the words i typed today monday 5-11-2020

The lost typewriter is found
on our way home from picking up our groceries and food for lunch on saturday 5-9-20

we were on our road when my wife happened
to look over at an abandoned house
and saw a huge box sitting
by the door in their entrance
she thought for sure what was my typewriter
we went home because i was nervous
about just driving on someone else’s property
and snooping around so
i had to call the police to make sure it
was ok
and when the officer called back
she was almost dumbfounded
and said well if there is no one
living there go ahead and look at it
and i was like but i wanted to make sure
this was ok and she was like
“duh” without saying the word duh
then we drove back and
checked and it had my name and the senders
we took it and i let it sit in my room
until monday to open it up
now come today, monday
i open it up
what a mess!
it’s the worst best packing
i’ve ever seen
loose foam peanuts
locked together
with spray foam
that sticks to the saran wrap
on the outside of the typewriter
as well as the cardboard
of the box
everything has glued itself
together and i’m
not sure how to get
everything undone
then in the mean time
when i thought all was
lost and i’d never see
my typewriter again
before i found it
i bid on another typewriter
and won that
so we will see what is the best
typewriter when the other
comes in.
i need to be better with
my money and save it
instead of buying typewriters.
so i’m done
between the two
i should have a nice
collection for now
until i can add
an Olympia SM3
and a Hermes Baby/Rocket
and perhaps a
Hermes 2000
then we’ll call it a day

by the way the typewriter
was dropped off at
3828
my address is
3838
i’m convinced the fedex
driver thought there
was a mistake made
and corrected it himself
this is a good lesson
in not overthinking and
assuming a mistake
was made
he never drove
to our house
it wouldn’t have
mattered as we
just put in a new
mailbox and it
didn’t have numbers
now it has our numbers
and our last name

just took my
vitamins
and coffee and
chocolate
from 1007-1025 hrs

i can hardly wait for lunch
because i get our (my wife’s and I)
mexican lunch leftovers
from mothers day
although what i really
want is my hotdog
with chili on it
that is what i want.

after wrangling my Royal
typewriter out of it’s
coffin of packing:



what i typed saturday

on 5-9-2020

Today is my wife’s and I
wedding anniversary
She is the love of my life
I can’t believe she loves me and
married me years ago
It’s been 15 years of
wonder!


i bought a royal typewriter
off of ebay
it was supposed to be delivered
friday may 8, 2020
the tracking number
said it was
but when i opened my front door
there was nothing there
i finally got through to fedex
saturday morning 5/9/20
and now it’s in their system
the driver will be contacted
and hopefully i’ll get the machine
at some point.
in the meantime i found
a typewriter i really want.

it’s hard to write
something worthwhile reading
when all your focus
is on trying to find out
what happened to my
typewriter and where it went
and will i get my money back

or

it’s hard to write
when my mind is
typewriter focused
on where it went
and will i get my money back?

(i like the latter better
trim trim trim the
words always better.)


I can’t get rid of my weird bird story
i’m contemplating that it is more
alien type than extinct
i like this better

maybe this alien bird
maybe isn’t alien
maybe it’s a machine
that is spying on people

or maybe
it’s 100% pure alien
no i’m not sure i like that either
because it needs to be made
in a lab

so it needs to be some
type of animal
maybe a hint of weird science
i like that

i mean think about it:
scientists create something
that could light up (using lightning bug dna)
maybe they could reconstruct dna
that could make it breath fire

think about a cockroach mixed in with some dinosaur
wouldn’t you end up with a form of a xenomorph.

what i wrote yesterday

(this was written on 5-8-20 Friday, and I forgot to post it, shame on me.)

it’s 0940 hrs and i thought i would better get to writing something.

i know my royal typewriter is coming today but i don’t know what time
so instead of wait all day and miss out on an opportunity of writing
on my new typewriter i better just open another word document and
start typing and be done with it
instead of waiting
for the new old hopefully working typewriter to arrive
and then miss a writing opportunity completely
I love my Hermes 1943 font.
if I can’t have a real hermes typewriter
because they ware quite pricy right now
i figure i can at least use the font
and that will scratch the itch
oh so lightly
not really because it’s to quiet
and not noisy enough

i wanted to do some
free writing today
but even that seems
impossible
i need to read more
but then when i read
i find myself wanting
to write more
and so the forces begin to mesh
with each other and
as long as i do both today
ill come out ok
and be a winner no
matter what.

