Friday, May 15, 2015

SANDRA GWENDOLYN AND B.B. KING



I had already graduated and gotten my B.A. in English.
I taught for one semester in a small Colorado town, but racial tensions in the school (parents were bringing guns to school and other violent acts were occurring) made me quit before the first semester was over.
I took my last pay check and used it to rent a one-room cottage in the mountains.

I read a lot, burned incense, and listened to Cat Stevens.

When my money ran out I worked on the back of a garbage truck.
It was hard work, but it paid well for only six hours of labor, and I usually finished by 1:00 P.M.

After a few months I retired and became a landscaper.

I moved out of my mountain retreat and rented a "garden" apartment in a three-story building that had two other apartments.

Directly above my apartment was a single mom who lived with her son.
She was an actress, and sometimes the ruckus got a little loud above, but most of the time it was pretty quiet.

Sandra and Gwendolyn shared an apartment on the third story.

I forget how I met both of them, but it was probably just some casual encounter.

Sandy was a theater/dance student, and I think Gwen was a psychology major.

Sandy was petite and thin.

Gwen had more meat on her bones.

Neither was beautiful, but neither was ugly either.

I flirted with both, but I called Sandy "my lady".
(Actually, I said "me lady", and made myself sound more English than American.)

I didn't love Sandra in Love's deepest sense, but I was fond of her.

I was wooing her, but to what end I did not know.

There was no physical attraction, infatuation, or lust.

Sandy’s skin color was turning orange from eating so many carrots.
She seemed to always have a carrot in her hand.
I guess she didn’t want to add too many ounces to her tiny torso.
I could have called her Bugs Bunny, but that thought never crossed my mind.

Gwen was more omnivorous and less fastidious about what she ate.
Her body was also more curvaceous.

I had just ended a relationship with a young woman, and so
I was in no hurry to jump back into the saddle.
Gwen and Sandy were my lady friends and not girlfriends.

This was the time when I had my cat Frieda.
Frieda spent a lot of her time ascending the apartment building’s wooden stairs to visit my friends on the third floor.
And so did I.
I always felt that I was being treated like royalty.
Sandy was a superb host.
She made me feel rich in both body and soul.

Sandy, Gwen and I went to Aspen one weekend (when the Aspen trees were spinning their golden leaves).
Sandy drove her blue Volvo.
We rented a motel room.
Gwen and Sandy slept in the only bed, and I slept on the floor.
I joked that I would sleep between them, but didn’t.

We went to hear B.B. King perform that night.
I walked up and stood beside the stage, and was only a few feet away from B.B. King.
But what had me mesmerized (besides King’s masterful guitar playing) was his harmonica player just an elbow away from where I stood.
And there he stood, his body swaying back and forth, his harmonica in his hands, which were also moving back and forth to his face, and the harmonica never quite getting to his mouth.
I wondered to myself, “Can he even play? He looks drunk.”I think he was intoxicated.
His mouth finally made contact with his harmonica.
MAN COULD HE EVER PLAY THAT HARMONICA!

After the concert, I took Sandy for rides on my back in the park.
And we played hide and seek.

Not much happened after our weekend excursion.
I saw Sandy and Gwen less and less.
Sandy was spending most of her time with a theater director.
I think his name was Michael.

I do remember my last goodbye to Sandy (or rather hers to me).
She simply said, “Take care of your heart.”
I have tried, Sandy, I have tried.Postscript:Two other memories:
Sandy gave me a beautiful print for my birthday which I keep next to my computer here at the high school where I teach.
It is called THE HINDOO MAIDEN. On the back of it is an excerpt from an e.e. cummings poem.
I gave Sandy the original of my poem called 
BAGGY POCKETS.
It was written with purple ink from a fountain pen.
I hope she still has my poem.
I wish I knew where Sandy was today.




Baggy Pockets


The ocean roars like a mad god
Who has slammed a sandy door on man
The waves rush across my mind
And I look upon the
ocean floor:
Diamonds inside buried treasures from chests of
ancient lore.
A golden ring and a crown of a king
Inside a toy jukebox that makes me sing
A silk handkerchief once inside a pirate's pocket
Now beside a modern rocket
With Jesus' cross all rusted and cracked
Does Santa have a new one packed?
Skeletons of drunk Norsemen with their insane swords
Still shining and ready to use in today's cancerous wars
Sipping mead with a few Greek gods from the Peloponnesian war
And at Gawain's side sits young David, shaking on Goliath's shoulders
Looking at Columbus who has just landed for a second time
To come and take America back to the Indian's fort
But like Robin Hood in a TV commercial
Columbus sells his act for a profit
To keep making crazy rockets and keep filling baggy pockets
With silver, platinum, and gold.



