Life springs eternal
On a gaudy neon street
Not that I care at all
I spent the best part of my losing streak
In an Army Jeep
For what I can't recall
Oh I'm banging on my TV set
And I check the odds
And I place my bet
I pour a drink
And I pull the blinds
And I wonder what I'll find
I'm Leaving Las Vegas
Lights so bright
Palm sweat, blackjack
On a Saturday night
Leaving Las Vegas
Leaving for good, for good
I'm leaving for good
....Until the next time...
Dont drive no big black car
Dont like no hollywood movie star
You want me to be true to you
You dont give a damn what I do to you
Im just a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy,
Well, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy,
Ive been in trouble since I dont know when
Im in trouble now and I now somehow Ill find trouble again
Im a loner, but Im never alone
Every night I get one step closer to the danger zone
cause Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy,
Hey, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah,
Great Track, plays well in Paris at the Fashion shows.....
Sitting in a Flat in London.
I'm sitting in a flat in London reminiscing about days gone by, and how I miss the the blond haired girl from San Francisco with those fiery eyes and cherry smile.
How we made love that night on the beach, our hands finding their way instead of light. I remember how our kisses mixed with the salt air and musk..... and when it was time for her to go, I lost my phone in the sand. I always took the damn thing with me, not wanting to miss anything important. But when I was with her, that's what was important....her smile was enough to communicate all that I had ever wanted to say. To anyone.
And her eyes. Have you ever been with someone who has the eyes of Persephone and how you feel them sweetly burn you? Thinking of the seasons past, I get up to turn off my phone (for no reason but to be closer to her) and I think, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Remembering how the beach gate was locked when we tried to get out, me struggling to climb an iron fence, whilst she just lifted her wings, gently drifting over those piercing stakes of iron. And I'm woundering whether I'd be impaled on the way up, (or perhaps on the way down?) on those stalks, standing like a church, meant to either keep someone in or something out......but over I did get, (but not without tearing muscles in the process), muscles that still twinge in the Autumn chill when I think of her, these long years later....I even no do ask. Is it a tinge or an ache?....an ache to hold those arms once again, to touch and caress a body that loved to play in the nights damp air, or hands that tightly held mine in a Broadway theatre.....and now thinking, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Today as the rain beats down, and the flowers in their vase are almost at an end, I have to move on. But the wind makes me think of the time we were under the Golden Gate watching ships gently enter the harbour, and the waves lapping at our feet, sea spraying our faces. Her licking the salt off my cheek......me holding her for warmth and she for strength. Or was it the other way around?
And I'm thinking, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
On Thursdays, walking to the Balboa Cafe, skipping out of mundane conference calls, meeting to sip Martini's with her. Entering the cafe in the late afternoon, seeing her waiting for me.....with those fiery eyes her cherry smile.
And I kissing her gently behind the ear, and her scent.......oh that smell.....You know she's been to the beach, walking amongst her thoughts, the seashells and the sky.....she smells of the Bay, and you lean over, compelled (or perhaps commanded) by the afternoons sun, as it caresses the Marina like the hands of a Mother bathing her child......oh to kiss her again, to touch the inside of her mouth.
But you don't.......you just touch her lips, breathing in, and the sea and her salt breathes in with you.....bottom lips touching, and mine finding they're way past her cheek to caress butterfly lashes......and I think.....how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
I'm sitting in front of an Autumns fire, watching the rain wash the streets of another city I call home, and I think.....how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
I'm sitting in a flat in London reminiscing about days gone by, and how I miss the the blond haired girl from San Francisco with those fiery eyes and cherry smile.
How we made love that night on the beach, our hands finding their way instead of light. I remember how our kisses mixed with the salt air and musk..... and when it was time for her to go, I lost my phone in the sand. I always took the damn thing with me, not wanting to miss anything important. But when I was with her, that's what was important....her smile was enough to communicate all that I had ever wanted to say. To anyone.