if you’ll excuse me
back to reading
i’m reading a lot of
kindle samples
i just deleted
permantley
14000 things to be happy about
or something like that
it was ok but
nothing over the top
i think there are
better books to be read.
back at it again

i ordered three
new to me
poetry books
from amazon
right now
@ 1024 hrs.
I can hardly
wait until
they arrive
but i have plenty
to read
in the meantime

I’m tired this morning
stayed up till
0100 hrs
this friday morning
i should have gone
to bed sooner
wrapped up
reading on
my kindle

i get a text
message from
fedex
that my typewriter
has been delivered
it has been
left at the front
door
but when i opened
my door
there was no
typewriter
it had dissapeared
i walked over to the edge
of my property
to check my neighbors
front door
there was no large
box sitting there
i went back inside
my house
i’ve been trying
to call fedex
and i’m waiting
for a long time
to speak to a human
being at fedex
it seems that is
a rare event
indeed
we are so far advanced
in our technology
but we have a hard
time connecting
two humans on the phone
as a machines tries
to match us up
funny how a machine
has to join two
humans together
on a phone
that in the 80’s
was nothing to
even sneeze or
think about
you could pick up
a phone and make
a call to another
human and they
would most likely
answer
very simple
now not so much

i ate my hot dog
with ketchup on it
for lunch
this now
@1246 hrs

i’m waiting on my
dad
to call me
and tell me
he won’t come
over for his
two chess games
with me
he has been backing off
a lot lately
so i don’t think
he wants to play
or learn chess
i should look
into playing
someone on
chess.com
if i want to

but what i really
want to do
is buy a $120
backgammon
tournament
game of
21 huge inches
instead of
anything smaller
for less money

money honey ronny

nothing is coming to me
today because i think
it’s friday
my wife got paid
and i’m in the party
mood
not the writing
poetry mode
but i have got to do what i
need to do regardless
what day it is

i need to read more
but i really want
to write more
like i am now
but write
with more meaning

bat that ate the rat
couldn’t find the mat
to lie down on and rest his weary lat
because we all know how
important it is for a bat
to rest his lat
tat mat kat, kit kat bar

i’ve become
extremely tired

i remember back
when i went bowling
on a league no less
but then they let
everyone get on a
league that wants to be
i rolled two gutter balls
in a row
only me
no one else on any
league
ever rolled a
gutter ball
that is how
much a looser
i am

enough of this free writing
garbage
i will read
now @ 1318 hrs

it’s now 1410 hrs
i will need to
read more
out of my real
paper books
and save
the kindle
words for
tonight when
i’m in bed
and my wife
is sound asleep
for it is daylight
now
and that means
reading words
light reflecting
off of ‘dead-trees’
paper

my dad just called
and he said
he is running late
he won’t make it
at 2:30 pm
but 2:45 pm
i was shocked
he is actually
coming to
play chess
with me?

i need to write poem about

  • storms rain snow blizzards
  • maybe the 3′ blizzard from westcliffe colorado
  • lack of sleep
  • lack of exercise
  • jumping rope
  • four square in pasadena california in 6th grade.

all of sudden these don’t even look that interesting
i better just concentrate and
get set up for the chess game
much better than trying to
make these crappy words work.

my worksheet 5-7-20

im trying to write lists
my problem is whenever i attempt this
its easier to write it out
like a poem
that isnt a poem
and most list ideas
never connect
directly with me

make a plan to decrease the clutter what can i sell or give away
this isnt difficult to do
all my jewelry tools
my little table
my wheeled cart
i want it to all go away
i don’t need the space
i want the space
i want to see lots of empty space
in my writing room
for some reason
i think it will make me a better
writer.
i want the chair from the van
i think it would nice to sit on in my writing room

now i want to write a poem about
my writing room
how many lives it lived before
i now sit in here and write
nothing old but new
retaining the old rug
stained in paint hues
we are to focused on saving our money
then to spend it
to buy a new carpet
i like seeing where ive been before
in my past
but moving forward.

