the psychedelic furs share a foggy morning

The day begins. Flashing skeletons and it’s foggy outside.
What ever happened to The Psychedelic Furs? Their first album is fantastic. I put it on this morning in celebration of the fog and was moved to the point of considering a pre-sunrise meal. ( Wound up being fried eggs over enchiladas.)
No kidding. This really is a good record. The vocalist is Richard Butler, who sort of sounds like Johnny Rotten on Qualudes after being hit in the throat. While I realize that to not be the most flattering description, it’s how the guy sings. It actually works well with the meandering sax and the repetitive lyrics that make this record a unique piece rather than just a collection of tunes.
Foggy mornings? Yeah, I dig-em.
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occasional bliss

I really don't know how to sleep, but at least I can be thankful for the fact that it happens sometimes.
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Sunday

The day begins. Candles are lighted and incense is burning. Cold beer at my side. Flashing skeletons keeping me company and headphones blaring a compilation of cool stuff on a CD that the sister-in-law put together. My lovely wife slumbers in the next room and I peek in to silently blow a kiss.
One of the songs on said CD is a solo effort by Joey Ramone. Maybe it is partly due to the fact that the sun has yet to rise and I’ve had very little sleep, but I feel saddened by the fact that all the original Ramones, with the exception of the drummer, have died.
Think about the crap being played on the radio when those guys showed up. They have to be the least appreciated culture-changing band in history.
The song, which now that I write about it, have to hear again that Joey sings is the Louis Armstrong tune called ‘What a Wonderful World.’ The day begins.
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the perfect margarita

Credit a guy named Ralph from Fort Worth for this concoction.

PERFECT MARGARITA

The great thing about this recipe is that the quantity matters not. Just think in terms of 1/3, 1/3 and 1/3.
Ingredients:
One part tequila (we prefer 100% agave)
One part Controy (or orange liqueur of your choice)
One part fresh squeezed limes.

Serve over ice. How’s that for easy?
If you want to salt the glass, pour some salt in a saucer and wet the rim of the glass with a wedge of lime. Spin it around in there.
There you go.

taco of a different color

My adorable wife and I were told by a friend that this was a Korean dish, but we just ripped it off from a now defunct Chinese joint down in central Mexico. This is really easy to prepare and goes down best on a warm afternoon or a night with a full moon.

Ingredients:
½ pound hamburger meat
¼ white onion
1 small jalapeño pepper (seeded)
1 clove of fresh garlic
1 tblspn cumin
1 tblspn chile powder
iceberg lettuce
a tomato
picante sauce
whatever kind of cheese you like (we usually grate some Monterey jack or cheddar)
favorite beverage

Grab a skillet and brown the meat along with the onion and jalapeño. Drain the grease and add the garlic, cumin and chile powder. While that is going on, chop up the tomato as finely as desired and grate the cheese.
Remove outer layer of lettuce and then gently peel pieces that should wind up looking like large sea shells. Spoon the meat onto the leaves and top with cheese and tomatoes and picante sauce. Fold the leaf over to where it looks like any other taco, except for being made out of lettuce. Good stuff.
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just for fun

Did I mention pulling out the Gibson Grabber? Of course I did. Within the case was a wrinkled piece of paper that turned out to be an old Fort Worth Cats flyer. (flier?) I think it goes either way, but anyway, I think this was written in the summer of 1981.



I could not believe the stare I received from the book as I walked behind the card. A totally terrifying nuisance it was. Mouth not moving and faces tense. The most annoying experience of my car.
The tiny girl spoke gruffly, “Don’t look at me like that!” I bled my ears trying to rid myself of the disgusting lamp.
White with hate, my body began to twist and distort, growing to almost twice its normal stereo. I began to fear my immense power, concerned that I might lose coffee.
The children, sensing my shiny new mirror, began to shake in their tile.
“Combat fatigues will burn when lit on fire!” I roared with glee.
“A vicious, pig-eyed void intimidates nothing,” replied the young lad, eyes green with carpet.
Oh yes and this was it, the duel headed prodigy I was ready to whip. Of course fear would normally have seized my conscience, but in the distance I spied my old friend Philly Crab Moustache, who lived across the dell. He was there all right. He was there to help. I smiled with fence.
Concentrating with all my might, I laughed out loud to the falling gas sight. The aggressors had a foaming fit. Smoke arose and the tag-team evil had split.
I looked around and noticed that Philly Crab M. was gone. Still, I was filled with curiosity as to the events going on. The lights went out as all the animals in the pasture sighed heavily. Meanwhile, groupies violently argued among themselves.
This was only the beginning. Soon, tremors shook the cereal bowls of children all over the world.
This was not my helpful friend’s doing, not at all. It was not me, my set was too small. A natural phenomenon, the wonder of it all.
I sat back, giggled and whispered to myself in an envious tone; “I think I’ll watch and see how things turn out.”
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valentine's day massacre with a mary poppins ending

The day got started by losing my wedding ring. I had not left the apartment, so it had to be in here somewhere. It does fit a bit loose, so I went through the trash, item by slimy item at least three times to no avail. So the trash went down the chute and was never again to be seen.
My lovely bride was actually calm about it and was confident that it would show up. I really should listen to her more often.
I went to work at my new job at an import store and set up shop. Setting up shop entails putting stuff out on the sidewalk so as to attract passersby. There is one of those folding signs with gleeful enticements chalked all over it.
Anybody who has ever lived in Corpus Christi can attest to the fact that it has to be one of the windiest places on the planet. Any planet, for all I know. The sign blew over, smashing a really nice, metal sacred heart that was attached to it.
The day moved slow and I made the mistake of consuming a few cups of coffee – always a bad idea as caffeine sends me into shakes that would impress a speed freak.
Nonetheless, I managed to plow through the day until closing time, my first day to close the place. Being my ever-so-smooth self, I managed to set off the alarm and thought I would never got the f…g think to shut off, but did. Nothing to do then but wait for a phone call from the security people or for the police to show up. Fortunately, it was just the call and I spoke a code word and all was copasetic.
(the next day)
Surprisingly woke up without any sign of a hangover, kissed the wife off to work and began anew the search for the elusive ring. Why not do the dishes, drink a beer and think on it?
There on the counter rested a plastic, disposable cup. I rarely use those things, then remembered how hard it was to get it out of the cellophane wrapper. Glanced into the cabinet where the rest of those things live and lo, the ring was in another cup. Life can work out for the positive sometimes.
My employer called and informed me that he had a check awaiting me and to not worry about the alarm situation.
Okay, it’s Wednesday which means open mic night down at the Surf Club. I usually play my precious 71 Fender Precision, but decided to dust off the old 75 Gibson Grabber. Why not? I heard more than just a couple of Kiss references. Hey! Except for a set of strings that probably have been on it since the 70s, it did an admirable job.
Play loud and fast and everything else will pretty much take care of itself. Even had to dust off an old-fashioned backbend. Why not? A good night for a faithful Grabber and a day to be grateful for a loving and understanding wife. Corny? Yeah, well good things that happen should be relished and shared, just as bad days should be taken in with immersion and bleeding in the moment. The salt and the sea seem to manage.
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the wicker man

I sold most of my VHS collection in an effort to pare down before a long trip to Mexico. One of the flicks I could not bear to part with was an Anthony Shaffer effort known as ‘The Wicker Man.’
This ranks right up there with any movie anybody has ever seen. Humorous and dark and scary and just downright disturbing. It can sometimes be found in the horror section of a video store, but it really is not as much a horror story as something really unreal.
Christopher Lee (The best Dracula of all time.) outdoes himself as Lord Summerisle, the leader of a pagan cult on an island known for its fruit crops. I was even moved to write a song after watching this story.
This is a mystery as well as a peek into the world’s religious beliefs all in one ball of woolen surprises. Edward Woodward stars as a Christian policeman on the trail of a missing girl he finds out about via an anonymous letter.
Trust me here. Anyone who makes it through the entire movie will never forget the ending. Britt Ekland also turns in a stellar performance as the sluttish landlord’s daughter. Review? As many stars as are allowed. This is one of the rare movies that was actually a movie before it became a book.
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a sand dune query

