tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32379280017396269842011-07-28T23:45:21.351-07:00Drunkards Book Club, a place to keep up with the readings and post original writing to share with the groupubiquitousnoreply@blogger.comBlogger511100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-84136371558896376432010-09-04T15:16:00.000-07:002010-09-04T15:17:21.893-07:00hey book clubers, check out this photo website http://www.ubickubick.com<br />thanks!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-8413637155889637643?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubiquitousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-64313109841415128662010-08-31T02:10:00.001-07:002010-08-31T02:10:22.102-07:00<div>She's seen in seaweeds grip</div><div>tightly wrapped </div><div>barnacles hold onto her so tight</div><div>help us </div><div>pull her out of the seas slippery hands</div><div>we can clean her</div><div>we can stuff her</div><div>we can hold her</div><div>for all of her crimes</div><div><br /></div><div>I found another feather in your hair</div><div>the writings that come of it...</div><div>under the suns fire and our man made desires to control all that you are</div><div><br /></div><div>My spirit</div><div>Your son</div><div>their fathers all should be ashamed</div><div><br /></div><div>Play it ugly and dumb as long as someone has someone</div><div>and there's someone to save</div><div>like the woman we found in the sea</div><div>she glowed with green pods and leafs and string </div><div>conch she stars her stars near the barnacles cling</div><div>we pulled her out of the oceans crashing fist</div><div>I heard they propped her up on an alter forever to bless</div><div>Yes I hear </div><div>so you hear</div><div>that's the truth I guess</div><div><br /></div><div>We couldn't' count all the horses and soldiers that passed</div><div>with sown allegiance at the right of their chest</div><div><br /></div><div>All the dead that he drew</div><div>from the ink of this feather</div><div>had come from her head</div><div>and tickled them once lovers</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-6431310984141512866?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-65266238066697338762010-07-27T22:27:00.000-07:002010-07-27T22:40:58.208-07:00<div>It's ok, somebody cares</div><div><br /></div><div>We can go home </div><div>take all our things</div><div>put them in the street</div><div>refuse to eat</div><div>oh baby put your flower away</div><div>after you clean her off</div><div>from all that pushing around</div><div>I could go home and masturbate</div><div>to all the women we hate</div><div><br /></div><div>it's ok, it's ok, somebody cares</div><div><br /></div><div>Clean your plate</div><div>worship the planet and all it's traits</div><div><br /></div><div>it's ok, somebody cares</div><div><br /></div><div>Take my shoes off, this is the room</div><div>where you and I did all those things to who</div><div>give me that power then strip it away</div><div>play that game or just abstain</div><div>I've loved each woman that's held my hand</div><div>kissed my mouth and made me her man</div><div>and all those filthy little bitches</div><div>that can keep me up all night doing hand stands</div><div>I'll give you a bouquet of roses</div><div>don't you dare turn off the lights</div><div>first we take the moon</div><div>then the night</div><div>I'll replace the current currency</div><div>with your fire and my wood</div><div>no insurance plan would cover us</div><div>no law could do us any good</div><div>here's another empty barrel to fill with wine</div><div>let me in so we can build that empire tonight</div><div>I'll be the lover while you find a vase for the flowers</div><div>touch all her little hands when ever we're away</div><div><br /></div><div>oh it's ok, yes it's ok, somebody cares.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-6526623806669733876?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-69978407545381056452010-07-19T06:36:00.001-07:002010-07-19T06:36:37.478-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Peeking in came the light<br />the summer kept that night going<br />all the happenings happened<br />did you know everyone<br />making my own way<br />just doing my thing<br />she walked threw that dream<br />I took my place in line<br />running deep in muscle<br />that lines our back<br />loosing track of time<br />the circle kept us at attention<br />babe we ought a find all our things<br />gotta make up their minds<br />ballons with long strings<br />and kids in bikinis swimming<br />The summer woke<br />while I slept in<br />all the things did there thing<br />heavy breathing<br />with morning sun<br />beating out it's light<br />we make our day<br />just like we make up time</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-6997840754538105645?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-81294208692988274002010-06-29T03:17:00.000-07:002010-06-29T03:18:42.044-07:00<div>Sing us a song again</div><div>I'd like to sing along</div><div>Sneak a peak</div><div>Sink with me baby</div><div>here where it started</div><div>Drink up out</div><div>stumblehumblerumble</div><div>Such tough love</div><div>todays kiss</div><div>To listen and sing along</div><div>We live for you</div><div>The grandest of all</div><div>History is speaking</div><div>Keep it down please.</div><div>Peaks and valleys</div><div>Her prehistoric history</div><div>Lost with time</div><div>I eye and flirting</div><div>To the very beginning</div><div>When you leave us</div><div>Our ending</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-8129420869298827400?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-48328991265374600092010-06-29T03:14:00.000-07:002010-06-29T03:16:09.284-07:00<div>Beautiful sisters</div><div>Sidescapes and mountains</div><div>Vibrantly vibrant</div><div>Who could not look</div><div>Sweet copy and repeat</div><div>Step all over and inside</div><div>What's what…</div><div>Flags and signs</div><div>Directly from me to you</div><div>Bad dreams eating badder dreams</div><div>Something is watching</div><div>This family tree</div><div>Explode</div><div>Off Volcanoes</div><div>Space station distortion</div><div>Then plan our escape</div><div>Ghostly after light</div><div>Lost in the lights</div><div>You look like…</div><div>She opened her shell</div><div>Drinking under Mary's gaze</div><div>Cute for all the reasons I'm ready to please!</div><div>Growing around trees</div><div>What a remarkable show</div><div>Feed us grapes now</div><div>opening</div><div>In her shadow</div><div>The eye the drink</div><div>This day the crystal ball fell</div><div>Bodies on display</div><div>another body</div><div>Bodies body</div><div>Did the magician step in?</div><div>Do you see my California hills?</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-4832899126537460009?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-2560407476742554372010-06-29T03:10:00.000-07:002010-06-29T03:13:40.420-07:00<div>Have you seen the way the tracks keep breathing open closed you know</div><div>The sun touched the shadows, The light dripped all over the window</div><div>It was lightning, True magic, electric, hair raising and touching</div><div>Progressive and moody</div><div>You know, full of life</div><div>Dancing singing' drunken whatever just doin' your thing</div><div>Carried out of all them same ol things</div><div>Right back to the sea</div><div>eating sand and smelling beneath her skirt</div><div>Do you see it?</div><div>Hear it?</div><div>Here sleeps the babies that died the night we were born the day we began to speak</div><div>Oh don't be so serious, that's a cock and balls we made in the sand</div><div>Getting over it might be the part that is most important</div><div>I prefer to crash on the beach</div><div>Thinking up walls and breaking them down to crown us all please</div><div>Or should we keep it all locked up?</div><div>Looks like we might of lost our heads again</div><div>Searching for knowledge inside empty forgotten idols</div><div>Tiki Tiki Time machine</div><div>Smoke and mirrors if that's what you like, stars are part of everything</div><div>Touched the sun</div><div>Drop that bomb with your bikini on, take it off when the job's done</div><div>Warning, you are flying above clouds there will be a come down.</div><div>Yes I like dressing up and drinking alone in my room</div><div>Sure it can get lonely but there are no rules</div><div>focus!</div><div>This is where we live</div><div>Put a little muscle in it, they can take it</div><div>Here we kept you sufficiently distracted?</div><div>Ha!</div><div>Hung up with stars in eyes</div><div>We can bring it to life, just because we can</div><div>Give them all a show</div><div>Someone made it happen, someone thought it</div><div>Took us all for a ride</div><div>not enough sense to make sense</div><div>Americano Bizness, you rotten apple</div><div>yes, yes..thank you for helping us to forget</div><div>keep thinking</div><div>keep playing your song</div><div>you are lucky enough to be one of the pretty ones</div><div>We keep writing all those songs about you</div><div>and you and you</div><div>Take her for a dance, take her home, take until there is cake enough for two</div><div>Who's coming who's here</div><div>The black and white print dreams</div><div>do wa diddy da doooo</div><div>I heard of a fellow that split the universe in half and shared a smile</div><div>To the man outside and the one on the other side inside the waters edge</div><div>masked so we can continue to keep this individuality</div><div>on this side.</div><div>on this side.</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-256040747674255437?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-30505872610897373212010-06-29T03:07:00.000-07:002010-06-29T03:09:10.838-07:00<div>Flaunting Colors</div><div>Bending over others</div><div>Hello sisters flowers</div><div>Remember when we were shy?</div><div>Unsure of looking behind doors</div><div>Admirers, true admirers </div><div>Natures things, she makes things?</div><div>Progress is making me sleepy</div><div>Continue to make choices</div><div>Look into the light</div><div>The art we choose to make</div><div>Choose to see</div><div>Lines and circles and forms and…</div><div>Please come in or lean on red</div><div>Keep sides defined, I walk the line</div><div>And bend it</div><div>Secret powers at his feet</div><div>Under skin perfection</div><div>While humankind grows and grows</div><div>Drink of his blood and sleep by it's toes</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-3050587261089737321?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-79422915254125951232010-06-29T03:04:00.000-07:002010-06-29T03:06:15.521-07:00<div>Who stepped on your partner at the party?</div><div>for every two of you there is one</div><div>collecting and packaging</div><div>underworlds, dreamscapes</div><div>Just like how God was conceived</div><div>Greeted and packaged, "Hello my friend"</div><div>Trinity clown faced decoration</div><div>so much continues to be said</div><div>Who created who created who?</div><div>Keep smiling so sweet</div><div>Saturated and not so boring</div><div>They all sit behind the Green door</div><div>Making pictures on the wall</div><div>Holding tight to space mountain</div><div>Exploring living rooms</div><div>Oh Mamma keep on dreaming</div><div>Death machine took its wings</div><div>So shout it out loud</div><div>In the hair of butterflied balls</div><div>Peeking under skirts</div><div>Always for business use</div><div>We are on and see you</div><div>Hung up</div><div>On ceilings</div><div>On walls</div><div>Landscapes under skin</div><div>Walk the bridge without toll</div><div>Organic perfect distortion</div><div>My hand, your hand, give a hand</div><div>To space and light</div><div>Shielded trees to be</div><div>Married and married and married</div><div>Where Jesus shot his heroine</div><div>The stories just came and came</div><div>Under re-enacted candle light</div><div>Drop the bomb, the ATOM bomb</div><div>Is this thing on? tap… tap…</div><div>We grew</div><div>Yes, we grew</div><div>Out the walls and windows too</div><div>Then blew threw the roof</div><div>Faith will wait all day for you</div><div>Sit on our thought, it's OK</div><div>Plenty of time for play</div><div>To fall laughing on the floor</div><div>The blood is thin, helping to</div><div>Keep smiling keep your cool</div><div>Survived another war</div><div>Keeping on keeping on</div><div>Wait! Are the lights on?</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7942291525412595123?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-67724931862771885792010-06-27T18:56:00.000-07:002010-06-27T18:57:26.118-07:00<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">Dear online community, </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">It is time to build your resume's, sharpen your pre existing skills, and for goodness sake - learn new skills and meet new people and enjoy the beauty of others worlds. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">If you happen to find love in artistic bliss using any of the following titles: Actor, Musician, Comedian, Cook, Artist (painter, photographer, sculpture, arcade game designer, space station operator, etc.), and people with little to no talent or interest in such but would be willing to push the line, walk the line, and bend that line!!! Well if you happen to entertain the idea of being part of a new San Jose based cable variety show, now is your chance to do this!</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">Please submit any and all information in how you might be able to participate, the skills you would like to share, your business's business, or all or none of the above. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">No corporate anything. We are not in this to build more squares on this regimes castle. We are in this to change the world! </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">You may be thinking to yourself:</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">Who will you be working with? </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">how can a variety show change the world?</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">I like going to McDonalds and Walmart and believe in a two party system!</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">I can answer all these questions and all opposition. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">You will be working with San Jose's underbelly and founders of tomorrows visual and musical artistic universe. We will be directing a gang of overly talented seasoned professionals. Don't worry, we're not snobs all the time. Sure we like what we like, but we're a gang much more interested in learning and teaching! There is nothing at all on the following sites that can hint at what this show will grow to become yet everything at the links below can give you a hint of our background and visions. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">http://www.josephdemaree.com </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">http://www.youtube.com/user/holdenmeyer</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">http://www.theunitbreed.com</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1017571295</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">http://www.fcots.com</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">To change the world you have to begin your message. Someone wrote the bible, someone else interpreted it, and someone else interpreted that, and so on. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">It's ok to like what you like, even that perverse square middle class working stiff living threw prime time is allowed to do just that. So join us and we can enlighten one another, argue, and generally crash off a beautiful coast and mix like oil and water mix. We need you for our show. You, like us, makes up our town and I'd much rather enjoy to agree to disagree than not hear the story.</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">This is a free show, done threw shear sweat and grit to give to the community. Help scratch our backs so we can help you be heard and seen. Actors, we need you! Skits are writing themselves and rewriting will be key as soon as writing has begun. Looking for people of all shapes and sizes. We need the beautiful, the old and wise, the emotionally explosive, and the sweet kind does. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">Thank you for any and all response and submissions. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">Forever until permanently lost in space</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; ">- Joseph Demaree and John Muller</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div id="AppleMailSignature" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; "><div style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space; "><div>I paint things - www.josephdemaree.com</div><div><br /></div><div>I make music - www.theunitbreed.com</div><div><br /></div><div>I myspace - www.myspace.com/theunitbreed</div><div><br /></div><div>I like to share - www.idiomism.com</div><div><br /></div></div></span><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-6772493186277188579?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-25583313729317593692010-06-19T04:12:00.000-07:002010-06-19T04:13:16.511-07:00<div>Slow moving seasons continue their crawl</div><div>The animals grow blind, angry, lazy</div><div>happily underfoot</div><div>Wet with anticipation for the sun</div><div>Cover our petals with your many hands</div><div>Stain these streets with your seamen</div><div>Bend the line while walking it</div><div>Everyone has moved here, a few from</div><div>All radiating demanding attention</div><div>Ready to grow</div><div><br /></div><div>Fashionably Electric Wet Liberal Young Crafty Oregon</div><div><br /></div><div>Choosing sides</div><div>Sitting on faiths thoughts</div><div>Culturally lost</div><div>vibrantly ecstatic</div><div>You can do</div><div>You can do</div><div>You can do it </div><div>yourself</div><div>attitude</div><div><br /></div><div>Locking up</div><div>to keep inside </div><div>your own souls</div><div>rusted cage</div><div><br /></div><div>Making home again</div><div>Leaving Home Again</div><div>To float on flying rugs and swim in wine</div><div>Yes, the sun will come up again tomorrow</div><div>Yes, thank you for being you.</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-2558331372931759369?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-50741797806817369012010-06-19T04:06:00.000-07:002010-06-19T04:13:43.988-07:00<div>Dreaming of a mountain top</div><div>When we washed up here</div><div>Who created who created who created this living tare</div><div>All wrapped up with so many places to be</div><div>Cement city has another wino</div><div>Practicing their aim and tuning the rest out</div><div>Our mommas rest deep in dreams</div><div>Stepdads bleeding from helping heads</div><div>All we want is in you</div><div>We listen to the traffics give and take</div><div>Here we continue to build and take</div><div>Finding time to make friends, hello my friend</div><div>Go ahead and say whatever you feel like you need to say</div><div>Dream your dreams and build your things</div><div>Deep in the belly of the whale I hear her sing:</div><div>"Ain't life a beach boys keep me just out of reach</div><div>Make some new friends and remember the old ones</div><div>All that shouting and screaming's been noticed, it's not the end."</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-5074179780681736901?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-1182876041187376812010-06-13T05:16:00.000-07:002010-06-13T05:17:18.305-07:00<div>The show today in SF at Cellspace was fantastic. It was totally free! It had an open bar that only served Sailor Jerry Spiced Rum! There was tons of free food, the catered stuff, that covered veggie, beef, chicken, pork, and many forms of egg salad and soup. There was a free documentary to watch called Hori Smoku Sailor Jerry - A film about the life and times of american tattoo master Norman K.Collins. Directed by Erich Weiss! The film was superb offering an introspective fresh look into a man who broke open a bottle of "I Can" all over the side of Tattoo culture and the beginning of a blooming new art form. This colorfully shrewed trouble maker changed the way people look at tattoos. There was a band!!! A band made up of Keith Morris (CIRCLE JERKS), Steve McDonald on bass (REDD KROSS), Dimitri Coats on guitar (the BURNING BRIDES) Mario Rubalcaba on drums (HOT SNAKES,​CLIKITAT IKATOWI,ROCKET FROM THE CRYPT, EARTHLESS) called OFF! Fuck yes!!! They were great! Punk, Smart, Energetic, and ended with Keith walking off stage while the band played a seriously groovy jam. I was so into it I jotted my number down and nervously explained that I was into it and would love to do their album art. I totally dug it. I saw Circle Jerks play at The Edge in Powell Alto when I was 15 with my cousin. Skinheads started spitting on the band and the band started spitting back. The Circle Jerks kept on playing and totally rocking. All of a sudden I wasn't just dancing in a pit, I was ducking punches and making my way to safety while Punks beat the crap out of some aryan nonsense. I have been drawn to this expressive sound ever since. </div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-118287604118737681?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-75277316232336999642010-06-13T05:04:00.000-07:002010-06-13T05:09:09.359-07:00<div>I miss you guys... I'm going to be in Portland for a week next week.</div><div>How does thing thing work? Can anyone read it or just us? I'm working on a book and would like to have your opinions. </div><div><br /></div><div>- joe</div><div><br /></div><div>why not a poem?</div><div><br /></div><div>Hey Monkey, you seen the virgin Mary?</div><div>I'd like to share a secret</div><div>please pass it along</div><div>Oh Yes to Mary</div><div>I want to touch your special places</div><div>open the curtains and look into the eyes</div><div>of our thorn crowned king</div><div>can you ask him something?</div><div>Something secret from me</div><div>please ask him to tell you to tell that monkey to tell me</div><div>What's on your mind?</div><div>What's on his mind?</div><div>I know we have to follow our own path</div><div>Yes you get to visit and often walk alone</div><div>Yes oh yes Monkey have Mary tell that crowned king for me</div><div>I'll be on my way</div><div>just gonna go along my way</div><div>Yea you thorn crowned king I hope you don't mind</div><div>but I better be getting on</div><div>along my way</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7527731623233699964?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-79426717812055632152009-11-24T16:52:00.000-08:002009-11-24T16:54:45.331-08:00so i read The Fall twice. got half way through The Naked And The Dead, got bored and gave up.<br />i read the new issue of Tape Op.... fuck, we are the worst/laziest book club ever.<br />i got some Tom Robbins book at a goodwill in arizona, i'm gonna try it. i usually hate his books...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7942671781205563215?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-3105256292951343682009-05-10T19:10:00.000-07:002009-05-10T19:26:44.670-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">poem for dan </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">i’m in a fine mood </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">it's 12:30 </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">on a Sunday afternoon - </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">May 5TH, 2009 </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">the spring sun is shining </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">the cacti in the window are blooming </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">and I just took a shit </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">that made me feel 10 pounds lighter </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">and 10 years younger</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">I step into my roommates room </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">maybe he wants to join me on the porch </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">for a cup of tea… </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">his door is open </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">but his room is vacant </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">nothing but ghosts </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">silence </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">defeat  </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">but wait… </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">smiling up at me </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">from a cardboard box on the floor </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">is a neil young with crazy horse album </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">tea </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">eggs </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">sourdough toast </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">sunshine and crazy horse on the porch </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">yes, yes  </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">a fine way to start the day.  </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">I grab the album </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">open the case  </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">what the fuck.  </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">what the fuck. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">what the fuck. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">what the fuck.  </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">what the fuck.  </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">no neil </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">no crazy </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">no horse </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">inside sits the postal service* </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">smirking up at me </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">with a shit eating grin </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">made of drum machines </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">boring pop keyboards </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">and nancy boy lyrics  </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">fuck you dan. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">fuck </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">you. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">*i'm sure these boys are noteworthy musicians of superb merit, but it's just not my cup of tea...</span></span></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-310525629295134368?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-78520756187967810402009-05-10T09:18:00.000-07:002009-05-10T09:32:10.873-07:00<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; ">sunday best</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; "><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">tom waits sounds best<br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">on vinyl,</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">everybody knows this</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">just as dark haired girls</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">in white dresses</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">look like tigers</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">in the springtime</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">cheap white wine tastes best </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">on a sunday afternoon</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">as the dogs sleep in the shade</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and the strawberries bloom</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and words run best </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">from the fingertips</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">to the keys</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">across the page -</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">like a virgin's tears on prom night -</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; ">once the bottle is empty.