cocoa did her nails. then she did mine. she told me how happy i made her dad. she was a working girl and a high class escort. kept in a fancy hotel. SF. Civic Center. i was friends with her dad. Market Street felt alive and dead simultaneously. how could it be? i wondered what life was like. i lost my job and family and forgot how to pray. life was beginning to make sense.
Showing posts with label 2009. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2009. Show all posts
Wednesday, 31 October 2018
Tuesday, 15 October 2013
The day the dining room table lost all popularity
America 2009. A year i filed down and compressed for easy retrieval. No time machine needed. Just a can opener. Contents preserved in a secret preservative recipe.
A partial list of contents:
red vines
chocolate lucky charms (magically suspicious)
wildhorse cig filters
ambien and vinegar base
Embedded on a portable storage device, on a bed of lettuce. From a head of lettuce, intangible. Probability equations of course were lost in translation. The unzipping of the full body suit. Probability became as dead to mathematics as Latin was to language. The odds of this statement being true, were known to be high. Gamblers gambled...and still lost. They tucked their leftover singles, reluctantly, on the B-side of her G-string, to the sad key of E minor.
2009 thus unpacked - what did it represent anymore? ... Seemed encouraging. Music penetrated my everything. Seasons tended to be blended. Winters on ice. Summers were generally not so hot and not so nice. Like writers experiencing blocks. People of substance endured them anyway. Substances were often involved, on the dating scene. Substances on a night out with any person of questionable substance, directly caused symmetric convolution. Translation? the convolution kernel would be symmetric across its zero point.
Doors sometimes revolved. Some who found themselves in revolving doors, also happened to be of the subset of the census who found themselves utterly discouraged to the point of crashing by the very mention of anything impacting the convolution kernel's zero point. Thankfully, neither you nor me.
Ecosystems often were impacted, too, in 2009. Both internal and external ecosystems. Either dissolved or evolved. Costly checking accounts were erroneously freed by a stubborn corporate culture way too far into the black. Back to black was an unknown concept back then. 2009. Credit cards given freely to anyone who was not fiscally unsound aka poor aka in need of a fucking credit card. Checking in often preceded and followed, checking out. Soon due to a conservative movement to decentralize government and put Sarah Palin in power, there would be no checking in at all. Only checking out. And everyone and my bad self checked the fuck out. Swearing aloud became commonplace, especially in liberal google plus circle infancy.
TVs everywhere hosted purportedly independent families everywhere. The dining room table (as a form for function) lost all popularity. Despite immaculate credibility. At least someone was doing the dishes. TVs hosted families. A subset grew into a superset. Television set (itself) to the task of Interplanetary Expressing its bad self to the surrounding planets in a vacuum-sealed space capsule. Today interplanetary aliens are still staring down the fork of a strange plug attached to a ridiculous,useless device. Earth looks bad. Mars (earth's sponsor) turns a deeper shade of red.
This unzipped post is to be continued at a time yet to be determined by the no-name almost famous author and blogger extraordinaire, who has reached a zero point of her own particular patience kernel. And thankfully so, remarked the always difficult to impress and ever so fashionable, Zoe.
A partial list of contents:
red vines
chocolate lucky charms (magically suspicious)
wildhorse cig filters
ambien and vinegar base
Embedded on a portable storage device, on a bed of lettuce. From a head of lettuce, intangible. Probability equations of course were lost in translation. The unzipping of the full body suit. Probability became as dead to mathematics as Latin was to language. The odds of this statement being true, were known to be high. Gamblers gambled...and still lost. They tucked their leftover singles, reluctantly, on the B-side of her G-string, to the sad key of E minor.
2009 thus unpacked - what did it represent anymore? ... Seemed encouraging. Music penetrated my everything. Seasons tended to be blended. Winters on ice. Summers were generally not so hot and not so nice. Like writers experiencing blocks. People of substance endured them anyway. Substances were often involved, on the dating scene. Substances on a night out with any person of questionable substance, directly caused symmetric convolution. Translation? the convolution kernel would be symmetric across its zero point.
Doors sometimes revolved. Some who found themselves in revolving doors, also happened to be of the subset of the census who found themselves utterly discouraged to the point of crashing by the very mention of anything impacting the convolution kernel's zero point. Thankfully, neither you nor me.
Ecosystems often were impacted, too, in 2009. Both internal and external ecosystems. Either dissolved or evolved. Costly checking accounts were erroneously freed by a stubborn corporate culture way too far into the black. Back to black was an unknown concept back then. 2009. Credit cards given freely to anyone who was not fiscally unsound aka poor aka in need of a fucking credit card. Checking in often preceded and followed, checking out. Soon due to a conservative movement to decentralize government and put Sarah Palin in power, there would be no checking in at all. Only checking out. And everyone and my bad self checked the fuck out. Swearing aloud became commonplace, especially in liberal google plus circle infancy.
TVs everywhere hosted purportedly independent families everywhere. The dining room table (as a form for function) lost all popularity. Despite immaculate credibility. At least someone was doing the dishes. TVs hosted families. A subset grew into a superset. Television set (itself) to the task of Interplanetary Expressing its bad self to the surrounding planets in a vacuum-sealed space capsule. Today interplanetary aliens are still staring down the fork of a strange plug attached to a ridiculous,useless device. Earth looks bad. Mars (earth's sponsor) turns a deeper shade of red.
This unzipped post is to be continued at a time yet to be determined by the no-name almost famous author and blogger extraordinaire, who has reached a zero point of her own particular patience kernel. And thankfully so, remarked the always difficult to impress and ever so fashionable, Zoe.
