Hookers or Cake

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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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          • November 16, 2011 12:25 am
            While I shall always be amazed by the hilarious speed of the sun I am afeared to admit that I no longer understand time I keep showing up in the middle of epic historic battlesand celebratory mall openingswith scuffed up dress shoesscuffs that speak to the delicate mysterya mystery so nuanced by its own seductive notionthat I cannot act upon this lurid emotion of my love for thee Gawdammit woman! What I’m trying to say is that because of feelings of masculine inadequacy I shall spend the rest of my nights out in the driveway, crying some form of darkness. IE. Drinking beer and listening to AC/DC

            While I shall always be amazed by the hilarious speed of the sun

            I am afeared to admit that I no longer understand time

            I keep showing up in the middle of epic historic battles
            and celebratory mall openings
            with scuffed up dress shoes

            scuffs that speak to the delicate mystery
            a mystery so nuanced by its own seductive notion
            that I cannot act upon this lurid emotion

            of my love for thee

            Gawdammit woman! What I’m trying to say is that because of feelings of masculine inadequacy I shall spend the rest of my nights out in the driveway, crying some form of darkness.

            IE. Drinking beer and listening to AC/DC


            93 notes Filed under:  shitty epic poetry, poetry, Rubens, bestofHoC,.
          by Peter Vidani. For .
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