And her eyes. Have you ever been with someone who has the eyes of Persephone and how you feel them sweetly burn you? Thinking of the seasons past, I get up to turn off my phone (for no reason but to be closer to her) and I think, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Remembering how the beach gate was locked when we tried to get out, me struggling to climb an iron fence, whilst she just lifted her wings, gently drifting over those piercing stakes of iron. And I'm woundering whether I'd be impaled on the way up, (or perhaps on the way down?) on those stalks, standing like a church, meant to either keep someone in or something out......but over I did get, (but not without tearing muscles in the process), muscles that still twinge in the Autumn chill when I think of her, these long years later....I even no do ask. Is it a tinge or an ache?....an ache to hold those arms once again, to touch and caress a body that loved to play in the nights damp air, or hands that tightly held mine in a Broadway theatre.....and now thinking, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Today as the rain beats down, and the flowers in their vase are almost at an end, I have to move on. But the wind makes me think of the time we were under the Golden Gate watching ships gently enter the harbour, and the waves lapping at our feet, sea spraying our faces. Her licking the salt off my cheek......me holding her for warmth and she for strength. Or was it the other way around?
And I'm thinking, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
On Thursdays, walking to the Balboa Cafe, skipping out of mundane conference calls, meeting to sip Martini's with her. Entering the cafe in the late afternoon, seeing her waiting for me.....with those fiery eyes her cherry smile.
And I kissing her gently behind the ear, and her scent.......oh that smell.....You know she's been to the beach, walking amongst her thoughts, the seashells and the sky.....she smells of the Bay, and you lean over, compelled (or perhaps commanded) by the afternoons sun, as it caresses the Marina like the hands of a Mother bathing her child......oh to kiss her again, to touch the inside of her mouth.
But you don't.......you just touch her lips, breathing in, and the sea and her salt breathes in with you.....bottom lips touching, and mine finding they're way past her cheek to caress butterfly lashes......and I think.....how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
I'm sitting in front of an Autumns fire, watching the rain wash the streets of another city I call home, and I think.....how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
NEW YORK (Reuters) - Three quarters of Americans can correctly identify two of Snow White's seven dwarfs while only a quarter can name two Supreme Court Justices, according to a poll on pop culture released on Monday.
According to the 57 percent of Americans could identify J.K. Rowling's fictional boy wizard as Harry Potter, while only 50 percent could name the British prime minister, Tony Blair.
The pollsters spoke to 1,213 people across the United States. The results had a margin of error of 2.9 percentage points.
Just over 60 percent of respondents were able to name Bart as Homer's son on the television show "The Simpsons," while only 20.5 percent were able to name one of the ancient Greek poet Homer's epic poems, "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey."
Asked what planet Superman was from, 60 percent named the fictional planet Krypton, while only 37 percent knew that Mercury is the planet closest to the sun.
Respondents were far more familiar with the Three Stooges -- Larry, Curly and Moe -- than the three branches of the U.S. government -- judicial, executive and legislative. Seventy-four percent identified the former, 42 percent the latter.
Don't you just love the American School System????
According to the 57 percent of Americans could identify J.K. Rowling's fictional boy wizard as Harry Potter, while only 50 percent could name the British prime minister, Tony Blair.
The pollsters spoke to 1,213 people across the United States. The results had a margin of error of 2.9 percentage points.
Just over 60 percent of respondents were able to name Bart as Homer's son on the television show "The Simpsons," while only 20.5 percent were able to name one of the ancient Greek poet Homer's epic poems, "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey."
Asked what planet Superman was from, 60 percent named the fictional planet Krypton, while only 37 percent knew that Mercury is the planet closest to the sun.
Respondents were far more familiar with the Three Stooges -- Larry, Curly and Moe -- than the three branches of the U.S. government -- judicial, executive and legislative. Seventy-four percent identified the former, 42 percent the latter.
Don't you just love the American School System????
..this just in from the Darwin Awards....
Alan, a 43-year-old electrician, was hanging out with his 17-year-old son and the son's girlfriend. They were feeling cooped up, so they hopped the back fence to play by the railroad tracks that ran behind it.
Alan thought it would be a blast to watch a shopping cart being dragged by a train. He tied one end of a 20-foot rope to the shopping cart, and the other end to a full water bottle, as a weight.