NOTE:
 I wrote this poem in the early 70's when I was in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park.




IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES!






Saturday, May 02, 2015

Homo gizmos







All of our little gadgets are taking over our lives.

We have gadgets for this and gadgets for that---
Apps for this and and apps for that.

We sit, stand and walk around holding gadgets to our faces, our thumbs continuously pressing down buttons a mile and message a minute.

We are becoming the gadgets we use.

We are losing our humanness to things.

Homo sapiens are becoming (or have become) Homo gizmos.

I exclude myself from this madding crowd of gadgeteers.

I keep a simpler...

more civilized (?) life.

I prefer the sweet scent of jasmine flowers.

I have a simple phone with---yes---big numbers.

I do not text or use the Internet on my phone.

I get by just fine without apps.

I am not a gadgeteer.

Is it one-upping and peer pressure that make gadgeteers want to have the same little devices, and more and better ones than all the other gadgetEers?

Intelligent robots of tomorrow will have us right where they need us to be:

Glued to our gadgets!






IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES AND GADGETS!

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

THE EYES HAVE GOT IT







I wanted to be an artist when I was young.

I never dreamed that I would become a poet, OR THAT I WOULD ENJOY WRITING poems.

I took the Famous Artists Test and received a B+.

I did it!

They said that I WAS AN ARTIST.

OR MAYBE IT WAS ONLY ME WHO SAID THAT.

I had drawn ONLY one eye on the test.

I still draw eyes.

I like eyes.


MY EYE WAS NOT AS GOOD AS M.C. ESCHER'S:





shakespeare got it right about  eyes:

The Eyes are the window to your soul”.


AND TO THE SOUL OF OTHERS.


HERE ARE SOME GOOD EYE QUOTES:










IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES AND EYES!





Saturday, April 04, 2015

THE HEADHUNTER

This is not me, but it's what I looked like after my scalping.

I went to get my hair cut today.
The place is called the HEAD HUNTER, and I had gone there before.
An Asian woman works there alone.

The place has six folding chairs, and on each seat sits one clean, white towel.
The place also has two signs that sit on a step ladder which read:
TAKE PHONE OUTSIDE
and
PLEASE SIT DOWN.
I turned off my phone after I had sat down.

The HEAD HUNTER has eight photographs of men with different hair styles.
On each photograph is a number.
On my previous visit the woman had asked me to pick which hair style I wanted.
I forget which one I picked.
Today I had plenty of time to choose.
I was having trouble deciding.
One style (Number 4) that I liked would keep my hair about the same length.
Another style (Number 5) was a bit shorter.
The third (Number 2) was a lot shorter, but not real short.
I picked this one.
After I sat down, the woman asked, “How do you want your hair cut?”
I said, “Like in picture number two.”

The haircut would probably have proceeded fine had I not confused the woman when I said, “I want the front short...I don't want bangs.”
The woman didn't say anything or even make a sound.

The Christian songs kept playing on the radio inside the HEAD HUNTER.
The woman likes Christian songs.
Some of them are quite good.

The haircut was finished.
It looked pretty good from the front.
No bangs.
I paid the woman five dollars.
(She does not accept tips.)

When I got home I held a mirror to the back of my head.
NO HAIR!
I had been scalped!
The woman had not understood me after all.
One granddaughter told me, “You look bald”, and indeed I did, and that was the bad news.

The good news was that the woman in the HEAD HUNTER had not removed my head.




IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES HAIRCUTS AND COMMUNICATION!








Sunday, March 29, 2015

IS ANYONE OUT THERE AND DO WE WANT TO FIND OUT?


Former NASA engineer claims he saw a NINE FOOT alien on 1991 space mission
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3016514/Former-NASA-engineer-claims-saw-NINE-FOOT-alien-1991-space-mission.html

*










Stop looking for extraterrestrials.


They will find us--- sooner or later---if they haven't already.


