Wednesday, September 27, 2006


Lz sent this to me today. Reminicent of the death by cheese-grater days. Mmmm those were good days.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006


I don’t know that I realize it before I start but every time I come home from a while away I play the same game and I think something similar before I leave. And I always look for the same things first though they aren’t the same any more. When I spin into my driveway I am waiting for a spunky puppy to come tearing around from the back of the garage or when I am not met there at least a stiff old one to sheepishly haul her arthritic self off of the couch. But there is no dog. Instead there are puffball kittens and half cats and a lithe and lanky yellow eyed wee-beast waiting for me mowling. And I wander around back to check on the trees I know and the garden growing things. The pond is nearly empty and only has 3 frogs and no ducks. Strange. There are chickens. There are always chickens. Sometimes more sometimes less always different colors. Chickens. Check. And then I look to the last patch of sun on the back porch for the orange tripod that never really quite acted like a cat anyways. But of course he is not there. These two are buried side by side like they slept near the rock pile at the edge of the woods. If you were some how wondering, this is what I meant (It’s like coming home in the twilight when everyone else is gone.) though I suppose there were twinges of amber and orange. Let's call them ghosts. Welcome Home. -Jn

Friday, September 22, 2006

Caryatids are not Katydids

A Beast Called Sorrow (9/22/06 RRC)

Deceptions become repetitions
To perpetuate the hurt received.
Never finding peace
But searching all the while
In a style recognized by gangsters cowboys and the like.
It’s an open mic.
Tell me your fears and dreams and then
I’ll share mine
Just like every time.
Except I don’t expect a solution to the problem
I’ve come to love as me,
And what I do and what I see is
Tainted by the sorrow I claim only as my own.
It’s like coming home in the twilight
When everyone else is gone.
Slightly bruised pride purple splashed against the walls
And an echo in the halls,
But though you want to run,
It’s where you need to be.
Please don’t try to take from me
This beast that I have tamed
Even named
For sorrow is sweet,
When the leaves have fallen away
And on special gray days
When the flowers mourn
Because they’re not quite as bright
And on those nights when the hurts are remembered.
They’re dying embers,
But child still don’t touch.
Meddle in the fire too much and
You will be burned in the self-same way.
Maybe then we can share this pain.


Tuesday, September 19, 2006

I forgot about her

A Daughter Of Eve
by Christina Georgina Rossetti

A fool I was to sleep at noon,
And wake when night is chilly
Beneath the comfortless cold moon;
A fool to pluck my rose too soon,
A fool to snap my lily.

My garden-plot I have not kept;
Faded and all-forsaken,
I weep as I have never wept:
Oh it was summer when I slept,
It's winter now I waken.

Talk what you please of future spring
And sun-warm'd sweet to-morrow:--
Stripp'd bare of hope and everything,
No more to laugh, no more to sing,
I sit alone with sorrow.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


Coal Miner’s Daughter (9/12/06 - RRC)

Pondering what it means to be a coal miner’s daughter
I can’t help playing in the water
And I like to watch it as it goes
Coming down in rains and snows
And piling up in pools behind a beaver’s master piece
Filled with water-weeds for the geese
And I like to watch the trees turning red
Before they are forced to disrobe in the cold
It shows what you know
When you name them by feel
Makes them real
And I like their hidden rings
Because there’s beauty in seldom seen things
Like the dark bands round the earth
That fuel the lights of the night
Globe round and in your town
And the water shouldn’t turn rust-brown
But you find a better way
It’s not to say that I don’t care
I know what’s there
And what it means to take away
I know how red blood can be
When you fell a beast
But in the least I’m thankful
For the chance to understand
For these hands to know the textures of a life
And the colors to be seen beneath the skin
Maybe it’s a sin to dig to the earths black
But stand back and tell me
How you keep your hands clean
When you tell them they can’t cook
Or have lights to read
Because there is no steam
Have you ever thought it through?
And what do you do to make acid rain?
We’re all stained- guilty for living
And for passing around the blame
Really we all stand the same
Though you choose to look away
Or shake your fists at my father
But what do I know
I’m just a coal miner’s daughter


Monday, September 11, 2006

You mean I don't live here?

