Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.

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      • ------------------------------------- How this blog got its name

      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

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          • April 28, 2012 10:51 pm
            Whenever I feel a twinge of guilt for having a second diet root beer. I try to remember to breathe and repeat my mantra “We are vibrating piles of star dust wired like a mother fucking toaster.”

            Whenever I feel a twinge of guilt

            for having a second diet root beer.

            I try to remember to breathe and repeat

            my mantra

            “We are vibrating piles

            of star dust

            wired like a

            mother fucking toaster.”

            125 notes Filed under:  poetry,.
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          by Peter Vidani. For .
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