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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
 Posted - 07/26/2005 : 18:59:35
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| "Not to worry, hon," Lucy says at the end of my shift, "Boris will drop you to home." She waves her hand like it's settled. I jump in front beside Boris. The passenger seat is duct taped in a basket-weave pattern. Boris pulls away from the curb. He doesn't turn the meter on. He's working a crossword with one hand and lighting a cigarette and steering with the other. He lights a fresh cigarette from the one he's still smoking. "What part of the Revolution are you wanting to know?" he asks me. Dusky light when the Surfliner drops a family at the station. Pale. Foreign looking. White sox and black shoes. High waters. Boris hits the brakes. "Paying fare first! Out!" he shouts, and drops me at the wait benches by the Amtrak auto ticket vending machine. The man hands Boris a slip of paper. Boris pulls out his dog-eared Thomas Guide. "Twenty minutes," he says, and tosses a crumpled, brown paper bag. One Red Vine, two Bit-O-Honey's, and a handful of Boston Baked Beans. I put my feet up on the station bench. The sun is setting. The canyons are filling up like blue bowls. An owl blinks in the eucalyptus. Bad spirits vanish. Amen. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 07/27/2005 : 19:31:13
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| Today I worked with a new stone. Caliente Noche. Spectacularly beautiful. I kept walking outside to hold it up to the light. Black. With silver-blue flecks. And a fractured, clear aquamarine vein. Transparent. Ambient light. From a quarry I had not known. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 07/27/2005 : 19:34:54
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| "...a day not to pay attention to calendars or clocks. What were we talking about... Bits and pieces of dreams scraping our cheeks..." |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3702 Posts |
Posted - 07/27/2005 : 20:31:05
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Caliente Noche.
Something different, something new.
The novelty is welcome...at first...then becomes familiar.
Will it's luster be lost and tarnish with time, this new quarry?
craig |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 07/27/2005 : 21:23:48
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| Craig, From what I can see of the short run I'd say less than 50 feet. If you saw the vein you would know it could never become familiar. Or duplicated. Too rare. The aquamarine is clear. Like window glass, but fractured. Milky-lit feathery edges. The quarry is out by the Tourmaline Queen. About 50 miles from here. Going out there this weekend. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 07/29/2005 : 20:35:58
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| "...remember History's shadow... Always in doubt." Contemplating the berry-smeared scone he reminds her. His nimble-footed sealegs navigating under the star-crowned mast. She learns to sleep on the weathered deck. Rolling slumber. Slipped into softly as the moon continues to rise. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 07/30/2005 : 18:57:03
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Mirella and I were making Black Forest Cake. A kind of chocolate-cherry concoction for Ralph and Catherine's anniversary party tomorrow night. Catherine's favorite. "My cholesterol dream," she calls it. 8 eggs, 2 sticks of butter, 2 cups of heavy cream, sweet cherries, shaved chocolate, and kirsch. I was beating eggs when I remembered Mick standing at the kitchen table. The oxygen tank at his side. Shuffling my scotch-taped recipes. His deck of magic cards. Laying them out like a hand of Solitaire. "Hah! Red-Eye Gravy on Black Forest Cake!" he said laughing. Even leaning on the back of the chair his hand was quicker than my eye.
Ham and Red-Eye Gravy
1/2 stick butter
1 1/2 pounds Virginia ham in 1/2 inch thick slices
1/4 cup strong coffee
1/2 cup boiling water
hot pepper sauce and black pepper to taste
Saute ham in butter 2 to 3 minutes each side until browned. Transfer to warm platter. Pour coffee and boiling water into pan. Cook on high scraping brown bits of ham approximately 2 minutes. Add hot pepper sauce and pinch of black pepper. Pour over ham. Serve with grits or taters. No okra, please. I bet Bill Smith knows this recipe by heart.
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 07/30/2005 : 19:02:16
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"All is as it should be. Lying here under the stars on this island in space I can see only...peace. So... Close your eyes and let the sky fall softly down. Nothing can harm you. Nothing."
~Mickey Newbury~
'So' is a two syllable word in his mouth.
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Karen Runk
Firefly
USA
4902 Posts |
Posted - 07/30/2005 : 22:08:26
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sorta like "Ji-yum"
Karen Runk |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 07/31/2005 : 17:34:05
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| If you can grill it, we will. Beef. Chicken. Armadillo. A bunch of vegetables Stu hates. "I hate these tiny corns," he says, "I HATE them!" Ralph and Catherine's 6 month Anniversary. Catherine's 74. Ralph's 80. Maybe more. The weather's perect. The Lemon Meringue looks good. The Black Forest seems to be listing to Port. Stu's hooking up a new tank of Propane. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 08/03/2005 : 19:06:58
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| People talk about "seeing" Mick sing. The biggest thing that happens: he opens his eyes, blinks, smiles, closes his eyes and continues. Shocking if you've HEARD him before you've SEEN him. You expect intense passion. MOVEment! Haha. He moves on the inside. Transports you. A power not to be defined. The last few years he tried to stop writing. "...'cause, Ro, I'm jus' too damn tired. But the songs...the songs are there. They won't leave me alone. They wake me up in the middle of the night. They haunt me," The results are Silver Moon Cafe, Long Road Home, Blue To This Day, and 50 to 60 other songs. I imagine a vault somewhere. 24 hour armored guards. All wearing headphones. In a perpetual state of bliss. |
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booty
Sitter
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 08/04/2005 : 21:28:53
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My charge to the casual would be fradulent,
fees
more than necessary of which they could not afford to pay.
I would
give nothing to those riding wild perchance unless I saw
reciprocity.
I would solicit for membership to play the lush greens and be
openly extended all rights and priviledges with my lavish cache.
Down
well lighted streets on the uppermost side I would travel,
and on those unbloched faces there see only indifferent smiles....
if not
for her most inevitable being.
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 08/05/2005 : 19:01:12
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Waterhouse was Mick's second favorite, I THINK..... Next to Monet... Oh my, the paintings that used to pass thru these pages from EVE on the Gulf Ghost...... When we could add our own little things on the old Blue pages.... But i do not long for the old days....I long for the days of the future, where I can run and breathe and be frisky like my mind wants to be...
Hank
I have grown weary of sitting in the back of this smoky cafe watching my money and my
hope disappear... No more defensive play, no more letting the houseman deal... as of now
it changes... Time to kick over the table and scatter the money, break out my own deck and
deal my own game, without explaining the rules...When you decide that you don't give a
damn anymore, then you can even win a hand and sometimes you can even break the house... I
continue to not feel a sense of guilt..
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 08/05/2005 : 20:39:28
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| T'was wonderful, Reverend, wasn't it. Holding the future near. Don't disappear now. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 08/05/2005 : 20:44:20
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| Friday's Freeway mantra. "...keep moving..." |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 08/05/2005 : 20:46:10
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| Under what sky do you travel now, dear Blue? |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 08/05/2005 : 20:59:31
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My sky is coloured by your words...
My sky is what you give to me these days...
My sky is filled with the words
You choose...
Thank you for for the choosing...
Hb
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 08/05/2005 : 21:05:19
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The Fiddler of Dooney
When I play on my fiddle in Dooney.
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.
I passed my brother and cousin:
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.
When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state,
He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;
For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle,
And the merry love to dance:
And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With "Here is the fiddler of Dooney!"
And dance like a wave of the sea.
-William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 08/06/2005 : 11:26:28
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I sit in the back
I sit in the dark
Not nursing my Jameson's...
Hey, it's old enough to know better
Every bottle was born to die...
Carmelita was the kind of a woman
That should come with a Surgeon General's
Warning stenciled on her chest...
"This product may be hazardous to large men
With easy hearts... Use with care..."
When she limped into my life I had been without a woman for a year and a half... Before that I had been with two women since I was nineteen [well, officially; there were a couple off the books]...
I have always been the kind of man that needs someone to fill in the cracks that I can't fill in myself, so it had been a hard year and a half and I was ready, willing and thought myself able to handle one more run thru the desert with a new mare....
Apparently, I was wrong... I said that all I wanted was one night and to move on, but after it happened, she was all I could think about... As I would ride at night, outside of the town, I almost couldn't see the path from the pictures of her body filling my mind...
She wasn't mine to have, but I didn't know that when I gave her my heart... I have stolen wives before, and for a jealous man like me, The Gods seem to have a way of getting even....
Please, Lord, hear me now.... I just want to break even; I just want to break......
Even....
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Edited by - buckman on 08/06/2005 11:39:36 |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1442 Posts |
Posted - 08/06/2005 : 17:18:32
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Afternoon, Reverend B. We're off to the fire rings and Lorenzo's great pizza. Our family. A gang. They give us our own room and let the kids draw on the paper tablecloths. You keep your eyes in the sky now, okay.
"...someday we're all gonna sit down at the big table..." |
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The Nightly Vigil