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7852075618796781040?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-69367581607552277512009-04-29T09:36:00.000-07:002009-04-29T09:37:56.814-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; "><h2 style="clear: left; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 20px; margin-bottom: 0.2em; margin-left: 10px; ">hey, i thought you guys might be interested,</h2><h2 style="clear: left; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 20px; margin-bottom: 0.2em; margin-left: 10px; ">the Library is having a bag sale at title wave!!!</h2><h2 style="clear: left; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 20px; margin-bottom: 0.2em; margin-left: 10px; "><br /></h2><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 70%; line-height: 1.4em; margin-top: 0.2em; margin-right: 30px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 10px; ">Fill a bag with books for $10.</p><h3 class="locator" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 75%; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 20px; margin-bottom: 0.2em; margin-left: 10px; ">Thursday, April 30 and Friday, May 1<br />10 a.m.–4 p.m.<ul class="nodot" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.1em; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0.2em; list-style-type: none; padding-left: 10px; "><li style="line-height: 1.2em; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 70%; padding-bottom: 0.4em; ">Used merchandise only</li><li style="line-height: 1.2em; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 70%; padding-bottom: 0.4em; ">Limit 10 bags per customer</li><li style="line-height: 1.2em; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 70%; padding-bottom: 0.4em; ">Books must fit in bag completely</li><li style="line-height: 1.2em; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 70%; padding-bottom: 0.4em; ">Sale applies to books and audiobooks only</li></ul><ul class="nodot" style="margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.1em; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0.2em; list-style-type: none; padding-left: 10px; "><li style="line-height: 1.2em; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 70%; padding-bottom: 0.4em; "><a href="http://www.multcolib.org/titlewave/" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">The Title Wave Used Bookstore</a></li><li style="line-height: 1.2em; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 70%; padding-bottom: 0.4em; ">216 N.E. Knott St.</li><li style="line-height: 1.2em; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 70%; padding-bottom: 0.4em; ">503.988.5021</li></ul></h3></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-6936758160755227751?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-56571092529610609332009-04-28T10:12:00.000-07:002009-04-28T12:32:53.530-07:00<div style="text-align: left;font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:130%;">there</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> is a rest area<br />outside of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size:130%;">aberdeen</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size:130%;">washington</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />that serves free coffee, cookies, hot cocoa<br />and every so often pumpkin pie<br /><br />i stop here from time to time<br />in my delivery van<br />to pad my hours a bit<br /><br />today the sun is shining<br />i have a cup of hot cocoa<br />and a copy of </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >hunger</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> by </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-size:130%;">knut</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-size:130%;">hamsun</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />it's a beautiful day<br /><br />i watch from a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-size:130%;">picnic</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> bench<br />by the dumpsters<br />as obese women<br />with small dogs<br />and even smaller shorts -<br />shorts that are much<br />much too short -<br />smoke </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-size:130%;">cigarettes</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />and apply make-up<br />as their white trash<br />bastard children<br />burn ants<br />with a magnifying glass<br /><br />the fat falls from their rumps<br />and out of their short shorts<br />like hamburger meat<br />from the grinder<br /><br />20 feet away<br />a trucker smiles<br />at me<br />from his big rig<br /><br />he watches me<br />watching them<br /><br />even from a distance<br />i can tell<br />that he is jerking off<br /><br />it's times like this<br />that i am proud<br />to be an </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-size:130%;">american</span><span style="font-size:130%;">.</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-5657109252961060933?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-31423208261184433442009-04-16T16:08:00.000-07:002009-04-16T16:09:21.459-07:00<div style="text-align: center; font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;">31<br />plaid on plaid<br />whiskey five nights a week<br />mysterious tangerine in his pocket<br />stolen sunglasses that hang from his neck<br />yes, yes, this is the man who never says goodbye<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-3142320826118443344?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-31447694781533655312009-04-07T10:28:00.000-07:002009-04-07T10:41:47.717-07:00<div style="text-align: left;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">you wake up one sunday morning<br />only to realize<br />that you have grown old without warning,<br />and that age is not part of thee equation...<br /><br />and not only does your heart run<br />like your dead grandfather's<br />sputtering plymouth once did,<br />but emotionally it moves to the rhythm<br />of a dying clock...<br /><br />and you realize then,<br />that the shelves you have built upon<br />your plum brown bedroom walls,<br />the dog that sleeps at your feet as you type,<br />and the plants who slumber in the sun<br />atop your bookcase<br />mean more than yesterday...<br /><br />and only then do you realize,<br />that death--in all of her terrific glory--<br />feels more like a long lost friend<br />than anything else...<br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-3144769478153365531?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-70835868206429932382009-04-06T13:47:00.000-07:002009-04-06T13:59:11.382-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.photo.net/attachments/bboard/009/009hFk-19922884.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://zoknows.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/cough-syrup.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 400px;" src="http://zoknows.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/cough-syrup.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 16px; font-family:-webkit-monospace;font-size:14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">so i've caught about three or four different variations of the flu/cold in the last 2 months. i drink tons of juice and water. i take my vitamins and bike as much as i can. i don't sit around inside unless i'm recording or playin music.   at work i cashier some, have to touch raw meat some and have customers with their sick kids coughing all over the place so i'm constantly sanitizing and washing my hands. today is my 3rd day totally laided up in bed. i've watched way too many dumb movies and i have too much of a head ache to read books for any extended amount of time. in a state of paranoia i thought i had </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1239050896_0" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- line-height: 1.2em; color:initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">lupus</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"> and then had a weird medicine dream. then i had a weirder dream about yelling into one of those communicator tube things in an old light house. (definately put in my mind by the </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1239050896_1" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- line-height: 1.2em; color:initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dr Who episode</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"> where the doctor and leela solve the mystery at fang rock). i tried to go to the closest free clinic to my house today, but its sunday and they were closed. as my girlfriend was leaving to go study at psu, i was thinkin about hauling my 4 track recorder and a microphone upstairs to record some haikus and maybe some songs on the omnichord or something low key. then i heard her holler at me from somewhere outside. as i struggled melodramatically out of bed she kept tellin me to come outside. when i got to the front door there was a dead crow laying on the sidewalk. i remembered in all those plays and books and shit about how dead animals are foreshadowing for later events..... like when the horses eat each other in macbeth. my girl wanted to know what we should do. call animal services? call the city? call the humane society? no. i said i'd take care of it. i grabbed a shovel and she left. at first, all i could think was, "i love watching the crows play in my front yard and