
My beer's hit "E,"
So I join the fish,
I pack for the road,
The miles that lead away,
The trip
That leads me to women,
And decide to save her the trip...


Squall_ver01


P.S. HighCliff, here I come...


About this Entry
Aug. 22nd, 2006 @ 10:44 am An old friend and another mend...
Current Location: Getting buff...hah!
Current Mood: sadsad
Current Music: The White Stripes, "My Doorbell"
I got a call this morning. I have another friend in trouble. I guess this poem's about her, but then again, so many of them were...


"Cooled Beyond Boiling"


It's Wednesday night,
And finally 70 degrees,
Including
The three from separation,
Thankfully,
Down from the 547,
Minus humidity,
And the day earlier.
There's no moon,
And no stars,
Well,
Maybe a few,
Dancing away in
Nearby taverns.
It starts like a touch,
Then forms to a kiss,
Entrenched,
And somehow drenched -
The storm
Is finally here.
It's too early for
Bed,
So I'll stare to the sky,
And find my
Hidden heaven,
Outside of someone else,
Once inside
Of you.
I cry,
It's the only time
That I can,
Where the rain
Hides my tears,
And the thunder
Steals my scream.
It's still too early for
Bed,
And for once,
When I finally get there,
I'll be alone...


Squall_ver01





"One eye sees my past..."
About this Entry
Aug. 14th, 2006 @ 11:24 am On a funnier note...
Current Location: Still before a door...
Current Mood: tiredtired
Current Music: The White Stripes, "Apple Blossom"
My neighbors make me laugh...



About this Entry
Home is the hunter...
Aug. 14th, 2006 @ 11:11 am Just another night...
Current Location: Before a door...
Current Mood: tiredtired
Current Music: The White Stripes, "Cannon"
My sleep's like a gift, when I get it -


"A Senseless 12:03"


Light's out, in my eyes -
Though I can see the alarm clock,
The blinking red lights.
12:00
12:01
12:02


The sound is gone, from my ears -
Though the record is still playing,
Skipping
"Save me"
"Save me"
"Save me"


The touch is lost, from a gentle hand -
Though the scars remain to itch,
So I scratch.
This one's from him,
That one's from her,
My favorite's from you.


The taste is gone, leaving the wind empty -
Mother's cooking has left,
Like a forgotten birth,
And birthdays.
No home yesterday,
No home tomorrow,
And nothing today.


My nose is stuffed, but I smell the fear -
I smell it when I wake up,
And when I lay my head.
No perfume,
No flowers,
No you, I'm alone
Alone and uncovered with my death
At 12:03...


Squall_ver01
About this Entry
Home is the hunter...
Aug. 11th, 2006 @ 09:41 am Another broken truck and forgotten Road-trip...
Current Location: Almost in a pond...
Current Mood: okayokay
Current Music: The Black Keys, "I'll be your Man"
Last Christmas I got in an accident with my truck and totaled it. It was the perfect road-trip vehicle. For some awkward reason I was thinking about it this morning...good memories, and Good times...damn, I really punished that truck.


"Dead, A lie, and Alive"


The road's become old,
Or traveled too much,
For the promise
Of the same old bar,
Same old battle,
And most importantly,
Same old you.
The ride of the writer -
My '93 Nissan,
Is rusted,
And torn,
Though,
The music's plenty,
Even if the speakers
Are small.
I've left the valley,
Through the
Desolate poor lands,
Where the American farmer
Is dead,
Or dying.
Cows and corn
Make way,
Into sub-divisions,
Particularly one -
The prairie of the sun,
Where the politicians,
And bureaucrats bed,
Claiming to know,
Feel,
And relate to,
The pains of the people
So very far away.
My final destination,
My arrival,
Madison -
The hotbed of liberalism,
Where the joint,
Is as common,
And as cheap as
Cigarettes,
As breweries pulse,
Almost living,
Every other block.
You reside,
Like me,
Angry,
And not like those
Who live away from,
And out of -
The alley.
I'm finally here,
As you've hoped for me
To arrive,
So that we can be,
And be
Among our own -
At war,
And armed with a vote...