When an 86-car Union Pacific freight train rumbled through at 15 mph, Alan stood behind the cart and hurled the bottle at the train. The bottle broke! So he tied another bottle to the rope. Standing in front of the cart, he lobbed the bottle under the train and gleefully noted that his plan worked this time--until the shopping cart whipped into him, and dragged him over a mile along the tracks, reportedly pulling up two spikes in the process.
"Dope on a Rope" is the search-and-rescue nickname for dangling a rescuer under a helicopter on a fixed rope, as opposed to a powered hoist, to assist a victim. -Brent Chapman
A spokesman for the Federal Railroad Administration said this was "an extremely unusual occurrence." Alan was dead before the engineer could stop the train. His son told reporters, "He was just the funniest guy." After the incident, Simi Valley Police Sgt. Joe May warned pedestrians not to loiter near train tracks.
Duh.
Alan, a 43-year-old electrician, was hanging out with his 17-year-old son and the son's girlfriend. They were feeling cooped up, so they hopped the back fence to play by the railroad tracks that ran behind it.
Alan thought it would be a blast to watch a shopping cart being dragged by a train. He tied one end of a 20-foot rope to the shopping cart, and the other end to a full water bottle, as a weight.
When an 86-car Union Pacific freight train rumbled through at 15 mph, Alan stood behind the cart and hurled the bottle at the train. The bottle broke! So he tied another bottle to the rope. Standing in front of the cart, he lobbed the bottle under the train and gleefully noted that his plan worked this time--until the shopping cart whipped into him, and dragged him over a mile along the tracks, reportedly pulling up two spikes in the process.
"Dope on a Rope" is the search-and-rescue nickname for dangling a rescuer under a helicopter on a fixed rope, as opposed to a powered hoist, to assist a victim. -Brent Chapman
A spokesman for the Federal Railroad Administration said this was "an extremely unusual occurrence." Alan was dead before the engineer could stop the train. His son told reporters, "He was just the funniest guy." After the incident, Simi Valley Police Sgt. Joe May warned pedestrians not to loiter near train tracks.
Duh.
Dumb Questions......people ask me.
A stitch in time saves nine what?
After eating, do amphibians have to wait one hour before getting out of the water?
Are female moths called myths?
Are part-time band leaders semi-conductors?
Are there any unguided missiles?
Are you breaking the law if you drive past those road signs that say "Do Not Pass"?
Are you telling the truth if you lie in bed?
Before they invented drawing boards, what did they go back to?
Can a stupid person be a smart-ass?
Can fat people go skinny-dipping?
Could crop-circles be the work of a cereal killer?
Crime doesn't pay... does that mean my job is a crime?
Day light savings time - why are they saving it and where do they keep it?
Did Noah keep his bees in archives?
Do blind dogs have seeing-eye humans?
Do blind Eskimos have seeing-eye sled dogs?
Do boxer shorts box?
Do cemetery workers prefer the graveyard shift?
Do clowns wear really big socks?
Do crematoriums give discounts to burn victims?
Do files get embarrassed when they get unzipped?
Do fish get thirsty?
Do hummingbirds hum because they don't know the words?
Do hungry crows have ravenous appetites?
Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
Do jellyfish get gas from eating jellybeans?
Do mass murderers kill only in church?
Do people in Australia call the rest of the world 'up over'?
Do pilots take crash-courses?
Do Roman paramedics refer to IV's as "4's"?
Do stars clean themselves with meteor showers?
Do steam rollers really roll steam?
Do television evangelists do more than lay people?
Do vampires get AIDS?
Do vegetarians eat animal crackers?
Do you need a silencer if you are going to shoot a mime?
Do you realize how many holes there could be if people would just take the time to take the dirt out of them?
Does a man-eating shark eat women, too?
Does an analyst have to be anal? --Adam Rifkin
Does killing time damage eternity?
Does that screwdriver belong to Phillip?
Does the Little Mermaid wear an algebra?
Have you ever imagined a world with no hypothetical situations?