-my writing desk

shy of 28 inches deep.
60 inches long.
4 legs at each corner.
minimalistic open design.
29 inches high.
in the corner of my writing room.
under:
a modem/wi-fi router.
1 40 inch smart tv as a monitor
dangles 4 post-it notes on the bottom edge
acting like a hanger.
1 back scratcher.
1 box of tissues.
1 box of G-2 pilot bold blue refills.
1 small plastic bottle of eyeglass cleaner.
1 small black stapler.
1 crossed-hatched metal pen and pencil holder.
1 glacier-point, red water bottle.
1 thirstystone slice-of-a-slab water sucking coaster.
the remote and my dish hopper.
3 to-do lists
printed on vertically-folded-in-half-paper.
variable strengths of dark chocolate opened
in hanging tinfoil wrangled wrappers.
1 opened round tin of book darts darting.
1 4 inch square lint-free cloth cleaner.
1 orange glo highlighter.
2 pilot g-2 bold blue pens extended.
1 normal sized sharpie marker.
a photographers lens brush and blower.
clear ‘scotch’ tape in its own dispenser.
my cell phone wrapped up in the ottobox defender.
1 5″ x 7″ notebook opened.
1 black fake 3″ x 3-1/2″ field-notes lay ruffled.
more pale yellow post-it notes
stuck on top like sticky suckers.
on the right side corner
another water wicking stone coaster.
2 piles of 8 books of poetry by other authors.
some scrap paper.
at the back right edge lie
2 recipes that i plan to make sometime.
1 computer keyboard lies
slanted on top of it all
besides my thin rubberized pad
where a mouse on top, nervously nibbles.

my keyboard shelf
    slips out from below 
    and there sits
    1 royal typewriter 
    where I can ignore screen glow.

and this
is where i have the daily privilege
of being a word blacksmith
hammering miniature letters into paper

(personal notes on the poem above.
now that i have written something like this
i have no desire to write a short story.
i know now where i have landed.)


STORY IDEA:
there is this old strange creepy wierd guy in the neighborhood who is a tinkerer and inventer/wierd scientist, etc some younger kids in the neighborhood think hes from the future. the kids break or sneak into to his workshop behind his house – no they discover a tunnel in the bushes/trees by this guys old house and it leads to his secret lab/work shop and the find this old machine there that have several seats in it. they all hope in and turn it on but nothing happens. they see this strange like bird device with two seats in it and they think its a lame attempt at making a plane but when they get in and turn it on, nothing happens until that activate the lever that flaps the wings and they barley move it and they begin to rise off the ground. they don’t know it but they just discovered an anti-gravity machine. the wings are made of material that reflect the forces of gravity. this is a great idea because i get to do the dungeon crawl/tunnell thing along with the anti-gravity machine thing.
what goes wrong?
they almost get found out
they crash./ruin the machine
or maybe nothing: they just have a fun time just flying around one night under a bright full moon.


opposite of watered down; as in:
my coffee was watered down
opposite is not strong coffee but:
my coffee was milked down

so the opposite of a watered down coffee
is a milked down coffee

i like my coffee weak with milk
i like the sound of that line
maybe i need to work on a poem about coffee.

maybe making it more poetic:
i like my coffee weak with cow juice
that’s just stupid
remember above all is write it clean, clear and simple


i want a typewriter

I had six or maybe seven or eight of them at one time. When I used to collect them. Slowly I got rid of them, something today i regret.

I was fine with my word processor except it’s to easy to fix and patch broken sentences and wrecked words. I want a typewriter so I get only one shot at writing and that’s it. What you type is what you get unless you re-type everything over again.

i have been workin’…

i have been cooking up a sci-fi or fantasy or maybe one of each, story.
Here are the WIP’s of poems I’m working on, very rough and they all need to be expanded and trimmed along with better words chosen.

-old tractor
old tall frail skinny farmer
riding a tall rusty red tractor
thin hard tires
going along
as if asthmatic
tractor coughing up black lung
poor black woman
soaked of silent remorse
sweat soaked
clothes across
the clothes board grinding out all
hot sunned
works of days past


-ice cream
white vanilla
sweet n creamy
silky sweet
creamy & cold
as shivering skin
and loud as
chattering teeth


I love the sound of paper
crackling
i think there should be an
instrument made of this


-haircut
feeling the cool
breeze across
a freshly mowed
lawn


-Boyd & Wurthman


-leaky roof
drips in my bucket
natures metronome
as i sit
and tap out a rythym
on the dinning room table.