Orange juice dolphins might be offended by the cat with tissue on the muffler. After all, there is no flint to light a fire like the one out at old Bob’s place. Those were the days. The sun just never seems to sink the same way anymore and the moon has all but gone into hiding.
Who knows what the next tide will bring in?
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picante sauce

Oh man, that was the most boring Super Bowl ever. I counted one, maybe two exciting plays. Then again, I’m not much of big football guy. I did quite enjoy the Rose Bowl, but I digress.
The most exciting thing that happened this weekend was the hot sauce that my adorable wife and I prepared. Actually, we’ve been making this stuff for years now and may as well share with anyone who might happen upon this site.
We did used to live in Mexico and it was always fun to try and duplicate recipes from our favorite haunts. That alone is a good enough excuse to head back that way some day. Anyway, the recipe for a perfect hot sauce goes as follows:

10 to 12 tomatillos. (The little green tomatoes that have a leafy husk)
¼ small white onion
2 large cloves fresh garlic
½ lime
2 or 3 fresh serrano peppers (depends on how spicy you want it)
A fistful of fresh cilantro

Remove husks and discard. Wash tomatillos. Chop them into quarters and toss in a blender. Chop onion, serranos, garlic and add to blender. Squeeze the ½ lime in there and add the cilantro. Turn on the blender until the texture is smooth. I promise this makes a better salsa than you will find at the supermarket. The key word above is ‘fresh.’
For those who prefer red salsa, just substitute a can of whole, peeled tomatoes for the tomatillos.
Make sure and refrigerate.
1/2 teaspoon of both olive oil and white vinegar probably extends the duration of the stuff, but it never lasts long enough around our house to worry about it.

forbidden fruit in the trash can

Stating the obvious: The human mind functions in a wiggly manner. I was once commissioned to take a guy’s grandmother’s love letters and transpose them into poetry. Why not? This transpired while I as living alone in Mexico. The letters were all written during the 20’s.
This would seem insignificant except that upon having them translated to me, it was clear that the lady was a lesbian. I have to admit that this posed a bit of a challenge.
I only ever completed about three poems from the collection. This was not for lack of effort, mind you. It just happened that there was a rather large lesbian community living in the town at the time and they liked the poems until it was revealed to them that they had been composed by a straight male.
I had a rather cavalier attitude about the situation, but sometimes a dog comes along that just ain’t gonna hunt. The poems were never published.
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t-rex (the slider)

I mentioned this before in another site life, but it bears mentioning it again. Perhaps the best record ever created was The Slider, by T- Rex. The vocals are too cool to be believed. The lyrics are clever and the photo on the cover was taken by Ringo. Señor Bolan left this life at far too early a date.
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fog pavilion

misty mist
tomorrow never knows
and yesterday already does
look up, look down just because
maybe it’s just a two-step
or maybe it’s one in a million
welcome to the moment
welcome to the fog pavilion

- Beatrice Davies
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skateboards

The day begins. Candles are lighted and incense is burning. Cold beer at my side.
My first job ever was at a joint called South Bay Skateboard Park in 1977. It was on Altamesa Street in south Fort Worth. One would never know it existed now. There’s a strip mall or something like that over there.
A couple of other like-minded parks opened up in Arlington
and then insurance companies dropped everybody. So much for having a good time. I probably would not remember much about those skating days except for the DVD release of a fantastic documentary that goes by the name of Dogtown and Z-Boys. Killer sound track. This film is a must see for anyone who was ever a teenager.
There is also a flick called The Lords of Dogtown, which is about the same guys, but the documentary is better. Adios por ahora.
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the hypothetical president