Have you ever seen a toad on a toadstool?
Have you ever wondered?
How can someone "draw a blank"?
How can there be self-help "groups"?
How can you tell when it is time to tune your bagpipes?
How come chocolate milk doesn't come from brown cows?
How come wrong numbers are never busy?
How dead is the Dead Sea?
How do I set my laser printer on stun?
How do they get the "Keep off the Grass" sign on the grass?
How do you get off a nonstop flight?
How do you know if honesty is the best policy unless you've tried some of the others?
How do you know when you've run out of invisible ink?
How do you throw away a garbage can?
How does the guy who drives the snowplow get to work in the mornings?
How is it possible to have a "civil" war?
How is it possible to run out of space?
How long is the long arm of the law?
How many people does it take to change a searchlight bulb?
How many weeks are there in a light year?
How much can I get away with and still go to heaven?
How much milk is there in the Milky Way?
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
How old would you be if you didn't know how old you was? --Satchel Paige
If 7-11 is open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, why are there locks on the doors?
If a candle factory burns down, does everyone just stand around and sing "Happy Birthday?"
If a fly has no wings would you call him a walk?
If you ate pasta and antipasta, would you still be hungry?
A stitch in time saves nine what?
After eating, do amphibians have to wait one hour before getting out of the water?
Are female moths called myths?
Are part-time band leaders semi-conductors?
Are there any unguided missiles?
Are you breaking the law if you drive past those road signs that say "Do Not Pass"?
Are you telling the truth if you lie in bed?
Before they invented drawing boards, what did they go back to?
Can a stupid person be a smart-ass?
Can fat people go skinny-dipping?
Could crop-circles be the work of a cereal killer?
Crime doesn't pay... does that mean my job is a crime?
Day light savings time - why are they saving it and where do they keep it?
Did Noah keep his bees in archives?
Do blind dogs have seeing-eye humans?
Do blind Eskimos have seeing-eye sled dogs?
Do boxer shorts box?
Do cemetery workers prefer the graveyard shift?
Do clowns wear really big socks?
Do crematoriums give discounts to burn victims?
Do files get embarrassed when they get unzipped?
Do fish get thirsty?
Do hummingbirds hum because they don't know the words?
Do hungry crows have ravenous appetites?
Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
Do jellyfish get gas from eating jellybeans?
Do mass murderers kill only in church?
Do people in Australia call the rest of the world 'up over'?
Do pilots take crash-courses?
Do Roman paramedics refer to IV's as "4's"?
Do stars clean themselves with meteor showers?
Do steam rollers really roll steam?
Do television evangelists do more than lay people?
Do vampires get AIDS?
Do vegetarians eat animal crackers?
Do you need a silencer if you are going to shoot a mime?
Do you realize how many holes there could be if people would just take the time to take the dirt out of them?
Does a man-eating shark eat women, too?
Does an analyst have to be anal? --Adam Rifkin
Does killing time damage eternity?
Does that screwdriver belong to Phillip?
Does the Little Mermaid wear an algebra?
Have you ever imagined a world with no hypothetical situations?
Have you ever seen a toad on a toadstool?
Have you ever wondered?
How can someone "draw a blank"?
How can there be self-help "groups"?
How can you tell when it is time to tune your bagpipes?
How come chocolate milk doesn't come from brown cows?
How come wrong numbers are never busy?
How dead is the Dead Sea?
How do I set my laser printer on stun?
How do they get the "Keep off the Grass" sign on the grass?
How do you get off a nonstop flight?
How do you know if honesty is the best policy unless you've tried some of the others?
How do you know when you've run out of invisible ink?
How do you throw away a garbage can?
How does the guy who drives the snowplow get to work in the mornings?
How is it possible to have a "civil" war?
How is it possible to run out of space?
How long is the long arm of the law?
How many people does it take to change a searchlight bulb?
How many weeks are there in a light year?
How much can I get away with and still go to heaven?
How much milk is there in the Milky Way?
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
How old would you be if you didn't know how old you was? --Satchel Paige
If 7-11 is open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, why are there locks on the doors?