my bad work i did on monday

Monday, an hour before noon
and this is when I begin?
I know I need to read
but I also need to write
writing is the most important
but I want to write about
happy things
balloons
sweets
donuts
ice cream
I want to write
a
list
poem
or maybe a black out poem
I need newspapers
with a good Tombow marker
and go to town
and start redacting
all the good stuff
that should be left in
lots of money
it can’t buy happiness
it sure can rent a lot of it
is it impossible to write
something pretty?
why do we end up
writing about the
miserable
the down trodden
we are supposed to write
something bad
do some work that is
horrible
and sad
and down and depressed
but i don’t want to
i want to write what is
hopeful
and
happy
and full of grace
and love
and yet it all
escapes me
I’m supposed to write something
horrible, something bad
do bad art
that sounds liberating
i like the concept
of bad
art
bad work
it feels like it’s sitting
next to me
starring over my shoulder
bad art
it’s to easy
no not easy enough
just words
that aren’t
poetry
not that it matters
just write the stuff
and leave it behind
and then forget it
this is my goal today
to do what Sol Lewitt
wrote in his letter to
Eva Hesse
i will sum it
abreviate it for you
do bad art
so bad that all
that is left
is nothing but
good
cleanse yourself
of all the bad crap
and just write
i love writing like this
uncaged
roaming like a wild tiger
munching the daises
i feel like i have to
share everything with
my dad and that i
shouldn’t have to
but he wants to know
what i was reading
he wants to read the
letter
but i know he won’t like it
no matter what
then he’ll turn around and
judge me
i told you so
i said
but by then it won’t matter
no matter how hard i try
to justify it for myself
it’s easier just to keep
it all to

my
self

and keep going
instead of trying to
block out
all of the negative words
of judgement
and yes i know we all
can have our opinion
and i can ignore
and take action
about it
about the ignoring
and the snoring
of everyone sleeping
through this
not that any of this matters

i like everything in verse
everything short
to the point
like i always have
and i’m always so
ti red
it’s no wonder i can’t write
well
so bad writing i shall
do
and do it well then
it will stop being
bad art and be
something worthwhile reading
something great
everyone can write bad
if they put enough of effort
into it
even i can and it doesn’t
matter one way or the other
but deep down i wish it
would matter

dad is here now
to check his email
and use my internet
talking about finding
another Starbucks
at the university
he thinks it’s open
to the public
but we could never
find it
because it’s inside
the buildings and
you can’t get inside
we never could
we: my wife and I
but that’s just us
and I’ll see if it’s only
because we don’t
have the credentials
about what is going on around us
and maybe i need to get this
out of my system
i will see if i can get to
any good stuff down the road
in another path
i think dad will be in
for a rude awakening
i think it’s only for the students
but we will see if it is
don’t really care
one way or the other
right now.
it’s good I ate what I
did, i think he is trying
to get some free lunch
and i’ll have to prop
my head up
and pretend i’m writing
again. making up works
no matter how hard i have
to fake this i have to get t
through this.


loud clickity typewriter sound
for my computer keyboard
like a miniature woodpecker
plastic clicks echo the work
louder the clicks
larger the words
hearing more letters
project from the screen


i find i get ideas for
my poems by reading
other poems by
charles bukowski
skipping most of his
potty mouthed foul words
in search of better ones
lost in the crossword
in my keyboard.
maybe i do like my
quiet
keyboard
it is writing in stealth mode
instead of something loud
and obnoxious in the 1980’s
where everyone heard
your word count out loud

quiet keyboard
allows me to be
the spy
i never was
my childhood dream
of being the spy i never was
quietly typing
the words
that will expose
everyone i mention
the crooks who
almost got away


-a poem about spring

yellow limy glowing tree leaves
baby leaves

fresh cool air
low humidity

sounds of birds chirping
cardinals (red wings dot my lawn)

budding flowers; not yet open
smell of sugar

soft quiet rain

*
-spring

low humidity air
filtered by the misty rain
glowing green
baby leaves sprouting
flower buds smell
of sweet sugar cane

red cardinals chirping
bouncing on a branch near by

i have this blog so i might as well use it

i wanted to ignore this
to move on and not use this
blog of mine
but then i realized
i have this so i might as well
use it
if for nothing else
than to write words in it
at least show up and
pretend
***
i was motivated to really get
back to writing
words
again
after i read the letter
Sol Lewitt wrote to
Eva Hesse
way back then
about doing bad art
and not worrying about anything else
but doing bad art
not impressing anyone
not even yourself
but to make something bad
enjoy it because it will
bre ak
up your inability to create
when you have no care in the world
about what you make
you must come to grips
that it won’t matter either way
to press on to
continue
to make bad words
that do not fit
no matter how hard you try
to put the tractor into the
pickle jar
don’t you know silly
you first have to eat all the
pickles
then the jar will be void
of all things pickles
except the smell
of tractor grease and dill
oh the thrill
of knowing what you did
to get the tractor mixed in
with the dill
un till
the cows come home
and that’s when you realize
the tractor is in the pickle jar

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