get in little scuffs with the squirrels and cats on the block." i remember one time actually seeing a crow get so pissed at a squirrel that it actually pick't the squirrel up and flew up in the air just to drop it about 20 feet from the ground. i thought i'd bury the crow in our garden. like some circle of life kinda thing. then i started wondering....was it diseased? would it poison our crops? kinda freaked me out a little to think about it. i decided to just put it in the garbage can. i'm all for </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1239050896_2" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- line-height: 1.2em; color:initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">animal rights</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"> and i hated watching all the animals bummed out behavior when i worked at the zoo. i'm not sure if putting it in the trash can was the right thing to do, but i'm definately under the weather and didn't feel like digging it a grave. i, maybe irrationally, imagined my cat or some other neighborhood animal digging it up as a new play toy and just got nauseous. anyways, i scooped the crow into a shovel and was surprised at how heavy it was. i've had a </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1239050896_3" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- line-height: 1.2em; color:initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">pet bird</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"> before, but this thing was bigger. the poor creature's neck was limp and his head flopped a bit when i scooped him up. i didn't see any blood and its wings were not broken. was it sick? had it been hit by a car? i figured that if a dog or cat got it, it would've snapped the crows wings or something. it was in the position of a sleeping chicken. i don't know that i necessarily believe in an after life for any creatures on this planet...myself included. but i really hope that poor crow died peacefully. i also hope that, if there is an after life or if souls or whatever just hang around like casper, i hope that this crow doesn't haunt me for throwing its remains in a grey plastic city of portland dumpster. and as for the foreshadowing, i keep reminding myself that i'm just loaded on cough syrup and i don't believe in that kind of stuff... i kind of hate </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1239050896_4" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- line-height: 1.2em; color:initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">shakespeare</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">. for a minute i thought that it was shakespeare's ghost that had put this dead animal on my sidewalk to get me back for dissing his lifes work. there is no scientific explanation for that so i'm just gonna drink some juice and read some comics. gotta remind myself that its ok to call in sick to work if yr really sick. </span> </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7083586820642993238?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-5081146212927632022009-04-05T22:40:00.000-07:002009-04-05T11:04:16.663-07:00Delivering wine for a living sounds like a fine profession... It is not. It's not the worst, but far from fine. They don't give me a discount, and the hours are inconsistent at best. She sends me a text--<span style="font-style: italic;">Can you come in at 8:45AM tomorrow? Earl just made another order</span>. It's 11PM... Great. I was at the bar thinking i worked at noon... Off to bed. Late. Missed coffee. Missed breakfast. Missed sleep.<br /><div><br />The van starts up fine... The smell of Diesel fills my nose. I drive to Salem, about an hour each way. It's an easy delivery and the Italian owner is the real stand up type. I like him--He's short, balding, has a thick accent and his face has the look of a worn out boxer.... I wonder what brought this poor fool from his "Madrepatria" to the armpit of Oregon called Salem? I drive back to Portland and get another one out to Hillsboro--Another shit-hole about 45 Min. outside of Portland. I used to think the guy at this wine shop was a total douche-bag. I'm wrong today, he is polite and gives me 25% off a bottle of red.</div><div><br />The day is looking up and i have a descent bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir</div><div>to share with a certain lady friend of mine upon her return to the States.</div><div>The last delivery is downtown to a club called "Dirty".</div><div><span style="font-style: italic;">Dirty</span>? Jesus... I unload 5 cases of Prosecco in front of the homeless shelter on W. Burrnside and 3rd. I walk past the line of hungry washed up tweekers, drunkards and aspiring writers waiting for their cot and a food handout. The "club" is next door. The front door is locked. A sign reads:<br /><br />Dirty Nightlife:<br /><br /></div><div>no hats<br />no sneakers--any color,<br />no gold teeth...<br /><br />The sign went on and on and on...<br /><br /></div><div>So, disgusted with this meat market I walk around to the side door. Locked.</div><div>I smell something. Something horrendous. I look down in amazement and disbelief. My foot and my hand truck have found a steaming fresh pile of bum shit; A pile the size of a sewer rat but the shape and color of an apple fritter...<br /><br /></div><div>Yes, friends... I stepped in it... My nostrils filled with thee oh so mighty fragrant odor of human shit. (Unlike dog shit, and far from cat shit, human shit hits the nose like no other.) And when Fuck Face opens the door i say:<br /><br />"What the fuck! There is human shit in your doorway!"</div><div>Fuck Face replies, "That's just dog shit."</div><div>"So you just left a pile of shit in front of the door?"</div><div>"<span style="font-style: italic;">I</span> didn't put it there." says Fuck Face.</div><div><br />Fuck you Fuck face...</div><div><br />So I bring the Prosecco in--without wiping my feet. They don't have a check. Fuck Face says he can't have a check until three. We close at 2:30, so against Fuck Face's wishes </div><div>I load the wine back into the van begin a hopeless journey back to the warehouse...</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-508114621292763202?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-36183147486784560222009-03-31T08:59:00.000-07:002009-03-31T09:05:46.754-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">Rain on a tin roof and whiskey makes you bullet proof.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">-Lets fight the good fight with darkness as our light!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">At this point, choosin' sides'll get you as far as carousel rides,</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">Lets fight the good fight with darkness as our light.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">     Hack pianist.  Frozen whitless.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">     Sittin' on a city train.  Lit and </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">     missin' some dumb thing.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">Sad, shut windows...closed to the world:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">The dull, dusty eyes of a country girl.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">-Just to be clear: There is no future here, </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">you'd have much better luck  just 'bout anywhere!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">     Pack evangelist, Frozen baptist</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">     Waitin' at a train crossing. Lost</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new';">     &amp; detached from every thing.</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-3618314748678456022?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-50235695953853100022009-03-30T19:15:00.000-07:002009-03-30T19:24:08.330-07:00...or at least I hope I did. I don't really know the Pacific's true feelings about me or my actions but if I could guess I would say that it is jealousy. Don't try to ignore me, ocean. You know I'm right here. You may be the single largest thing on this planet but when I stand on your western shores and soak up your misty spray and jolly waves, I can't help but notice your sly downward glances and awkward gestures. It must be jealousy.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-5023569595385310002?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05884107088427282604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-83036935420096046262009-03-28T19:46:00.000-07:002009-03-28T20:04:09.496-07:00How do I make this sadness stop? I want to be a happy person again. I just don't know how...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-8303693542009604626?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubiquitousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-82853606404956407352009-03-28T17:57:00.000-07:002009-03-28T18:39:58.273-07:00As I was working the register at Tiny's today, I ran into this guy who I had met through a friend some months ago. He was a nice enough guy, quiet and laid-back. He is also a diabetic who doesn't really take care of himself, and my friend was forced to move out (with his daughter) because this guy's weekly episodes and trips to the ER had become too much of a burden. I notice he has a massive splint on his right leg. He broke his knee, and talks about how he is between houses and is hopefully moving away from Portland because it is just not really working out here. He mentions what an interesting fall its been. <div><br /><div>He takes his coffee and scone and goes to sit down. Time slips by.