If a candle factory burns down, does everyone just stand around and sing "Happy Birthday?"
If a fly has no wings would you call him a walk?
If you ate pasta and antipasta, would you still be hungry?
Obituary
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend,
Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure
how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in
bureaucratic red tape.
He will be remembered as having cultivated such
valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early
bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my
fault. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend
more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not
children, are in charge).
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well
intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of
a six-year- old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a
classmate; teenssuspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch;
and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only
worsened his condition.
Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked
teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their
unruly children.
It declined even further when schools were required to
get parental consent to administer Asprin, sun lotion or a Sticking
Plaster to a student - but could not inform the parents when a
student became
pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten
Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, and criminals
received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend
yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you
for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live after a
woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She
spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents,
Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and
his son, Reason.
He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know My
Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm A Victim. Not many attended his
funeral because so few realized he was gone.
If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join
the majority and do nothing.
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend,
Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure
how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in
bureaucratic red tape.
He will be remembered as having cultivated such
valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early
bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my
fault. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend
more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not
children, are in charge).
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well
intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of
a six-year- old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a
classmate; teenssuspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch;
and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only
worsened his condition.
Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked
teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their
unruly children.
It declined even further when schools were required to
get parental consent to administer Asprin, sun lotion or a Sticking
Plaster to a student - but could not inform the parents when a
student became
pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten
Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, and criminals
received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend
yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you
for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live after a
woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She
spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents,
Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and
his son, Reason.
He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know My
Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm A Victim. Not many attended his
funeral because so few realized he was gone.
If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join
the majority and do nothing.
...another great missive.
one thirty-six a.m.
I laugh sometimes when I think about
say
Céline at a typewriter
or Dostoevsky...
or Hamsun...
ordinary men with feet, ears, eyes,
ordinary men with hair on their heads
sitting there typing words
while having difficulties with life
while being puzzled almost to madness.
Dostoevsky gets up
he leaves the machine to piss,
comes back
drinks a glass of milk and thinks about
the casino and
the roulette wheel.
Céline stops, gets up, walks to the
window, looks out, thinks, my last patient
died today, I won't have to make any more
visits there.
when I saw him last
he paid his doctor bill;
it's those who don't pay their bills,
they live on and on.
Céline walks back, sits down at the
machine
is still for a good two minutes
then begins to type.
Hamsun stands over his machine thinking,
I wonder if they are going to believe
all these things I write?
he sits down, begins to type.
he doesn't know what a writer's block
is:
he's a prolific son-of-a-bitch
damn near as magnificent as
the sun.
he types away.
and I laugh
not out loud
but all up and down these walls, these
dirty yellow and blue walls
my white cat asleep on the
table
hiding his eyes from the
light.
he's not alone tonight
and neither am
I.
©2001 Linda Lee Bukowski
one thirty-six a.m.
I laugh sometimes when I think about
say
Céline at a typewriter
or Dostoevsky...
or Hamsun...
ordinary men with feet, ears, eyes,
ordinary men with hair on their heads
sitting there typing words
while having difficulties with life
while being puzzled almost to madness.
Dostoevsky gets up
he leaves the machine to piss,
comes back
drinks a glass of milk and thinks about
the casino and
the roulette wheel.
Céline stops, gets up, walks to the
window, looks out, thinks, my last patient
died today, I won't have to make any more
visits there.
when I saw him last
he paid his doctor bill;
it's those who don't pay their bills,
they live on and on.
Céline walks back, sits down at the
machine
is still for a good two minutes
then begins to type.
Hamsun stands over his machine thinking,
I wonder if they are going to believe
all these things I write?
he sits down, begins to type.
he doesn't know what a writer's block
is:
he's a prolific son-of-a-bitch
damn near as magnificent as
the sun.
he types away.
and I laugh
not out loud
but all up and down these walls, these
dirty yellow and blue walls
my white cat asleep on the
table
hiding his eyes from the
light.
he's not alone tonight
and neither am
I.
©2001 Linda Lee Bukowski
We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.
Bukowski
Bukowski