Just a little background into this piece - This is about a road-trip I took years ago to Mad"town," Wisconsin. Most of the state legislators live in a sub-division just outside of Madison called Sun Prairie. They very seldom reside within their constituency. Whatta way to know the people! Speak for me please:P Anyway, I went there for a demonstration and well, what can I say? Good times for sure...


Squall_ver01





I was driving through a freakin' tornado...definitely fun!
About this Entry
Aug. 10th, 2006 @ 10:30 am "Cremated Bacon," and an Old Friend...
Current Location: Awaiting the weekend...
Current Mood: calmcalm
Current Music: The White Stripes, "Hotel Yorba"
"Cremated Bacon"


I am a constant change -
Ecstasy shadowed by sadness,
Rage bringing content,
A rebirth
Brought about by epiphany,
A fall
Brought about by the
Deepest love,
Bacon instead of sausage...


I ordered the bacon,
The waitress looked like
She had too much.
Crisp,
Burnt,
Cremated!
I can't stand the dripping grease,
And fat.
No
And not because of "Atkins,"
Or "Southbeach" either.
No one tells me how to live,
Only how to die...


"I'll have fun burning your bacon,"
At least
That's what I think she said.
Bukowski would have -
Slapped her ass,
Or perhaps
Had her raped as a fictional character.
Radloff would have proclaimed -
"HOLY JEEBUS!"
Maybe later to
Rattle off an ode for bacon,
And sex...


And I,
I do not know.
I am unsure.
One-third of me laughs,
One-third of me cries,
And one-third of me
Doesn't understand.
But then again,
I never did...
Or was it that
I did all too well...


So yeah, a friend of mine (a best-friend and bro) called me last night. I have been trying to get ahold of him for months now. As a matter of fact, I was going to take a road-trip and hunt him down this weekend. Well, I'll be seeing him this weekend at a friends wedding. He isn't doing the best now, but it was a relief to finally hear from him. I'll do what I can to help, my friends say I'm good at that...I try...I can only hope that I can provide...


HOLY JEEBUS! Radloff's coming home!



A picture from years ago, but a picture at least...
About this Entry
Home is the hunter...
Aug. 8th, 2006 @ 10:42 am Should I remember you...?
Current Location: Somewhere years ago...
Current Mood: blankblank
Current Music: Nirvana, "The Man who sold the World"
So yeah, I had a bad dream last night. I have a lot of bad dreams - but at least it's a dream...I thought about someone last night that I once loved, and even though I am quite happy now, happier than I've ever been, I still wonder if she's happy and well...


Estranged in Paradise


Subconscious drive towards overexposure,
Growing stranger,
When we try to join.
Meet the stranger,
Or familiar of the two
When we prove
We are in fact alive.
The butterfly I see,
Drifts like the monarch to mate.
I see your eyes,
And hidden wings on your back,
Feeling the poetry
That is your life...
Will the wind hide us when we meet?
Hiding like the hooker,
And the husband,
Too afraid
To admit the wound,
With the scars that seem to bind.
Predisposition,
Predestination,
Closer,
Not close enough...
If we hide under the blankets,
Will they think we're ghosts?
Or perhaps gone?
Through the window to our
Other life -
In the streets,
Where we dance half-naked
Later to kiss in the rain,
Estranged,
Like the people we've -
Left behind,
Just us,
And our little paradise.
It's when we're here,
Or near,
That I fear,
Or at least begin to drift,
Because I'll know
That our night must end,
And our life will return,
To the danger that is us...
Going,
Going,
And gone...
Predetermined,
A preconceived post-mortem,
Making sure you're out,
And I'm gone...