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I turn toward the next customer there is a commotion by the door. This guy is going into a full-on diabetic seizure. Right there in the store as someone is about to order a fucking hazelnut latte. We all gape for a moment. His hands claw at the table and he is white as ghost, kicking and writhing in his booth by the window. A few folks hold his head up as he is shaking and convulsing and we call 911 and they arrive and fix him up in a matter of minutes. He leaves with them, stretcher and all, out the door and into the pissing rain.</div><div><br /></div><div>What did he mean by an 'interesting fall'? It was the one thing he said that really stuck out to me. Was he speaking in a metaphorical sense about his trajectory in life or did he momentarily forget what season it was?</div><div><br /></div><div>I was left to wonder if this really is such a common occurrence in his life, how he made it this far on sheer luck and empathy of strangers and, most importantly, how much longer can he keep doing this before it ends in an even more interesting but mostly sad fall?</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-8285360640495640735?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05884107088427282604noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-58865628213189909512009-03-24T10:14:00.000-07:002009-03-24T11:01:28.652-07:00i was talking to my mother over some wine<br />last night<br />while my dear friend daniel<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span>galucki tended bar<br /><br />we were talking about my dead grandfather<br />who liked to dance<br />drink<br />bowl<br />drink<br />golf<br />drink<br />sing<br />drink<br />and drink<br /><br />he was a stubborn bastard<br />a WWII sailor<br />he crashed his car into the hedge<br />after bowling night<br />just as scottish as irish<br />but he claimed pure irish till his death<br />he said:<br />"drink, or gamble. pick one or the other;<br />never choose both."<br />he loved my grandmother<br />but i'm not sure she loved him<br />he fixed things with wire and tape<br />he was cheap<br />and<br />i respected him<br /><br />James E. Gibbons<br />or Jim to his friends<br />who had a stroke at 83 or maybe 84?<br />i think it was the year 2000, but i could be wrong<br />up until then he had been sharp<br />when they took his keys away so he couldn't drive<br />he would just fetch one of the sets he had hidden around the house<br />and go for a spin<br />they finally put a club on his car<br /><br />and after his stroke<br />he lay in a hospital bed for a week<br />every day he asked my mother to take him home<br />he couldn't walk at the time<br />and my grandmother was incapable of caring for him<br />so, they were going to take him to a nursing home the next day<br />he knew this<br />so he pulled the oxygen mask from his face<br />and while no one was around<br />he died at his own hand<br /><br />i still respect him<br />more than ever.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-5886562821318990951?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-18264445904283521052009-03-20T23:20:00.000-07:002009-03-22T20:24:55.978-07:00what a swell little glass...<div>wine tastes best from a jelly jar </div><div>or a little glass like this </div><div>made for bourbon</div><div><br /></div><div>the glass needs to be thick.</div><div>heavy.</div><div>small.</div><div>i like to refill it 10 times before the bottle is empty</div><div>that way i feel like i get my ten dollars worth </div><div>of italian red</div><div><br /></div><div>and how does one find a glass so holy</div><div>in a house like this?</div><div>where the only dishes lay piled high in the sink</div><div>covered in pig fat</div><div>and old moldy vegan soup</div><div><br /></div><div>there was a fork</div><div>that lived a life of solitude in my housemates room</div><div>possibly for months</div><div>and when another mate rescued it</div><div>cleansed it</div><div>and put it to work</div><div>he realized that the smell of grass-</div><div>months worth</div><div>had burrowed it's way into the metal...</div><div>truly astounding. astonishing. that his caesar salad</div><div>smelled of dope.</div><div><br /></div><div>and somehow</div><div>amidst the fog</div><div>the clouds</div><div>the rain</div><div>the storm</div><div>the war</div><div>and the chaos</div><div>i found this little clean glass</div><div>a gift from dionysus<br /></div><div>a token of appreciation </div><div>for my devotion to the grape</div><div><br /></div><div>now, in awe</div><div>my loyal hand holds a martyr</div><div>a saint</div><div>who's sole purpose</div><div>in this dreary house</div><div>among the plastic cups </div><div>and cracked coffee mugs</div><div>is to fill my head</div><div>and my guts</div><div>with the nectar of the gods</div><div>thick.</div><div>heavy.</div><div>small.</div><div> </div><div>i could place it in a sock</div><div>swing it three mighty times</div><div>above my head </div><div>and coldcock an elephant...<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>what a swell little glass...</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-1826444590428352105?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-66654886503441512862009-03-19T14:16:00.000-07:002009-03-20T19:34:56.416-07:00<div style="text-align: left;">so, i was thinking...<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it might be nice to write about something </div><div style="text-align: left;">other than:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">drinking.</div><div style="text-align: left;">being poor.</div><div style="text-align: left;">anxiety.</div><div style="text-align: left;">girls.</div><div style="text-align: left;">guilt.</div><div style="text-align: left;">lovers.</div><div style="text-align: left;">love.</div><div style="text-align: left;">dogs.</div><div style="text-align: left;">sex.</div><div style="text-align: left;">insomnia.</div><div style="text-align: left;">rain.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">maybe i should write about flowers?</div><div style="text-align: left;">or the dead skin </div><div style="text-align: left;">that seems to be accumulating </div><div style="text-align: left;">on my typewriter keys?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it was while i was thinking </div><div style="text-align: left;">about this change in attitude</div><div style="text-align: left;">this rut i'm stuck in</div><div style="text-align: left;">this bukowski rip-off bullshit-</div><div style="text-align: left;">that i realized what i was doing:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">digging through filthy couch cushions</div><div style="text-align: left;">in search of change</div><div style="text-align: left;">to buy a beer</div><div style="text-align: left;">that i cannot afford</div><div style="text-align: left;">i want this beer</div><div style="text-align: left;">because i have anxiety</div><div style="text-align: left;">from a sleepless night</div><div style="text-align: left;">from drinking too much red </div><div style="text-align: left;">12 hours prior</div><div style="text-align: left;">that somebody else paid for</div><div style="text-align: left;">while i sat at the bar</div><div style="text-align: left;">and looked at girls</div><div style="text-align: left;">who i would like to touch</div><div style="text-align: left;">i want to know what their hair smells like </div><div style="text-align: left;">the next morning</div><div style="text-align: left;">right now</div><div style="text-align: left;">which makes me feel guilty</div><div style="text-align: left;">because my lover</div><div style="text-align: left;">who i love</div><div style="text-align: left;">is in costa rica</div><div style="text-align: left;">and</div><div style="text-align: left;">i'm watching her dog while she is away</div><div style="text-align: left;">his name is bubba</div><div style="text-align: left;">he is a pekingese that snores like thunder</div><div style="text-align: left;">he has a bad back</div><div style="text-align: left;">heart disease</div><div style="text-align: left;">ulcers of the eye</div><div style="text-align: left;">bad breath</div><div style="text-align: left;">missing teeth</div><div style="text-align: left;">a smile worth all the gold in southern australia</div><div style="text-align: left;">and a soul so mighty god shits his britches </div><div style="text-align: left;">at the very thought </div><div style="text-align: left;">of a being so </div><div style="text-align: left;">HOLY</div><div style="text-align: left;">i love him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">well,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the cactus in my window is flowering today</div><div style="text-align: left;">surely a sign of spring</div><div style="text-align: left;">maybe the clouds and rain will pass</div><div style="text-align: left;">and maybe i'll get stoned</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-6665488650344151286?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-33746608169539825442009-03-18T19:02:00.000-07:002009-03-20T19:46:29.040-07:00<div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">POEM #6<br /><br />i hold<br />in my hand<br />thee heart of a lover<br /><br />i wear<br />on my sleeve<br />thee heart of a dingo*</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />i keep<br />in my chest-<br />locked up tight<br />inside my ribcage bones,<br />the following:<br /><br />3 birds.