The Paint Job, Ten, Cookie

I think that I have finally come to the realization that my parents are almost there. By there I mean the point where they need help to do regular things. My Dad's eyes are so bad, he is legally blind, but in his stubbornness wanted to paint the his second house by himself. Knowing that he can't see to well my mom asked me to go over after he had finished and do some touch ups. My dad was there when I arrived, and he knew why I was, there but didn't bring it up.He just told me that the last bedroom needed to be finished. I proceeded to paint the entire basement again, of which I am not complaining about, but was gracious for the eyes to see it.

While painting I left my mp3 player at home and pulled out some old Cd's from our collection. Almost 16 years ago an album was realeased that changed my life. The album is obviously "Ten" by Pearl Jam. I listened to the album 4 straight times while painting and thought of "Jeremy" painting the wall of his school classroom. There is something to say about Pearl Jam being the only band left from the 3-4 year period we called grunge, but can now call really good music.

Our family dog Cookie was "put to sleep" this week, there are times when I wish I could just be "put to sleep". I am working on a poem about this but can't really put in words quite yet the feeling.

I am not a baby boomer

Where are my depressions and my picture perfect home?
I left my Woodstock and drugs sitting on the counter
of my cold war and Vietnam. I need a drink of freedom
and piece of Berlin’s wall. I will have to download them
on my I phone.

Middle of the Month

I’m like a rent check that
you hold on to until, I
Clear or come.
I’ll place my cherubim
and flaming sword
in your tree of life—
knowing good from evil.
The cables out, rabbit ears
are broken, like bread
we break and partake.

Too little secrets
Two little secrets
To lit tell seek rats
toilet hell socrates
toil let hell soak rates
toil kelso a crates
two elk sow acres
twelk so wac cries
wilcso wake cry is
will is awake crazy
willis away crazy
wheel us way crazy
we'll sway crazy
wheels acrizy
wilsacrazy
will sack racy

A Crazy Month

Seven Jazz games a baby and finals week and we are finally back into a regular routine. Some stuff that I have been working on lately.


It has been said that man can only think five seconds in the present time, and that all the other time we are thinking, it is either in the past or the future tense. Are we so consumed with our memories and future events that we cannot think in the moment, or is the moment so real and so dangerous, five seconds is all we can handle? Is every future thought just an outstretched memory of some part of life that we have already tought of.