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Showing posts from 2011

Battlestar Galactica, Christmas Car, and Saturday Song Salute

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Not very long ago I finished watching Battlestar Galactica (the 2004 series, not the original 1978). The purpose of this blog entry is not to adorn this masterful series with gratuitous verbage, but to merely inform you of it's exquisite existence and to share the following quote I enjoyed from the final season: "Have you ever seen a star go supernova? No? Well, I have. I saw a star explode and send out the building blocks of the Universe. Other stars, other planets and eventually other life. A supernova! Creation itself! I was there. I wanted to see it and be part of the moment. And you know how I perceived one of the most glorious events in the universe? With these ridiculous gelatinous orbs in my skull. With eyes designed to perceive only a tiny fraction of the EM spectrum. With ears designed only to hear vibrations in the air. I don't want to be human. I want to see gamma rays! I want to hear X-rays! I want to smell dark matter! Do you see the absurdity of w

Swish (short story)

      "What happens to love when it disguises itself as a foggy window?" Edgar asked as he squatted near the side of the pool table to gain a better view of his balls. He had a difficult shot on the 11 which would leave him nicely lined up against the far rail for a great follow-up shot, but the 15 was just sitting there, perfectly aligned with the corner, begging to be kissed in. "Inquiring eyes want to see what's on the other side, then a hand moves in to wipe away the window sweat," he lined up on the 11, took his shot, and missed before continuing, "and with a quick swipe, love becomes transparent, obvious, stares you right in the face again."        Edgar stepped away from the table and placed his cue stick in the nook where the wall met the back of his chair. He picked up his beer, took a long sip, and turned to look out across the bar just in time to see a girl with pink hair standing on a bar stool. Several people were gathered around in excit

The Incubus Woodstock

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Halloween came and went, and this is what I looked like this year: Allow me to explain a few things about this costume and answer questions that I'm sure you have. The first, and most obvious question, what the heck am I? Good question, and to answer it I will tell you how I came up with this creation. I do the same thing every year: I go to all the local thrift stores and explore every nook and cranny for odd assortments of interesting clothes and accessories. As the day progresses and I accumulate material, a vision formulates in my head as to what my costume will look like. This outfit came together rather quickly. It only took two thrift stores and about 3 hours to put this thing together. Fantastic! Now, what am I? Of all the people in my life I have only one friend who, instead of asking me what I am, instantly decided to name me. She called me The Incubus Woodstock . And I love it! Thanks, Brit, I adore your creative mind ;) And for those of you interested in some o

Hello Goodbye (short story)

She was sitting on the thinly carpeted floor, legs crossed and reading a book, when I turned the corner of the literature section and saw her. Her purse lay on its side next to her, contents spilling out. She didn't seem to care, or possibly hadn't yet noticed, me or the purse. She was blocking the poetry section, maybe because she figured nobody ever visited these books, or maybe because she simply did not care. Either way, she was blocking me. I was here for Sexton.      "Your purse threw up," I said. An electronic dictionary/thesaurus had slid out, along with a guitar pick, a beer coaster, a cell phone, and a little plastic monkey.     She turned from her book and glanced over at her purse. She looked up and said, "Thanks, guy." She put the remaining items back into her purse and pushed it between her legs just as her cell phone beeped. She ignored it and continued with her book. She was here for Neruda.      At the indoor coffee cafe on the other side

Occupy Wall Street (List Of Demands)

 Below is a working proposed list of demands by Occupy Wall Street (OWS): Below is a list of proposed "DEMANDS FOR CONGRESS": "The Sovereign People's Movement, represented nationally through the people occupying the various Liberty Square locations across this great country, have laid out and democratically submitted and are currently voting on the list of following Demands to then be distilled into one Unified Common demand of the people." "Participate in Democracy and Have Your Voice Heard"     LIST OF PROPOSED "DEMANDS FOR CONGRESS"CONGRESS PASS HR 1489 ("RETURN TO PRUDENT BANKING ACT" http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bill.xpd?bill=h112-1489 ). THIS REINSTATES MANY PROVISIONS OF THE GLASS-STEAGALL ACT. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glass–Steagall_Act --- Wiki entry summary: The repeal of provisions of the Glass–Steagall Act of 1933 by the Gramm–Leach–Bliley Act in 1999 effectively removed the separation that previously exis

The Saturday Song Salute

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I'm starting up a new series for my blog called The Saturday Song Salute. Every Saturday (duh) I will pick a song that I feel is truly remarkable and should be heard by all. My choices will span across all genres and there will be no rhyme or reason to them. I will include a Youtube video (or some other method of listening) along with lyrics to accompany each song. Okay, enough with the opening statements, allow me to introduce my very first pick: Today I salute Jackson Browne for his song "For Everyman", a song inspired by the friendship with David Crosby, a sailing expedition through the South Pacific, and an overall longing to escape from reality and the creation of a better life. I could set this song on repeat and listen to it all day long: (lyrics) Everybody I talk to is ready to leave With the light of the morning They've seen the end coming down long enough to believe That they've heard their last warning Standing alone Each has his own ticket in

Bend

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bend poem by Mick Tomlinson we will recognize that steep mountain pass as a barrier to our love, and we'll tremble, and the distance between us will resemble oceans of bravery conquered only by ships and the heavens above and love will listen from far away as the roots of summer dig into the earth and the stars form bouquets in the sky, and your beautiful silence will sing out across the desert of middle Oregon where we will meet often, naked beneath the sunlight. shadows will fall away, childhood will return as we leap into a leaf-piled romance, covered with laughter and love, consumed by heartfelt celebration.

Playgrounds

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I have been distracted. Actually I'm being distracted on several fronts, but each one feels like a jump rope session on a Saturday afternoon. "Blue bells, cockle shells, easy ivy over". A group of young kids have gathered along the brick ledge of the southwestern side of the school yard again. Their lives are simple and carefree, their voices still full of that childish charm that goes missing as we get older. Times are hard everywhere else, but here on this playground time represents something so much better. I want to be part of it. I want to feel every rope skip, every kick of gravel from each sneaker as it leaves the ground. To these kids, a home doesn't represent a credit card yet. To these kids, the playground represents a lifetime of learning, and the rope is their foray into life. A perfectly timed entry is all that's needed... tap, tap, tap, tap... matching rope smacks to heartbeats before leaping in. "I like coffee, I like tea, I like the boys and

Ring Of Fire

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Hello readers, it's been awhile. I find myself saying that each time I sit down to write a new entry, and my lack of dedication to this site is beginning to baffle me. I used to come here with wild ambition, with words begging to be released, with the sleeves of my shirt rolled up, elbows shining with exposure. But now it feels like a chore and I don't know why. My poetical crescendo has reverted back to a plateau, so I can't use that excuse anymore. Sure, I'm still writing poems, but not nearly at the fireball pace as a few weeks ago. An excuse I can use, however, is the fact that I have taken up learning to play guitar. It's something I've always had in the back of my mind, bet the thought never really entered my heart until a few weeks ago after a conversation with my best friend in Texas. She is a remarkable writer and musician whom I often look to for inspiration, and I give full credit to her for plucking the idea from my mind and allowing it to

Clangor

it is a chore now, where did my spirit go? relatives call me out to the harvest covered in the dust of day. factory smoke chokes the life from the sky like a monthly meeting. death staggers in and sits next to me, closely watching. I pretend not to notice the TV tuned to FOX. I did not choose it, it chose me. the struggle of a poet trying to find his words inside the belly of a fish swollen by a tiny hook- oh these great misfortunes and terrible pains that disease us daily. through the punishment of space we find ourselves cramped and illogical, immediate beings always wanting more more more, but lacking a place to put it all. where did my spirit go? it is a chore now, reaching out to your wild mind. I feel ill and useless, trapped in a tin like sideways fish, an orgy of assassins resting before another fucking kill. taste me, lover, take my words and shape them into genital dreams. I'm still in love with a face in pain and a head bursting against a doo

Life Update

I know my blog posts have dwindled lately, even after I said I would pick up the pace and start writing more short stories. You see the thing is, I've been hammering out poems, one after another, over at my poetry website, and while I'm in that groove I don't dare disrupt it. I've posted only a few of them here, but trust me, there are many. My inspiration has been a mixture of beautiful friendship, relationship woes, alcohol, and a few of my favorite poets (Bukowski, Plath, and Neruda). Together, these ingredients have elevated my mind to a point that it has never been, and I'd like to keep it there for as long as I can. That being said, I thought I'd stop in and offer a quick hello and briefly describe a few new things in my life. I suppose the first change to be discussed is the fact that I am single again, go figure. I made a half-hearted promise that I wouldn't talk about this too much out of respect for her, so I won't go into detail. But let'

Under The Serpent Sun

passing by Deaf Man's Drift, bowled delights of heaven shine down illuminating soft treasures and links within the shoreline. the cloud empties without reason, dumping raindrops the size of yesterday on everything it meets. the earth swallows, water rushes up to greet me. now, today is just like yesterday, a drenched insomniac's dream that I am walking through, like a devil trying to escape a reputation. night climbs up to the edge of town puts its elbows down, watching. I remember this now, from a nightmare I had when I was sixteen feet tall- the hidden springs inside the machine, squeak squeak squeaking.. the rooftop caving in, again & again.. a cavalry of Cavemen on horseback dragging the bodies of Europeans behind them in a slow death trot.. mother calling me away from the cliff edge as I dangle one foot, then the other. the sweetness of this is the hunger that follows the serpent sun, a journey through the gut that explodes on the other

Dig It

This will make you fall in love! brought to you by Funny Clips

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these fingers that hold this drink, curved with appetite and misdirection, feel lonely tonight. In each man temper trumps tempo, stars adjust in heaven and mistrust their master. when love escapes the roots of springtime, when hell is passed down like water to a drowning child, all becomes forgiven. I'm betting on the singing fools, memorizing their music- la da da dee da, la daa dee da these notes extend past the blueness of the horizon, fold back in on themselves, muffled by the beauty of the song. I am puzzled by the nature of everything, especially the cool wisps and the long cup goodbyes. I think there's a chance that I love you, whom who whoever. you started up this hill and carried me to the top, and the view is absent without you in the end. poem by Mick Tomlinson

Yay For The Local Guys!

I don't typically do this, actually I've never done this, but I'm about to use my blog page as a platform to applaud a local business here in Salem. Before I moved to West Salem I lived in a two story house in NE Salem where I was the upper-half tenant. This house was ancient, abused, even derelict at one point, and the entryway to my area was a steep, narrow set of disenfranchised stairs. The reason I make mention of these stairs is this: at one point my refrigerator quit working and it had to be replaced (and the poor guy who had to lug that fridge in and out of that house did so with gusto, don't ask me how). Now, if you follow my blog then you already know the (gin & tonic) back story that explains why my refrigerator quit working. I'll not re-explain it, for the sake of those of you who are super cool and follow me all the way into the depths of hellish despair. But if you really want to know, click this: BLOG ENTRY . So when the fridge went down I shopp

Telescope (short story)

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(Seriously, if you are at all offended by perverse sexual depictions, do not read this short story. Or at least skip the section that begins with "Sometimes she would snoop". Now that you've been fairly warned.... enjoy!) It all started when... A girl came into my life during the Second Recession, she brought with her two handfuls of heartache and a heavy dose of love. I insisted on examining everything equally, but instead was met with a telescope that could see only into the future. I told her a great deal could be learned by exploring the past, but she couldn't put that telescope down.      A lifetime is a long time to be unhappy. Between us, we shared sixty years of delusion and the world hasn't stopped spinning even once. Several moments were close encounters, comet fly-bys, but we just blinked as the danger raced by at 20,000 mph.      "I feel like we're doing that," I said.      "What?" she asked. I blinked and stared down at

The Little Things (short story)

I went over to where she had stood and placed my feet in the exact two spots where her feet used to be just moments ago. In an attempt to recreate what life would be like at 4 feet tall, I squatted down in the aisle and peered up at the shelves of food looming before me. I scanned the myriad selection of canned soups and stretched my arms high, but struggled to reach the New England Clam Chowder. Being 4 feet tall would exclude my number one pick from the dinner list, forcing me one shelf lower to where the less desirable soups were kept. Damn, life at this altitude sucks. I pivoted around while still crouched down low, sort of like a goose waddle, and slid my empty grocery basket toward the opposite shelf. After flipping the basket over, I climbed onto it and was able to reach a jar of bread & butter pickle spears. Score! I climbed back down, erected myself once again, and dropped the jar of pickles into the basket. Upon looking up I noticed a mother and child halfway down the a

Interior Eval. 101

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Self evaluation 101: Where am I in this life? What am I doing now, and how has that changed from years prior? In what direction am I headed? What is the state of my mind, body and spirit? Have I learned how to love? Do I want to live and die alone? Am I serious about my writing? Am I an alcoholic? Are corduroy pants ever going to make an official comeback? Okay let's break it down, one question at a time. I am in Salem, Oregon, situated on the west coast amidst the rain and mountains, snuggled close to an ocean I seldom see. I live in a beautiful area of an enormously magnificent landmass, which I seldom explore. This is where I am physically. Where am I mentally? Rewinding. With every new year tacked onto my existence I find myself going backwards in thought. Why was I born? To what purpose? What am I supposed to do with this life of mine that feels so damaged and bruised? Why can't I remember my childhood? I want to, I really do. I want to remember everything: birthdays, sc

Bum (short story)

     The rain continued pouring as he walked down the sidewalk towards the shopping center. His cargo shorts and light, cotton zip-up Etnies hoodie didn't provide much protection from the water, but he didn't care. This was Oregon, after-all. He adjusted his camera around his neck and tucked it deeper into his soaked clothing.      "Shit," he though to himself, wishing he had left it home instead. Earlier, when he left the apartment, it was a perfect evening for a photo walk. And now the temperamental mood of the west coast skies had shifted against his favor.      It was still nice to be walking, regardless of the weather. He just hoped his desire to burn calories didn't destroy his camera in the process. His journey lead him down the length of Senate Street and across Rosemont Ave. Upon reaching the intersection he noticed a Coca-Cola bottle lying on its side on the pavement against the curb. Stopping momentarily, he gazed at the bottle devoid of contents. H

My Final Blog?

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For those of you who aren't in the know, the rapture will occur tomorrow. Did you notice the usage of the verb 'will' in that sentence? Yes it was intentional, and yes I'm quoting someone else. Do I believe God is coming back tomorrow? Um, no, but let me tell you who does... Harold Camping. This guy has spent thousands of dollars posting the May 21st prophecy signs (like you see above) on 2,000 billboards nationwide. He's very serious about this, as are many others I'm sure. I'm guessing he overlooked the part of the Bible (Deuteronomy) that says false prophecy is punishable by death. Oopsie! Well look, I'm not here to debate or discuss the Christian religion or the myriad ways that the fundamentalist wackos taint it, I'm just here to write one more blog entry in case all of this is true. You see, if millions of people disappear tomorrow there's a good chance the internet will be affected, and I don't want my last words to be a silly poem

Fritz

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fritz a pig's bloodshot eye peering through the key hole, "open the fucking door!" he says, as good times give way to madness. on one side, the law on the other side, the raw... sex stuffed into pipes and cats scratching back at nature. what a wonderful wiggly world. poem by Mick Tomlinson

Keep It Together

I'll just let the video speak for itself. Keep it together, bitches!

Oh Baltimore!

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This is a photo blog of my recent family vacation in Baltimore, Maryland. I took a Saturday night flight out of Portland, Oregon and arrived in Wilkesbarre/Scranton Pennsylvania on Sunday morning. Mom & Dad picked me up at the airport and we drove back to Mifflinville, PA where they live. We stayed there for a few days and then headed down to Baltimore for the next few days. Mom, Dad, sister, nephew and me, together in one vehicle. We stayed in an upscale Marriott Hotel right on the harbor, which was nice, but a little too richy-rich for my taste. Day one was spent at the Baltimore Zoo, here are some pics: Meet mom & dad. Meet sister & nephew. Good times! Let's move on. The following day was our trip to the Baltimore Aquarium, which was badass and my personal favorite of our three destinations. Here, have a look: Our last day in Baltimore was spent at the Science Center, but I didn't get very many pictures there since I got food poisoning from dinner