Squall_ver01



About this Entry
Aug. 4th, 2006 @ 09:46 am So yeah, there was that little something about a golf-cart...
Current Location: Anywhere but a golf-cart
Current Mood: geekygeeky
Current Music: Johnny Cash, "Long-legged guitar pickin' Man"
So a year ago tomorrow I went to a really big party with some old friends. And with every big party with old friends came a lot of big drinks. The wind was in my hair, my "knoxvilles" (aviators) were on, and the golf-cart was a roarin'. BOOM!!! OUCH!!! So yeah, wipeout, I'm stupid/cool and decided to write about it, whatta bore...


A fear of Golf-Carts


It could have been my neck,
My brains,
Or my balls
On the rocks below,
Where I tucked,
Rolled,
And somehow
Came out alive...
One-year now,
I feel quite older,
As my bones
Rattle storms,
And old wives tales
While I wither,
Naturally,
But hope to conquest
Dreams,
Passion,
And death,
As I'm now in the shower,
Post-a-possible mortem,
Alive,
But could'a been dead,
100-fold,
And aware
Of how fragile a flower can be....


Mwuahahahaha...
About this Entry
Home is the hunter...
Aug. 3rd, 2006 @ 11:21 am Global-warming...you tell me?
Current Location: Balamb Garden
Current Mood: apatheticapathetic
Current Music: Beck, "Sea Changes"
I can't stand the humidity anymore...I grew up in California, and now I live in Wisconsin - It feels hotter here! This is the hottest recorded summer in U.S. history so that makes it the hottest since at least 1865 (that's about the time weather began being officially recorded...let me know if I'm wrong). Global-warming exists, the polar ice-caps tell us so. Even if the "warming" effect is cyclical and "natural," we sure as hell are speeding up the "hows" and "whys" of it's occurrence. Anyhow, here's a weird expression pertinent to the predicament:


Buried Arboreal


Trees sprout from -
Hearts,
Smiles,
And suicide,
Miles from -
The rich,
Paper,
And fire...
It's when the books
Are gone,
Burnt,
And forgotten,
That I realize
The rain no longer cools,
And my umbrella
Has since melted,
Long before
My smile ever did...
Feet
Lead to blocks,
Than miles,
And maybe even worlds,
Where the last grove
May be found:
Oaks,
Maples,
And Hell.
Any kind of tree
That a graveyard
Could and can
Birth,
And be
Colonized by the last worms:
The last life
That seemed at least
A hint of real...
When I couldn't cool,
I find that I cannot burn,
Read,
Or breath,
As I now know,
The trees sprout -
From me,
My heart,
And my suicide,
While driving in my car,
My pretty little grave...


P.S. there was a little something about acid rain in there too. Acid rain = bad itch!
About this Entry
Home is the hunter...
Aug. 2nd, 2006 @ 09:18 am Ready for some More...?
Current Location: In a storm...
Current Mood: apatheticapathetic
Current Music: Yeah Yeah Yeahs, "Phenomenon"
I threw my TV out the window today. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the war, maybe both. I used to be the first person to readily accept and understand a need to fight. What happened? Why do I feel the way I do? Why do I NEED the peace? I've thought a lot lately about having children, what kind of world can I give them? It doesn't seem like much of one...


"Future's Crusade"


Thunder
Lulls the day away,
Reminiscent
Of a bombed out
Baghdad night.
The "gods" pound the sands,
Where the echoes
Have finally made it here,
And far away
In the form of a storm,
Prelude
To the fires that will once again
Erupt,
Resolve,
And galvanize
The fools,
And greatest joker of them all:
The so-called "free-" world's
Leader.
I'm here,
They're there.
I'm alive,
They may or may not be.
Regardless,
The clock ticks for us all,
And for some,
Just a little bit quicker.
The thunder will end,
And so may the bombs.
But I know,
We all know,
Event he fools know -
More death can be made,
Readied,
And dropped,
Giving way to the thunder,
To begin once again...


Just a little thought...maybe not quite little...
About this Entry
guitar