<br />a single yellow rose.<br />one switchblade.<br />one handle of rum.<br />and...<br /><br />thee heart of an ass.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">*<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Dingoes are mostly seen alone, though the majority belong to packs which rendezvous once every few days to socialize and or mate.</span></span></div><br /><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-3374660816953982544?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-57306670965378561842009-03-17T03:28:00.000-07:002009-03-17T03:37:06.127-07:00What is time? Maybe it has something to do with how exhausted one gets... or how excitable. There's one hell of a pain under my right rib cage, mostly because I decided to eat a slice of pizza. I should of gotten a beer instead. So hi ho to my new bookmates. Let us find the "The Canyon of Vaginas". I can leave tomorrow, or maybe after I check off all the odd things on my finish stuff list.<div><br /></div><div>1. Finish vocals and mix of new album</div><div>2. Finish board game and figure out how to publish it</div><div>3. Finish 7" layout</div><div>4. Book June tour</div><div>5. Start and finish layout for new album by May</div><div>6. Go get x-ray of broken finger and possible broken gaul bladder</div><div>7. Go sleep in bed with you lady and get off this time machine</div><div><br /></div><div>sometimes a dance isn't all it's cut up to be</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-5730667096537856184?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Captain Nowherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01435841839002821856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-73908140185775230952009-03-16T13:20:00.000-07:002009-03-16T13:43:08.163-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kAqsQm9ZN_k/Sb60qC3-H_I/AAAAAAAAABY/exO8qEsjGGY/s1600-h/tom+robbins.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kAqsQm9ZN_k/Sb60qC3-H_I/AAAAAAAAABY/exO8qEsjGGY/s320/tom+robbins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313883244762898418" border="0" /></a><br />New member Joseph Demaree chose short story book #2 "Wild Ducks Flying Backward" by Tom Robbins<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7390814018577523095?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-12481582054218225422009-03-16T13:02:00.000-07:002009-03-16T13:18:10.282-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kAqsQm9ZN_k/Sb6wxQ_kboI/AAAAAAAAABQ/0KGslBhetUg/s1600-h/camus_fall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kAqsQm9ZN_k/Sb6wxQ_kboI/AAAAAAAAABQ/0KGslBhetUg/s320/camus_fall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313878970765438594" border="0" /></a><br />The group will be reading "The Fall" by Frenchie Albert Camus for Novel #2.<br /><br />This is the first Camus read for Dr. Fowler and Ubiquitous so we will be reading "The Stranger" by Camus as well...<br /><br />Read about him here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Camus<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-1248158205421822542?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-24848674177120691312009-03-16T09:45:00.000-07:002009-03-16T09:54:30.180-07:00<div>"I have learned to be satisfied with understanding. It is found more readily and it's not binding. Friendship is less simple. It is long and hard to obtain, but when one has it there's no getting rid of it; one simply has to cope with it. But its not easy, for friendship is absent-minded or at least unavailing. It is incapable of achieving what it wants." <br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>~Jean-Baptiste Clamence<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-2484867417712069131?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05884107088427282604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-42253753762105160472009-03-07T05:55:00.000-08:002009-03-07T06:00:24.957-08:00go-go bass line in the backbeat bent snow slosh.<br /><br /><br /> cold dogs smile in the street<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-4225375376210516047?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-68468481570436206672009-03-06T00:45:00.000-08:002009-03-09T09:49:14.288-07:0012:45am... thursday.<br />broke.<br />again.<br />anxiety.<br />always...<br />a pretty gal made me lamb stew last night.<br />shared my bed.<br />i watched her sleep.<br />i love her hands...<br />my dog vladimir vomited yellow bile<br />under my record cabinet this morning<br />and i've yet to clean it up.<br />she has a loose screw and the heart of a saint.<br />i love her brown eyes...<br />but those things<br />and those girls<br />were then...<br />this is now.<br />the only thing relevant is the last can of hamm's<br />and one more chance to get a good nights sleep...<br />shit, i need it...<br />tired.<br />always...<br />12:53am<br />alone in a basement.<br />i guess it's actually friday.<br />whatever.<br />one more chance at sleep...<br />i need it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-6846848157043620667?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-77943397393360364392009-03-05T19:54:00.000-08:002009-03-05T20:03:44.968-08:00<a href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1233/841175207_c8e49631e1.jpg?v=0"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 500px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 393px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1233/841175207_c8e49631e1.jpg?v=0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/BRGPOD/163301~Portrait-of-Paul-Verlaine-Aged-25-1869-Posters.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 338px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 450px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/BRGPOD/163301~Portrait-of-Paul-Verlaine-Aged-25-1869-Posters.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:courier new;">today i was in a tiny town at a store no one else was likely to be in for the rest of the day. i found a paperback of collected Verlaine poems. it was hot out so i walked to the whistle stop cafe and bought coffee and hashbrowns. they also brought me toast. breakfast was $3.00 the book was $8.00 and worth it. really weird translations...</span></div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:courier new;">i've also been reading The Naked and The Dead. its good. real.</span></div><br /><br /><div></div>[these photos are from google cause my phone camera is bad.]<br /><br /><div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7794339739336036439?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-24864984244534667252009-03-03T14:46:00.000-08:002009-03-03T14:51:16.693-08:00in hot water music short Scream When You Burn bukowski mention's albert camus' Resistance, Rebellion and Death... sounds like a potential bottle bound read to me...<br /><br />http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resistance,_Rebellion,_and_Death<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-2486498424453466725?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-25701087386324214132009-03-01T10:50:00.000-08:002009-03-22T09:12:03.905-07:00i have seven dollars<br />one half pound of coffee-<br />ground for french press<br />one bag of pink lady apples-<br />out of season<br />bleeding gums<br />and a headache...<br />to my name.<br /><br />i walk to the the store<br />in the rain<br />purchase one bottle of<br />cheap.<br />red.<br />wine.<br />to help me finish this poem<br /><br />now i have two dollars<br />one half pound of coffee-<br />ground for french press<br />one bag of pink lady apples-<br />out of season<br />bleeding gums<div>purple teeth</div><div>and a wino's grin...<br />to my name.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-2570108738632421413?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-26556964963189325812009-03-01T10:44:00.000-08:002009-03-01T10:49:55.991-08:00last night i made love<br />to a beautiful woman<br />4 times<br />once more in the morning<br />she loves me.<br />we spent the night drinking<br />laughing<br />she cried over a past lover<br />but things seem better than ever<br />so we spent the night drinking<br />on her money<br />after we pissed the last of mine away<br />we smoked grass<br />listened to the good, the bad, and the ugly<br />on vinyl<br />in bed<br />stoned.<br />we giggled like children<br />fucked like adults<br />4 times<br />and once more in the morning<br /><br />life is good sometimes...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-2655696496318932581?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-1942184518681847862009-03-01T10:19:00.000-08:002009-03-01T10:44:43.873-08:00<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">i walk</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">run-down</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">across blue and white tiles</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">the sticky soap beneath my shoes</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">is actually piss.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">there is one other on board</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">a middle aged black woman</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">short.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">stout.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">purple hair?