ship happens

...and upon fleeting ships, who race into ambiguity from uncharted waters only to escape an occupation that might swallow whole a generation's identity.

Getting Lucky

Sometimes, I find an object that other people have rejected. It will be shoved in a corner at a garage sale or gathering dust on a thrift store shelf or sitting by the side of the road, near a heap of rubbish. Something about it will catch my eye, and I will go over and have a good long look at it. Often, I’ll see that the object is broken or ruined in some irredeemable way, so I will sigh in sympathy for it and continue on my way. But every so often, the thing is essentially ok, except for a few dents or some tarnished surfaces, and I will get excited, not only because it’s free or cheap, but because it is truly high quality—it’s something I want and would have paid a lot for if I had the money—it is lovely or interesting or unusual or fine. I think about the person who discarded this object and marvel at her obtuseness and my own good fortune. Then I take the thing home and clean it up and put it in my living room, and I feel a kind of joy that I would never have felt if I had bought it new. Because it will seem, although I know this is irrational, like that thing and I have a fateful connection.

The Murder of a Figure (of Speech)

When you chance upon a metaphor
never let it stand.
Knock it down and straddle it
and slap it with your hand.
Where it lurks, you must be sure
to pursue the loathsome creature
and tackle it with all your strength
in prose, at first, but then at length
take up your pointed instrument,
your meter, and your rhyme,
and pierce and gouge the bloody beast,
hold tight to it without release,
disfigure it and do not cease
to punish it with wrath sublime.
While others capture theme and meaning
and grasp at truth with language leaning,
broach no distractions, no other fight—
the metaphor must die tonight!

pitch(ed) the baby

elizabeth, world, et al.,

let me first preface all future ascertations contained herein by vowing to never EVER again waste my time and emotions on watching grown men try to hit and throw a little white ball for as long as i live, and possibly after.

i fear i may be writing these days for writing's sake and have been for much of the recent and not so recent past. should this be a problem? i'm not for certain but its obvious that my original intent has been lost for the same reasons i would choose to watch sports over spending time with family, metaprogramming, or at the very least cultivating wisdom and art in one form or another.

if i died tonight i would never see my son again. being that i have also chosen not to see him for over three weeks now, you might begin to understand why a ghost is a ghost. that is, REGRET. and i am not sure what to do about any of this. i fear that i am losing myself to any distraction within arm's reach and sacrificing my sensibilites to the dull chaos of survival and imaginations of a future where i am actually observed, understood, and loved. a place where i am a good son and a good father, far from being a baby pitcher vying for attentions like play dough in my grasp before its inevitable exposure. i know i am being dramatic (AGAIN!), and that i have to believe there will be a tomorrow, but still i ask you, what about today?

well, i have a million and one excuses for today and i can tell you every single one of them is rooted in a self conscious attempt to avoid some pain that i have dared not be held accountable for. but, i MUST...for if i can not own my pain then there truly is nothing else for me. i know this, although i can't seem to put into action other than writing here...trying to convince a ghost that the past is not the present and that forgiveness is something real and not just an idea inside a book.

all too sincerely,
brian

non calor sed umor est qui nobis incommodat

dear houston,

people always ask, where are you from? and i don't really know what to say...i've been here since i was five years old so i might as well be from here...but i just don't really want to be...here. is that so immature? i have felt stuck here because i do some niche work in the ogc engineering design field and you are the center of the universe for that kind of thing. i have been bouncing from contract to contract here for as long as i can remember, i barely know anything different other than toiling away in the belly of the beast. can you really blame me for wanting a breath of fresh air?

i am considering a move to southern california because their is some demand for pawns like myself in that area, although i have never even travelled there which sounds silly on the surface but....i don't know...maybe i am silly. so its always in my best interest to have a paying gig a reasonable distance from where i choose to park my jalopy. i do have some semblance of standards. so i got a toll free number a little while back and started sending smoke signals out in that direction...eh it could happen.

i hear the only thing you are really good for is food and who among those who resort to bumming menthol cigareetes can afford to eat? not me. not today that is. i won't complain too much about the music, since kieran hebden just visited, but you know we got really lucky on that one.

so aside from dancing with cats and the resurrection of dead languages what is left for the young and restless? well, maybe not so young anymore, still i am restless. however, seeing that i have no degrees or other tangible skill that might assist in obtaining work beyond slinging eggs and pancakes for the local IHOP anyplace else leaves me somewhat befuddled.

its not that i have any convictions this morning, just thought i might outline an indictment and ask some questions. as it is my thoughts are stale, my coffee has grown cold, and now my cereal soggy.

...and another beautiful monday is upon us.

snap, crackle, p(l)op,
-b

nuttin. huney.

*F5*,
*F5*,
*F5*,
*F5*,
*F5*,
*sigh*.....*F5*. yep.
*yawn*...ok, maybe i'm being a little dramatic. i admit it.

Ryan Patrick Huseman Darrow

ok, here is the dealio, i am going to freekin bed and i dont know when i am getting back up.

first the bad news, i haven't heard shit from bayer or merichem all god damn week, and baseball is gay.

the only good news is i am visiting halliburton next week and i have two other nibbles which i will leave unnamed until i can confirm them as prospects.

my optimisim was flushed with yesternight's dinner to be honest. i'm really starting to wonder about some of the choices i have made recently, and its very unclear how the hell i am going to stay above water over the coming weeks unless i whore myself out somewhere.

and fuck, i need a haircut. AGAIN. maybe i will just shave it (my head) and tattoo a will stay up all night on the internet for food sign on my skull.

I have the most pedestrian fantasies...

Hey there, I wanted to let you know I am jumping on a plane this afternoon to go visit family in Hibbings, Minnesota which would not be my first choice of destinations for a well deserved vacation but I must see my nephews and more importantly liberate my beloved rat terrier. Poor Scooter was dogknapped while in the foster care of my evil older sister who determined without fair trial that he would be happier in my brother's home and that I had lost custody when I could not commit to a date when I would be able to take him back. Well, I am going to show them.

So with that I bid you a productive week and many thanks for the help in landing the new contract. If there is any other information or digressions that require my attention please let me know!

Thanks,
Brian Blancett

I'm afraid of snakes.

I want this for X-mas. If you would have been there this summer you would totally understand. TOTALLY. You know I don't go off unless its total. I'll even let you watch it with me. Goshers, I can't wait. And, YES, you should buy stuff for everyone you know and their maid when its Jesus's birthday. God damn it. Duh. Jesus's birthday is like everyone's (second) birthday. Didn't you ever for go to church for Christ's sake? Think of it however you want, just don't disappoint me this time. Bitches.

Thanks,
bb


...but seriously, um. I need a shower and some methamphetamine. So, I guess the shower will have to do. It's 4am and I am still not done. Things went pretty good at Bayer today, er yesterday. No jinxes for that I don't think. They aren't done with me though, I still have one more hoop to jump through. And I have another prospect on the hook that I scheduled for today for some silly reason when I knew I was going to be up all damn night moving the last of mom's crap and ALL of my brother's. That fucker. You seriously owe me for this you illiterate bastard!!! And I do not like being hissed at. Natalie Dee understands this. I guess I am trying to spread some optimism despite my being ornery.

Oh well, it was worth a shot.