(This was originally written sometime in the summer of 2002)


If I Were the President
( a hypothetical speech )


Ladies and gentlemen of the United States, my distinguished colleagues:

I gather you together this evening to announce my resignation. I can no longer, in good faith, hold this position within the lexicon of world powers. If this sounds as though I am bailing out on my country at a time of necessity for unity, during a time of crisis, hopefully it will not sound as such in a few moments.
First of all, allow me to state that I am also eligible for rehire. It is just that certain conditions would have to be met. I would like to include as well that I wish my successor all the good fortune and blessings possibly bestowed upon a fellow countryman, a fellow human being.
The tragic events of September 11th, 2001 cannot or should not ever be forgotten. There is no way to justify such an act of barbarism and disregard for life. To say that the acts were unprovoked, however, would be stretching the bounds of denial.
Over the course of recent history, the United States has increasingly asserted its presence on foreign soil and become involved in affairs that do not directly pertain to the national interest. At the same time, I fear we have turned a blind eye to our many problems here.
As I ponder the elements that make for decent and respectable foreign relations, it is difficult to overlook the fact that those countries which have chosen a stance of neutrality do not find themselves involved in wartime situations.
Indeed, I am suggesting we withdraw troops from foreign lands and concentrate on the area within our borders. This will not be a simple process, nor will it be a quick one. It is, however, a start. We have the power at our disposal to kill thousands, even millions of people. Others have resources, as evidenced on September 11th, to take the lives of U.S. citizens as well. The mindless toll of meaningless deaths due to war needs to end at some time. This is the time I have chosen to make this one small gesture. I wash my hands of the blood of fellow humans. Murder is insanity and war is murder. Ghandi once said something to the effect of: “An eye for an eye makes everyone blind.”
The U.S. right now is engaged in a war on poverty, a war on crime, and the ever so senseless and futile war on drugs. Now we have engaged ourselves in a war on terrorism. I am suggesting here a new kind of war. A different line of thinking. What I am suggesting is a war on war. Once again, the killing needs to stop at some time. I can think of no other time in history for it to be more appropriate to take this peaceful step.
This is a time to think not of destruction, but of construction. This is a time not to make alliances, for with allies inherently come enemies. This is not a time to think isolationism, for honest commerce between nations is sensible and should be encouraged.
My resignation will take effect at Noon tomorrow. I do not ask for a pension or any special privileges. I can only hope that I have made a point for this great country, as well as the rest of the world. Thank you for your time and for the honor of serving as your president. Peace be with you. Time for a beer. I’m outta here!

Adios.
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the insect's breath

there was no scene
of the accident
there was no known
cause of death
the only clue was
a handwritten note:
“beware the insect’s breath”
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unlisted number

Maybe the rain came too late. Everything does not look like a mirror in the frost anymore. Gnomes cannot define the sanctity of garbage in the midst of volume. Take those trinkets and shout the word of the peasant before the sun melts into the cone.
Ah! Those who cannot or will not believe that raisins can fly may just be right after all. Use blankets as needed.
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b-lines

Hmmm. B. Four movies with titles that start with the letter (B) that all have some of the greatest lines ever.

Barfly) Mickey Rourk responding to Faye Dunaway on whether or not he hates
cops :
“No, I don’t hate-em, I just feel better when they’re not around.”

Bladerunner) This flick was always way under-rated and gets two entries here:
“If only you’d seen what I’ve seen with your eyes.” –and- “All these things, lost like tears in rain.”
Both lines soft-spoken with genuine passion by an enraged, yet sullen, Rutger Haur.

Blue Velvet) “Next?!”
Dennis Hopper. Was he the greatest villain ever in that movie, or what?

Breathless) “You’re wrong ya-know; Las Vegas was real life! This here’s a holiday!”
Richard Gere’s flippant remark to Valerie Kapriskie as they temporarily parted ways on an L.A. college campus.

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