</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">more of a maroon i guess...</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">she has a viscous gap between her two front teeth</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"You look like a movie star!"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"What?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"You look like that movie star! That one who surfs!"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Leif Garrett?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Yeah! Yeah! You look like him! ARE you him?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"No..."</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"You look like him... how I know you ain't him?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Would Leif Garrett dry his clothes here?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"I don't know where he be! AND ANYWAY sometimes</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">they be </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">doin</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">' things like that so peoples thinks they is normal peoples! You him."</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"No."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">i notice she is not here to wash</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">or dry</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">why is she here?</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">i turn to leave</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">she beats me to the door</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"I be back to check up wit you Leif!"</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Sure."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">i walk across the street</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">have a beer while my clothes dry</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">this madwoman has stolen my heart.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">and maybe my clothes...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-194218451868184786?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-4460815906618211492009-03-01T00:45:00.000-08:002009-03-01T00:54:06.362-08:00Tire Impressions.<br />Storefront Concessions.<br />Taxicab Confessions.<br />Financial Recessions.<br />Awkward Obsessions.<br />Recent Life Lessons.<br />Any Questions?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-446081590661821149?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05884107088427282604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-77719197777645483882009-02-26T09:44:00.000-08:002009-02-26T09:46:45.813-08:00DE-EVOLVED &amp;<div>woke up on tobacco road.</div><div><br /></div><div>O' psycho break downs!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7771919777764548388?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-26523731377314130192009-02-23T14:28:00.000-08:002009-02-23T14:39:26.454-08:00Yesterday I was driving down Grand avenue in southeast....<div><br /></div><div>There was a stack of paper. Bound. No lines. 3 ring holes punched on the left margin.  Somehow this booklet or notebook or whatever it was had made it out into the street.  The pages seemed crisp and clean in the wind.  </div><div><br /></div><div>Grand is a three lane, one way street.  In northeast it loses its way a bit, but in southeast, Grand avenue runs parallel with south bound Martin Luther King Blvd.  The paper was flappin around...layin about half way between the middle and right hand lanes.  As I passed, i could see that most of the pages were blank.  The holes punched in the pages seemed like little spy holes, each searchin for that half inch of world they could see.</div><div><br /></div><div>I drove on.  Bored by myself and driving a boring way home to do nothing, I just stopped concentrating on the road as I hit a corner.  I jerked the wheel and the car lurched around the bend.  I saw quick flashes of holes punched in paper framing out the snaking kink in the road.</div><div>I couldn't see what was written or printed on the paper, but I wanted to.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-2652373137731413019?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-47424454581132917962009-02-22T17:33:00.000-08:002009-02-22T17:56:09.573-08:00<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">t</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">his time they'll make it...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">for i have stood here before</span> <br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">alone<span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">-----</span>naked<span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">-----</span>womanless<br /><span>i've turned to them to console me in the past</span><br /><span>then, the loneliness dies...</span><br /><span>i forget.</span><br /><span>i neglect.</span><br /><span>i put a dull selfish blade to the spleen of the innocent and turn</span><br /><span>slow.</span><br /><span>no water.</span><br /><span>no light.</span><br /><span>no music, no love.</span><br /><span>the room becomes a desert</span><br /><span>even the cacti cannot survive</span><br /><span>the blood pours from their bodies</span><br /><span>down the bookcase</span><br /><span>over my record shelves</span><br /><span>across the hardwoods and out under my bedroom door</span><br /><br /><span>but, this time they'll make it...<br /><br /></span><span>for here i stand</span><br /><span>alone<span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">----</span>drunk<span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);">----</span>womanless</span><br /><span>water can in hand</span><br /><span>wine bottle in head</span><br /><span>piranhas in my guts</span><br /><span>this time i've my copy of how to grow house plants</span><br /><span>sunset books- copyright 1974</span><br /><span>this time i've an east facing window</span><br /><span>a south facing window</span><br /><span>time</span><br /><span>a typewriter</span><br /><span>a case of cheap wine</span><br /><span>records</span><br /><span>paintbrushes</span><br /><span>water.</span><br /><span>light.</span><br /><span>love.</span><br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family: arial;">this time they'll make it..</span>.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-4742445458113291796?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dr. Fowlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11271769582671935843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-77255720191289144202009-02-22T12:50:00.000-08:002009-02-22T13:00:48.495-08:00Long tongue wakes me up<br />Licking all over my face<br />I kick her out of bed<br />And she pouts in the corner<br />Like a little girl<br />So sad and hurt<br /><br />Her big browns flash back<br />At me and I give in<br />I give in every time<br />She crawls back under<br />The covers and her tongue<br />Comes out again<br />I throw the sheets on the ground <br />Waking up my lover on the<br />Other side of the bed <br />I stand up and scream<br />"Stop licking my face!"<br /><br />And tomorrow starts the same<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-7725572019128914420?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubiquitousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-67728111915829628182009-02-21T12:12:00.000-08:002009-02-21T12:17:08.966-08:00snapped branches seem street wise<div><br /></div><div>   in the boring grey-brown </div><div><br /></div><div>             snow blur drive by jerk</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-6772811191582962818?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-32448295904260565752009-02-21T12:11:00.001-08:002009-02-21T12:11:38.865-08:00i've got a patch/tattoo almost drawn up.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-3244829590426056575?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>t wigginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11285341053482353462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-47843494732363513752009-02-21T11:33:00.000-08:002009-02-21T11:36:38.927-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://content-3.powells.com/cgi-bin/imageDB.cgi?isbn=9780876855973"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 178px;" src="http://content-3.powells.com/cgi-bin/imageDB.cgi?isbn=9780876855973" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The first short story or poetry book is <span style="font-style:italic;">Hot Water Music</span>, by Charles Bukowski<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-4784349473236351375?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubiquitousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3237928001739626984.post-7501298714042423022009-02-21T11:27:00.000-08:002009-02-21T11:33:50.442-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://content-1.powells.com/cgi-bin/imageDB.cgi?isbn=9780805060171"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 185px;" src="http://content-1.powells.com/cgi-bin/imageDB.cgi?isbn=9780805060171" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />First book assignment picked by Dan is The <span style="font-style:italic;">Naked and The Dead</span>, by Norman Mailer<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3237928001739626984-750129871404242302?l=bottlebound.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubiquitousnoreply@blogger.com7