Bottlencks to creativity
Bottlenecks. That's a kind of weird word although I use it all the time. I used to usually use it in terms of how I was going to get something painted. Although not always. I have also used it in conjunction with poirposes, slide guitars and creativity blockages. Not so much with respect to nasal blockages. I guess some words beg its usage and others do not.
I tell you that to tell you this. Yesterday I brung creative bottlenecks into the house. Well not so much bottlenecks as hinderances. And not so much mental in nature as physical. I'm no mama's boy (usually) but even I cannot type with someone draped luxuriously across the keyboard demanding to be scratched behind the ears...on the butt.....wherever. Just scratch me. Now.
That's right, I went down to the local rescue mission and got me some winos. My how the neighbors stared when I brought them home. Dang jealous neighbors. And besides, they weren't really winos. More like beeros I'd say. I did say.
OK, that's wrong. I have no winos I can call my own. Like I always say, "I'm no actor, but I play one on TV." But what I did do was go down Lithia-Pinecrest road a spell, turn left into the sugar sand dirt parking lot of the blue metal animal shelter building and rescue me a cat. It felt pretty good. So I rescued me another one while I was at it. Now I have me two cats who I can honestly say are real typing impediments. Especially the boy. He's pretty needy. And persistent. And purr-ful.
This is Pepe. He's a boy. He's rambunctious. He points out gekkos and roaches that he thinks might need killing, but I have to do the dirty work.I took 9 different pictures of him just now, mostly capturing either his blurry ear or my PJ clad knee. No, I didn't just wear PJs yesterday. I wear 'em every day. So anyway, I am not a patient photographer. Here's the best one I could get with minimal effort.
This is Yuki. She's a girl. She's mellow. This is kitty and she's here to say/she's a mellow little kitty. Mellow and gray/.... oh, I see I have no hip hop in me this early. That's OK, I think I pretty much peaked with the Oscar Meyer sendup anyway. Anyway, she's a real lap cat and that's ok with me. Sure, she'll rip and tear with Pepe, but it looks to me like he instigates most of it. If they're good today I'm gonna ball up a piece of tin foil and give it to them. It's shiny and fast although experience has shown me that it is drawn with extrordinary frequency to underneath the refrigerator. Yuki, we're ready for your closeup now.
I got me a new coffee mug at the dollar store yesterday. It has a recessed handle, which in my book, and probably your book too although I suppose it's best I not try to speak for you, makes it pretty doggone high falutin'. I photographed it so as not to make you imagine the recessedness of the handle of which I spoke. So go on. Observe. I'll wait.
Now I shall supply a poem from my yout. Yep, still quoting from that comedy classic, MY COUSIN VINNIE.
This was a not so subtle attempt at an "insider" poem. It came out pretty good and was even recorded as a song. You can hear it if I can ever figure out how to record my old cassettes into wav or mp3 files.
THE PRINCE OF PAPER PROMISES
Can you hear it stalking
dancing up and down your spine?
The fear is so exciting
the guilt is solely mine.
The words you know by heart
but the tune is just a ghost.
I'm the prince of paper promises
the king has been dethroned.
Did you hear the sixguns
blazing deep into the night?
Did you hide the evening's sorrows
in the haze behind your eyes?
For even as you run away
the lonely bandit smiles.
You know it's just a sixgun.
He knows you're just a child.
And did you read the papers?
Two more lovers bit the dust.
Such unholy desperados,
another notch that's born of lust.
The sun is setting slowly,
the sons are rising fast.
The first step is the longest
and just may be your last.
Well, it gets so hard to smile
when you're only twenty-one.
When you know that it's all over
though it seems you've just begun.
The laugh tracks cannot cover
those last tracks that you laid.
Not the life that you had asked for
but the life that you have made.
Just like a knight in shining armor
as the rust eats through your heart.
You went tripping through the windowpane
to finish at the start.
While the orange sunshine begged you
to come worship on the coast.
Then forgot to bring along the dreams
and that's what hurt the most.
Well, it gets so hard to smile
when you're only twenty-one.
When it seems that it's all over
though you know it's just begun.
The laugh tracks cannot cover
those last tracks that you laid.
Not the life that you had asked for
but the life that you have made.
Ed
San Diego, CA
15 Jan 1980
Answers to yesterday's disasterous quiz:
ASTRO BOY
MAGILLA GORILLA
SPEED RACER
HONG KONG PHOOEY
JOHNNY QUEST
UNDERDOG
MIGHTY MOUSE
Ciao, main. Out.
Ramblin' Ed
I tell you that to tell you this. Yesterday I brung creative bottlenecks into the house. Well not so much bottlenecks as hinderances. And not so much mental in nature as physical. I'm no mama's boy (usually) but even I cannot type with someone draped luxuriously across the keyboard demanding to be scratched behind the ears...on the butt.....wherever. Just scratch me. Now.