Interesting....I like the Beverly house. I dont think I want to leave ever. It is prudent that I leave on Thursday as that is the day that my itty-bitty lease runs out. Maybe if I buy them some beer. Work is bouncing between overnights and days and split shifts which are just my gosh awful favorite. It's getting about time to go home. Pitty. I have lots of people to play with up here. I'm around for another week or so, then this homelessness business will end. I do miss PA. I just wish there was a more direct route from Boston to my end or that maybe it wasn't quite so far away. I should visit ALL the time. I should get a car that runs on H2O while I am at it. Silly financial instability. My Saturday went like...taking a nap after work then making blueberry pancakes and having uber stimulating discussion over breakfast with one NP moderated and mediated by Tybo then meeting up with MelKel to play in the tide pools at her "cute little beach." I got to ride on the shiny but yet unnamed bike and we found critters of all types. When we couldnt catch any lobsters the 8 year old kids got us some to play with. Those kids were awsome and this is not to say that Tybo is not awsome because he could not catch the gianormous lobster. He put in a damn good effort and he still earned himself a beer because he caught me a fish barehanded. The ride home was something like stimulating because we were in a slight hurry to beat impending death and large coastal thunder storms. We only got a wee bit wet. Then we went to Kitty's and met up with some other just-happened-to-be-in-town types and had a spectacular night. Sunday we made ammeretto french toast and hit up church then they let me watch football ALL day yesterday!!!! By they I mean the networks and the oldschool tv and the boys. This is not to say that the boys watched football with me all day as well, just that they didn't complain. I even get to watch my Steelers play on Monday because they are going to let me come back. Must make sure I am not working that night. That would be tragic. Hmmm....

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Things you dont want to hear while I'm eating

I mean while you are eating.

Normally when your mucus makers kick into overdrive this is a bad thing. You spend your days woah-is-me-ing (woad-id-me id more what id souds like) and nose blowing. However, in my uniqueness, this seems to be my bodies way of telling me that I am quickly approaching better.

See evil guerilla germs infultrated my mucus factories in force in an attempt to change my personal autocratic government into a dictatorship bowing to the whims of the head germ leader. All factories were forced to close and production ceased, crippling the traffic infrastructure. The coup was nearly successful as the powers that be were too stuborn at first to call for help and unwilling to admit that Immune System First-Strike had been overwhelmed and colapsed instantly. But when militia armies of Chicken Soup and OJ made were ineffective and Na-Cl monoxygen-dihydride gargle-bombs were scoffed at, RN peace keeping troops were called in. After a mere 24 hours of constant battle the guerilla forces have been pushed back. A monitoring RN force is in place to ensure that the rebel forces are irradicated and there is no chance of a second attack while militia units are brining relief to the state forces. The mucus peasants are showing their support by redoubling their efforts in mucus production and outside critics are wondering if this was all staged by the government to receive support from other nations. What remains to be seen is how many other nations have been infiltrated by escaping rebels as the nations borders could not be sealed during the initial irradication.

(I worked ~20 hours and attended a recital while contagious...oops)

In other news I am moving away from the cat house and into a princess suite this evening. Whilst there I will be waited on, hand and foot, by 4 strapping young gentlemen....or something like that anyways. Who ever said it was bad to be homeless? -Jn

Saturday, September 02, 2006

I didn't take pictures

I got to play miner today. Sort of. I was helping 105 dig a basement with a ragtag crew of some pretty random people. I like this idea of friends helping friends do things like build decks and basements and whatever. People should do these things and friends should help them. Free sweat, dirt, and well worked muscles with pizza, beer, and pop for lunch. Yes. This is why the Amish can do those cool barns and houses and quilts.

I learned fun things too. Like dirt comes in all colors, textures, and even smells. When you are all shoveling from different places into one big pile its beautiful really. Rocks are the same way even if all the rocks were granite. But regardless of all the myriad cool things about geology all rocks and dirt are heavy. And man is mortal. And my arms dont work anymore from betwixt the shoulderblades and decreasing in functionality down to the finger tips.

This is a good tired. Not like those other tireds I have been this week.


(Tybo can come too)