Still on the Edge in Sumas

oooh...blogging ensues...

When Good People Make Bad Art

So I was in Goodwill the other day. Like that's a surprise...something bad needs to happen to those artists who are unable to distinguish their good work from their bad. And they need to know how and when to walk away from their bad. YOU WOULD KNOW. Probably NOW. Okay I wasn't in the store yet, and it was VV, but I'm in the parking lot in my truck and this lady drives up across from me with a toddler, right? Its a little red car, maybe Geo or whatever.

Speaking of second hand, I couldn't part with Mark's bathroom curtains yesterday. I'd even gone so far as to leave them on top of the old bulletin board from my bedroom, there on the asphalt next to the Value Village drop off site in Bellingham. I mean, they lay there for a second, there in the parking lot, and I don't know, I had to go back and retrieve them. They look sorta forlorn now, still, sitting on the floor here in my office. I don't recall them looking particularly forlorn or not, then, on the asphalt I mean. Mark took them down, and now I know not what to do with them. Him on his second chemo and all.

I can't find my Ebay for Dummies book anymore. Maybe I loaned it out. I need a system. A sign-up sheet or whatnot. Something reciting Raymond Carver maybe. Nonsense on paper.

So here I am...

1. You can alter your own surroundings.
2. Memory. You first remember something that pulls you away from 1.
3. Further distraction ensues.
4. Hopefully by now you recall relationships.
5. Charles was actually up there at 2.
6. Phuck.
7. Wish you came more.
8. Fade away.
9. Fame.
10. Return to 1.

Cheers, you'all.

I can honestly say and yes this is bragging that today I've done the most I could possibly doo. Forever even.

A list would simply not do. But its okay, you didn't want to read that anyway.

LOTS of 3 feet or shorter extensions. IS prayer dead? A drama queen enfolds a silver bracelet in yellow ribbon. A meaningless note someday destined to become email spam unfolds. Violets are blue.

Tomorrow the aptmt. And the tax guy. And Goodwill.

Jesus has a son. And the Davinci Code did it all. That is, all that "The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon" didn't do first. Gawd. Novel by Formula.

Black light working wonders. Outdoor transformers needing work. Gathered tools for replacing mailboxes. Ending sentences with the wrong word, and not. A reminder to submit your W-2 and 1099. A worm moon, or was that last night? A load of clean green for the dump. A dead spruce in a plastic pot. Concrete crumbled on the driveway. A cat face rebuilt, and Roy's face in the attic, and all that colorless space to make more faces out of. And me.

And me making tea for me, and not thinking to offer Mark any. Him winning big at poker. His poker face totally sucks, but only when he wants it to. And an external, 60gb hard drive! Holy crap is that!

No really, there is something special, something inherent, in that novel (TMWFILWTM). A meaning of meaning, almost. A list of forever. A perfect sentence, maybe more than one.

OH and the Longhouse! JEeZuS people!!!!

Saw Jesus Camp the movie you'all shouldn't miss out on that one. Heavy shit that sticks to your drawers. Loved it.

Saw something called Mean Creek that was also heavy. GOod tho.

Saw something else about this retired rock star hermit crazoid living with an escaped looney tune. They have a pretty fun time like, twice. The name will come to me one day. Filmed in B.C.

Meanwhile young Clark Kent of Smallville is unable to have sex with Lana, for fear of blowing the back of her throat off or something.