the deal with commitment

It's easier to miss somebody forever than it is to spend the day with them, every day for 20 years

world without end (Americana)

There are cops wearing white gloves directing traffic at McDonald's at lunchtime. Are they paid in hamburgers?
It's so easy to do nothing all the time.
There is so much going on at once.
a mechanic changes the oil in someone's Honda
a thirteen year old has a birthday party at their favorite pizza place
a man gets found guilty of murder
people wait in an opthamologist's office with seashore theme
someone auditions for a breakfast cereal commercial
biology lecture runs late
dog gets flea dip-has allergic reaction
people sit in traffic because of road construction
a 100 year old woman dies in nursing home. No family to notify
a 49 year old lady buys silver thread at JoAnn's fabrics for her daughter's prom dress
Oprah gets her make up done
two guys and a girl take a run around a city park
the waiter is late to work again, and will be fired after his shift is over
a police officer gets yelled at by his girlfriend
someone is working on their novel which will, in time, be a huge success
a young woman breaks a promise to herself and calls her ex
three friends share a joint after work in grocery store
a redheaded baby boy is born two weeks early
7th grader practices clarinet in living room after snack
laundry sits wet in broken machine while owner of clothes talks on cell phone outside
the girl at the mall kiosk who sells fake hair just found out she has chlamydia
choreography rehearsal of music video starts in five minutes
man drinks malt liquor and goes through garbage for scraps of food with poop in his pants
a bride-to-be leafs through a glossy magazine while she gets her toenails painted light pink

teenager mirror

you have a bad face
and acne prone oily skin
maybe you should die

one little one big

The first death that affected my heart was that of John Belushi.
I was in my yellow bedroom, listening to the only rock n' roll radio station in town, when I heard the news. I'd never been west of West Virginia, but there was something about Hollywood and heroin that resonated deep within me.
My mother and I had to make a late night trip to Safeway so I could run in and get her some maxi pads. Once in the car, she was quiet and I was quiet. She was always quiet, ever since her breakup with my kung fu instructor, but I think she was quiet in a sort of sympathetic way on that night. She lived her life by the code of remorse and regret, so she was able to appreciate my pain at being born too late to ever have a relationship with John Belushi.
Two broken hearts, chugging down the main street of a one horse town in a small yellow Honda.

I was about to call it a day and find a cool doorway to sit in when someone finally pulled over for me. The trucker was redhaired this time. The stocky, dirty bitten fingernail variety redhead. His hat was dark green and white, and had the logo of some farm equipment company. He looked about 26 I guess, but you can't ever tell about someone's age. People live in all kinds of strange ways that usually either age them quickly or preserve some feature in a tricky way.
I used to take rides from anybody who'd pull over, but then my friend Marie got killed by some guy driving a rented Jaguar, so I only take rides from truckers now, and I always pretend to call my fiance Brett when I get in the truck and give him the license plate and the name of the road we're on. I stay on for ten minutes at a time, having fake conversations with him, fake fights. I sometimes even act like Brett wants to talk to the driver, saying "no honey, this driver has to keep his concentration on the road. OK. I'll tell him....my fiance says that if anything happens to me he'll kill you....He's VERY overprotective. He's a State Trooper. He's so mad at me for hitchhiking!!"
But I don't bother to do that anymore. By my appearance it is plain to see that there is no state trooper fiance worried about me. Not now.
The trucker was quiet and mean. I could tell he was mean the minute he opened the door for me. Even though sometimes people are seemingly doing nice things, they can still be mean. And sometimes, people can do very bad things, and still be nice people. This I learned a long time ago.

truck story haiku

old men together
cigarettes flick back and forth
as they tell their lies

Popular Culture gives me Itchy Rash

When you've got Katie Couric and Al Roker saying "bling bling", you know you're in trouble. Now everybody's hard, everybody's a gangster. Everybody's a pimp, a playa. We're all living in one giant moldy container of macaroni salad.
Ashlee Simpson is a big punk rocker? Avril Lavigne is an anarchist skateboarder?
Heroin addicted rockers now have throngs of healthy whitebread teenagers imitating their haircuts and fashion sense, but without any of the self destruction, dammit. Paris Hilton didn't invent the phrase "that's hot". That one was coined by the gays, and it's been around for a l o n g t i m e.
I blame the stylists of the world for all this. They are the links btwn the everyday culture of the street and the insulated world of rich and famous people who don't have a fucking clue about "what's hot". It's the same way that inner city loft living became so popular for Yuppies...the same people who drove out all the starving artists in SF...they watched their TV and saw a really cool looking place on that raspberry flavored instant coffee commercial and decided they wanted to live in a place like that. But once they bought the building they realized that there was a damn club across the street, and that just didn't work for them because they have to get up at 6am to commute to their high paying corporate job. So they petitioned and had the club closed down. "There, that's better! Now I can live in my inner city loft without all the noise and ugliness of downtown living!"
I used to be good at anticipating what would be next for pop culture. Now I don't know, and I don't care.