Read a book.


Relax.


We've got lasers.


We're ready.


As a U.S. President once said, “Bring 'em on!”






Niobi:
It's still snowing in Boston on the Earth.


Xenon:
That's fine, but I'm more concerned about what the human animals are doing.


Niobi:
What are they doing, besides killing each other and destroying their ecosystem?


Xenon:
The animals are itching to find us.


Niobi:
But we have nothing to fear.


Xenon:
Yes we do. These animals are vile, violent and vainglorious.


Niobi:
We can swat them as they do their flies if they get too close to us.


Xenon:
Yes, but the Galactic Council is recommending invasion and neutralization before these monstrosities get any closer.


Niobi:
When?


Xenon:
On their Christmas day next year.


Niobi:
They will be busy opening presents.


Xenon:
Right.





IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES AND EXTRATERRESTRIALS!

Time Capsule

The cold machines from earth
Traveled as far as they could
And traveled empty paths
Through endless spaces
Filled with myriad stars and
Galaxies
For one thousand years.

It didn't matter, after all,
Since life on earth as men
Had known it was gone
And the men, the intelligent
Knowers and machine-lover-makers
Had also disappeared.
The sun never felt a thing
And God remained inside
His big laboratory quietly thinking
About what to do next.
By M.L. Squier

Sunday, March 08, 2015

THE BARE FACTS








Dr. Seuss, you HAVE been a naughty boy!

All of this time we---and by we I mean children---thought that you were a decent and upstanding fellow.

But now we have learned that you once published a book about naked ladies:



Shocking, shocking, shocking!

The bare-butted lady was none other than Mrs. Lady Godiva.

In fact, the tale---or should I say the tail?---of Lady Godiva and her horsey ride never took place.

Her tale (or tail) was never seen--- nor wAS the horse'S TAIL:

A fascinating piece of history. But as it happens, most medieval scholars agree the ride never took place.”



Nonetheless, the news about Dr. Seuss's book is interesting.

He naturally wanted to make a buck by exposing Lady Godiva's butt---or rather her seven butts.

But the public back then (unlike today?) was not that interested in purchasing a book about naked ladies and their butts.

The public's eyes today want to see as many butts as possible---the bigger the better.

Just ask Kim Kardashian, and all of her BIG BUTT WANNABES.

The human form can be a thing of beauty, as many sculptors and painters have shown us.

Although a few cultures and religions are ashamed to see naked butts and (and other body parts)---and prohibit such exhibitions---this is a minority view in the world.

*

Although Beauty is Truth, and Truth is Beauty---Big Butts have Big Benefits:






P.S.
From Wikipedia:

Scopophilia or scoptophilia (from Greek σκοπέω skopeō, "look to, examine" and φιλία philia, "tendency toward"), is deriving pleasure from looking. As an expression of sexuality, it refers to sexual pleasure derived from looking at erotic objects: erotic photographs, pornography, naked bodies, etc.





IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES AND BIG BUTTS!


Sunday, March 01, 2015

GOOD NEWS BAD NEWS








GOOD NEWS:
Smoking pot is now legal in Washington, D.C.

BAD NEWS:
Republicans won't be SMOKING IT.

*

GOOD NEWS:
Mitt Romney will not run in the 2016 Presidential election.

BAD NEWS:
Rick Perry is and Sarah Palin might be.

*

GOOD NEWS:
Speaker of the House of Representatives John Boehner said that everything he knows he learned inside a bar.

BAD NEWS:
Representative Boehner is still inside a bar.

*

GOOD NEWS:
Madonna continued to perform at the Brit Awards after she fell off the stage.

BAD NEWS:
She suffered whiplash, and she still isn't a virgin.

*

GOOD NEWS:
The Buff Orpington hen named Ping Pong layed a perfectly spherical egg.

BAD NEWS:
We still don't know which came first: The chicken or the egg?

*








GOOD NEWS:


dONALD TRUMP STILL WEARS

THAT ORANGE THING ON HIS

HEAD.



BAD NEWS:


dONALD TRUMP IS STILL AN

IDIOT:



"This very expensive 

GLOBAL


WARMING bullshit has got


to stop. Our planet is


freezing, record 

low temps, 


and our GW scientists are


stuck in ice."


Donald Trump







IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES!