Friday, December 23, 2005


Listen to my bluebird laugh.

She can't tell you why.

Deep within her heart, you see,

She knows only crying.

Just crying.

There she sits, aloft at perch.

Strangest color blue.

Flying is forgotten now.

Thinks only of you.

Just you.

Oh yeah...

So, get all those blues,

Must be a thousand hues.

And be just differently used.

You just know.

You sit there mesmerized

By the depth of her eyes

That you can't categorize.

She got soul.

She got soul.

She got soul.

She got soul!

Do you think she loves you?

Do you think at all?

Soon she's going to fly away.

Sadness is her own.

Give herself a bath of tears

And go home, and go home.

-Buffalo Springfield-

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Tuna Casserole Tacos

Irrefutable proof of a benevolent and loving god 

Sunday, October 09, 2005

Tales From The Garage, Episode I

This is the motorcycle helmet that I was wearing when I hit a desert range cattle fence about 20 years ago. Stopped the bike cold, threw me about 30 feet through the air into a pile of rocks, resulting in bruised kidneys, a minor concussion, and 2 days in the hospital. If you ride a motorcycle, wear a helmet. Please.

Further evidence that life'll kill ya 

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Livin' Large

A variety of footwear I have worn or am currently wearing which were all purchased at the Bass Outlet store over about the past 10 years. Except for the aquatic tennis shoes, they are all brown and ultimately about a size 9 1/2. The begonia in the background just happened to be there. I'd like to be able to wear begonia's on my feet (and, in reality, who wouldn't).

  • Shoes for industry Compadre'
  • Saturday, October 01, 2005

    Toads Of The Short Forest

    Favorite places within a 10 minute ride from my house: Kuna Butte. A whole lot of nothing, and who could ask for more.

    That's a lot of potatoes 

    Wednesday, September 28, 2005

    The Mackinaw's Are On

    Microwave burritos done right. If I die of a heart attack, this will be the cause.

    Anyway, it's the weekend now and I don't have a thing to do but wallow in splendor for four days. I just stepped out to the quicky mart a few minutes ago for a cup-a-joe. The stereo was playing Bob Dylan's 'Drifters Escape.' It caused me to reflect on my years. The first Bob Dylan record I ever heard was Highway 61 Revisited. I was about 10 years old. I sat down and wrote some dada nonsense Dylan type lyrics. My brother thought they were a riot. At that time I was alternating between Dylan, who I thought had the funniest hairdo, and Frank Zappa, because he sang a song about vegetables. That caught my interest, as my favorite record just before my brother-induced epiphany was a childrens record called 'The Carrot Seed.' So, what the hell happened. Maybe if my parents had bought me that white Stratocaster I wanted when I was 12, instead of a trombone. Thank God for those men or I'd probably be a Mormon Bishop right now. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

    I think it's time for a motorcycle ride.

    Saturday, September 24, 2005

    C'mere Ma, The Hogs'a Got Me!

    This is film can of 30 year old marijuana seeds that I found while cleaning The Garage. They're of no threat to anyone, least of all yourself. So stop worrying about 'menaces to navigation' and too much coriander in the rub.