Saturday, 16 March 2013
Saturday november two thousand nine special
Nonfiction: (for more nonfiction,
go to kissilent.wordpress.com )
All i got this morning, i hope to give. i might be runnin on fumes, but i wanna live. Here comes Carlos, to bless us with egg mcmuffin. A crystal clear morning. The saturday november two thousand nine special. Corner of macarthur and telegraph. Real time. Seven hours nineteen minutes and who knows how many seconds accumulate like pennies in my change purse.
Cold. The mufflers give away ignitions in the silence behind double pane imperial motel glass. We sit by the single window. The aircon, crankin' heat. My ass warms the seat. Two gentle men, my friends, my mechanics. Carlos and Freddie. We let the nutritional statistics fall away. Throw some lil wayne in the frying pan. Rip out and hand you the shit. A dreamy date with an egg mcmuffin, on a cloud. Damn! you the shit. Fast food morning with fab 4 Freddie. Out on the back of the harley, headin home to get ready. Gotta go to work, no brakes. Kick that shit into fifth. Fabulous! Feel the torque as she takes.
Insane or sane, the world she's just the same. We are the ones who need to change. Learn how to manage and balance energy. Take the basics: energy 101. I saw and tried to catch her there. Happened somewhere between 7th street san francisco and oakland, downtown. Somewhere near the civic center. Somewhere underground. Relegated to some subway station lost and found. I got adrenaline cause i have 4 days wide open here and the biggest heart to share. Plenty of time to heat up and cool down. Plenty of time 2 find the right split of antifreeze and H2O. Plenty of time to care.
Leaves you wholly satiated, these cool urban mornings. Ready for the hunger strike. Heart calibrated to hold center. Beat rock solid and rock steady. Unfaded. Underestimated. Ready. All i got left in me after a couple hard days getting harder, current of feeling getting stronger, up higher and maintained: self-centered and contained.
Still drops off to face the other side of reality. All the sadness, the fatalities. All the tears angels ever cried in a rainy day on International Boulevard. East Oakland. Count rising into triple digits this year. I swear... the painful seeing what i seen, being where i been, doing what i do...like gettin' lucky to catch the sun on the rise. Taste the morning dew. I am full with all that i'm always craving. I am mad to the furthest you can extend. I am mad! 2 point of raving.
I am alone and going inward. Contract and then expand. Like lungs like breath like life. Now i'm going outward. What i say to you, what i say to self-- now now now it's not always the case. You offer what u can. You build your skills in the community. You try and ask for space. I have no motive to change the communique; i take it, no hesitation. Not always pretty, not always nice.Whats gotta be said, is what i gotta say. Realtime with no delay. A window into the moment, and hopefully no pain.
by Katya Mills
November, 2009
Creative Commons licensed
go to kissilent.wordpress.com )
All i got this morning, i hope to give. i might be runnin on fumes, but i wanna live. Here comes Carlos, to bless us with egg mcmuffin. A crystal clear morning. The saturday november two thousand nine special. Corner of macarthur and telegraph. Real time. Seven hours nineteen minutes and who knows how many seconds accumulate like pennies in my change purse.
Cold. The mufflers give away ignitions in the silence behind double pane imperial motel glass. We sit by the single window. The aircon, crankin' heat. My ass warms the seat. Two gentle men, my friends, my mechanics. Carlos and Freddie. We let the nutritional statistics fall away. Throw some lil wayne in the frying pan. Rip out and hand you the shit. A dreamy date with an egg mcmuffin, on a cloud. Damn! you the shit. Fast food morning with fab 4 Freddie. Out on the back of the harley, headin home to get ready. Gotta go to work, no brakes. Kick that shit into fifth. Fabulous! Feel the torque as she takes.
Insane or sane, the world she's just the same. We are the ones who need to change. Learn how to manage and balance energy. Take the basics: energy 101. I saw and tried to catch her there. Happened somewhere between 7th street san francisco and oakland, downtown. Somewhere near the civic center. Somewhere underground. Relegated to some subway station lost and found. I got adrenaline cause i have 4 days wide open here and the biggest heart to share. Plenty of time to heat up and cool down. Plenty of time 2 find the right split of antifreeze and H2O. Plenty of time to care.
Leaves you wholly satiated, these cool urban mornings. Ready for the hunger strike. Heart calibrated to hold center. Beat rock solid and rock steady. Unfaded. Underestimated. Ready. All i got left in me after a couple hard days getting harder, current of feeling getting stronger, up higher and maintained: self-centered and contained.
Still drops off to face the other side of reality. All the sadness, the fatalities. All the tears angels ever cried in a rainy day on International Boulevard. East Oakland. Count rising into triple digits this year. I swear... the painful seeing what i seen, being where i been, doing what i do...like gettin' lucky to catch the sun on the rise. Taste the morning dew. I am full with all that i'm always craving. I am mad to the furthest you can extend. I am mad! 2 point of raving.
I am alone and going inward. Contract and then expand. Like lungs like breath like life. Now i'm going outward. What i say to you, what i say to self-- now now now it's not always the case. You offer what u can. You build your skills in the community. You try and ask for space. I have no motive to change the communique; i take it, no hesitation. Not always pretty, not always nice.Whats gotta be said, is what i gotta say. Realtime with no delay. A window into the moment, and hopefully no pain.
by Katya Mills
November, 2009
Creative Commons licensed
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