4 NON BLONDES - WHAT´S UP ( live )

Old Milwaukee Beer Commercial, 1980's

   
   "Old Milwaukee Beer Commercial, 1980's"
   
   Way back in them Southern Baptist years, yearning to be a man and date a Playboy Bunny with morals and mirth; plus, plenty of cool couth and love for her lover, there was this Old Milwaukee Beer Commercial, where manly men drank beer and cooked lobster or some meaty-tasting shit, and it was probably lathered in hot butter to make a savory and slippery mix for the digestive tract.
   Anyway, these dudes in the commercial said:  "Ya know guys--it doesn't get any better than this."
   Well, in the 5th grade, my Southern Baptist teacher replied to us concerning our need to be Charismatics, enjoying Scotch On The Rocks in Heaven, saying:  "Yes, yes it does get better than beer and lobster."
   I think so too.  Lobster cuts through my colon like a chainsaw.  

Liberty's Sparkle (24)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (24)"
   
   Faye was acting like a honey baked ham, goofballing it up, monopolizing the talk, just to get comfortable with herself; moreover, Liberty and Tom picked up on her vibrant vibe, laughed and listened, sweetly so.
   Faye was like mystically whispering to her supernatural (normally ultra natural, for her) friends and both star-glimmering night and effulgent Moon:  "Bonanza Jellybean was sexually in tune--I'm just not ashamed; I own who I am."
   Tom asked:  "Who is Bonanza Jellybean?"
   Liberty blurted out, and to somewhat selfishly show she knew on a literary level:  "EVEN COWGIRLS GET THE BLUES, a classic novel, quirky and elegant.  Jellybean suffers a type of crucifixion, metaphorically, and the book is a lovely ride through the peaks and valleys of life."
   Faye took over again, saying:  "I've never been with a girl, but it haunts me."
   Tom was like:  "So, I' safe on that one--I can dig it."
   They all blushed, and Faye even smiled, meekly accepting the benign jocularity aimed in her adored direction, knowing they were crafted by a sweet and merry heart, in whatever kinda but definitely a nice way.  

GRAVITY'S RAINBOW (1973); plus, Wernher von Braun

   
   "GRAVITY'S RAINBOW (1973); plus, Wernher von Braun"

   I adore seeing a certain medical man bi-monthly--there, we discuss my wily weirdness--of course my man; moreover, complex novels like Pynchon's V, where alligators get loose in the sewers, and Tom Robbins with all his eloquently forged literature for us human creatures crafted bizarre; still, it is not as quirky as reading Philip K. Dick.  
   There is great empathy for those that still read print media, whether pulp fiction or the ARCHIE COMICS reprinted for the flustered masses noticed at the check-out lines in grocery markets.  At least, that's my conclusion concerning meeting with physicians and their supposed smartness.  
   Anyway, here is a quote from Wernher von Braun, as mentioned by Pynchon in 1973's GRAVITY'S RAINBOW, it somewhat goes, and from a space engineer and scientist:
   "Nature does not know extinction; all it knows is transformation.  Everything science has taught me, and continues to teach me, strengthens my belief in the continuity of spiritual existence after death."
   Thus, be nice, or Santa puts coal in your brilliantly ornamented and lovely stocking.       

That dude can taste colors

   
   "That dude can taste colors"
   
Fabricating and freakishly forging, all over and within him, a flowery design,
Not to be adorned like a lady or a mime,
Yet to imbibe the energy into his quicker-working salivary gland,
Healing his wilted and withered frame, taking a brilliant-hued stand;
Indeed, this is a type of sparkly meditation,
Used in many a metaphysical nation,
Like in the States, where the underground does read urban fantasy,
Returning to a time when pissing in the potted plants after a sixer equals suburban free.  

Liberty's Sparkle (23)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (23)"
   
   Faye drove her jeep, afforded by a waitress job at a local eatery, where coffee was poured with quicksilver, eggs were fried with swift intention, but the talk was clean and offered a bit of dandy-like things, making her feel a bit proud for holding down a decent job, all things considered.
   Anyway, she had fought an eternal battle, it seemed, over the last 24 hours within her pierced yet somewhat smart brain, concluding that Liberty needed no more negative energy, and that she (Faye) would always be a pal of sorts, though knowing plenty of Liberty's time would seem stolen by the weird presence of Tom.  In the big scheme--who gives a crap, she thought.  It was just nice to have Liberty as a friend, for the golden girl oozed forth regularity and calm, something Faye was drawn to, though pierced and tattooed beyond normality herself.
   So, pulling her jeep up in front of Tom's mobile home, seeing the twosome (Liberty and Tom) sitting on chaise lounges and socializing, Faye did not emanate with envy; on the contrary, with total cool she exited her vehicle, making a swift saunter towards her friends, and started shooting the shit.  
   Yes, yes, yes--all three of them were FRIENDS, now and forever.  

Adolescents and Old People

   
   "Adolescents and Old People"
   
   Went to McDonald's to get my elderly mother some fries; specifically, large fries; plus, myself--a Big Mac, was having the weremeat attack--you guys know what I'm say'n.  
   Anyway, teenage girls in front of me, wanting a specially forged beverage--some type of coffee with a certain number of ice cubes in in to match their numerology beliefs, and I have reverence for those that dabble in benign metaphysical things.
   Regardless, the stress of the wait on my withered yet wily frame, now in its mid-40's, well it was all I could do to stand, wanting to mercurially rush through things and quickly bring my mother back some carbs for weight gain.
   Next, a shitload of kids came in, getting in my space, but dubbed me "Sir" and that was really cute and all, but the generational differences really freak me.  The loudness.  The bravado of eternal forever, like Peter Pan happening in your aging and leathery face, but some artists appreciate the lines.
   I dunno.  Just want to read the newspaper, watch the local news, and get lost in the silence of growing towards the grave.  How morbid and macabre?  Nah, I'm a realist, but crazy enough to still believe in God.