That's right, I went down to the local rescue mission and got me some winos. My how the neighbors stared when I brought them home. Dang jealous neighbors. And besides, they weren't really winos. More like beeros I'd say. I did say.
OK, that's wrong. I have no winos I can call my own. Like I always say, "I'm no actor, but I play one on TV." But what I did do was go down Lithia-Pinecrest road a spell, turn left into the sugar sand dirt parking lot of the blue metal animal shelter building and rescue me a cat. It felt pretty good. So I rescued me another one while I was at it. Now I have me two cats who I can honestly say are real typing impediments. Especially the boy. He's pretty needy. And persistent. And purr-ful.
This is Pepe. He's a boy. He's rambunctious. He points out gekkos and roaches that he thinks might need killing, but I have to do the dirty work.I took 9 different pictures of him just now, mostly capturing either his blurry ear or my PJ clad knee. No, I didn't just wear PJs yesterday. I wear 'em every day. So anyway, I am not a patient photographer. Here's the best one I could get with minimal effort.
This is Yuki. She's a girl. She's mellow. This is kitty and she's here to say/she's a mellow little kitty. Mellow and gray/.... oh, I see I have no hip hop in me this early. That's OK, I think I pretty much peaked with the Oscar Meyer sendup anyway. Anyway, she's a real lap cat and that's ok with me. Sure, she'll rip and tear with Pepe, but it looks to me like he instigates most of it. If they're good today I'm gonna ball up a piece of tin foil and give it to them. It's shiny and fast although experience has shown me that it is drawn with extrordinary frequency to underneath the refrigerator. Yuki, we're ready for your closeup now.
I got me a new coffee mug at the dollar store yesterday. It has a recessed handle, which in my book, and probably your book too although I suppose it's best I not try to speak for you, makes it pretty doggone high falutin'. I photographed it so as not to make you imagine the recessedness of the handle of which I spoke. So go on. Observe. I'll wait.
Now I shall supply a poem from my yout. Yep, still quoting from that comedy classic, MY COUSIN VINNIE.
This was a not so subtle attempt at an "insider" poem. It came out pretty good and was even recorded as a song. You can hear it if I can ever figure out how to record my old cassettes into wav or mp3 files.
THE PRINCE OF PAPER PROMISES
Can you hear it stalking
dancing up and down your spine?
The fear is so exciting
the guilt is solely mine.
The words you know by heart
but the tune is just a ghost.
I'm the prince of paper promises
the king has been dethroned.
Did you hear the sixguns
blazing deep into the night?
Did you hide the evening's sorrows
in the haze behind your eyes?
For even as you run away
the lonely bandit smiles.
You know it's just a sixgun.
He knows you're just a child.
And did you read the papers?
Two more lovers bit the dust.
Such unholy desperados,
another notch that's born of lust.
The sun is setting slowly,
the sons are rising fast.
The first step is the longest
and just may be your last.
Well, it gets so hard to smile
when you're only twenty-one.
When you know that it's all over
though it seems you've just begun.
The laugh tracks cannot cover
those last tracks that you laid.
Not the life that you had asked for
but the life that you have made.
Just like a knight in shining armor
as the rust eats through your heart.
You went tripping through the windowpane
to finish at the start.
While the orange sunshine begged you
to come worship on the coast.
Then forgot to bring along the dreams
and that's what hurt the most.
Well, it gets so hard to smile
when you're only twenty-one.
When it seems that it's all over
though you know it's just begun.
The laugh tracks cannot cover
those last tracks that you laid.
Not the life that you had asked for
but the life that you have made.
Ed
San Diego, CA
15 Jan 1980
Answers to yesterday's disasterous quiz:
ASTRO BOY
MAGILLA GORILLA
SPEED RACER
HONG KONG PHOOEY
JOHNNY QUEST
UNDERDOG
MIGHTY MOUSE
Ciao, main. Out.
Ramblin' Ed
That's what I'm about. Ramblin' Ed at 3:25 AM
4 comments:
Well, just to irritate you , may I point out that your new coffee cup/mug does not have a recessed handle but rather the side of the cup wall is recessed...
I travel on business too much for pets, so yes I'm jealous.
Pipedragger
A tip o' the hat from a household with 5 1/2 cats and 3 dogs. You're a good, kindly man there, Ramblin' Ed.
I am not exactly the cat type myself. I prefer a trusty perro. When I get the chance I will find me a genetically well off mutt. I like the 3rd world look once you fatten them up a little. -Jn
(And I am stealing lines- you have no choice)
Murf, those are my PJs
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