Categories
blog memoir thoughts touring/travel

Leaving the Pacific Rainwest For Sun José, Droughtifornia

I am packing up all of my things here in Bellingham, Washington. I have a number of friends coming through the next few days for coffee and chat. In the past I’ve given away nearly everything I own in order to move lightly and lithely. This time I have boxes for everything. I’m bringing back the few things I’ve held onto over the last ten years. I have healed a lot, but I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing here. The bandage thought it was scarf.

I am moving into a house with an old friend in my old neighborhood—downtown San José, 95112. It’s where I lived when I couldn’t win a poetry slam to save my life. My old mercado where I’d go for instant coffee, nopales, fresh made corn chips and salsa, along with the best deli downtown, imho. I am coming home to uncle, to work, to live, to write, and to fall in love with Silicon Valley all over again. I will be a block away from my favorite taqueria and in the middle of my family and culture.

I’m about to geek it up in nerdville.

Categories
poem/poetry writing

POEM | The Push

I saw a river. It made me think of you.
There was a boulder in the middle of it.
I am so sorry I stood in your way.

Categories
poem/poetry

POEM: “At the Touch of You” by Witter Bynner, 1917

At the touch of you,

As if you were an archer with your swift hand at the bow,

The arrows of delight shot through my body.

You were spring,

And I the edge of a cliff,

And a shining waterfall rushed over me.

Witter Bynner, “At the Touch of You” was published in Witter Bynner’s collection Grenstone Poems; a sequence (Frederick A. Stokes, 1917).

This poem is in the public domain.

From Poets.org

Categories
fun images thoughts

The True Santa Clause

I am leaving my stocking up all year in case Santa comes by unexpected. He’s like a vampire; dude can’t enter a home unless he’s got treats.

Categories
fun thoughts

Valentine

ME: Hey.
me: Yeah?
ME: I was wondering…
me: …
ME: Would you be my Valentine?
ME: …
me: …
ME: …
me: Duh.

Categories
fun thoughts

Thoughts on the Past

Sometimes I see dates from the past and I think,

“Oh, 1991, you cute, weird little bastard.”

“What did you do!? 1939!? Why!?

"It’s gonna get worse before it gets better, 1967.”

“Hey, 2008! Good effort!”

“Slow down, 2033!”

“Go fuck yourself, 1347.”

Categories
thoughts

A Thought on Mediocrity

When I use the word mediocre, I mean it as an insult. I don’t use it often. I hope my infrequent use will increase it’s power.

Some days I feel mediocre and it really pisses me off.

Categories
art blog fascinating fun images thoughts

beard + art = beart

You know it’s time for a trim when while you are reading the internets, you look down at your bowl of soup to see your beard sitting in it. I realize now that the seemingly “painted on soup” shirt stains I’ve been getting have been done by the artist that is my chin with its little beardly brushes. I should paint little cards with my beard and sell them online.

I can picture them in a gallery now…

Though, I should probably switch to watercolors.

Categories
art thoughts

Just heard this…

Interviewer on news show to guest: The photos are really beautiful and artistic when you look at them.
My brain: Wha!? How else would you become aware of their beauty!?

Categories
poem/poetry

POEM | Soul Food: A Duel With Death At Lunchtime

Soul Food: A Duel With Death At Lunchtime

A silly poem by Mike McGee

October 24, 2000


So last week the Angel of Death comes knocking at my door

totally interrupting Perfect Strangers

And I’m like, Dude, you are so early! There is so much more I wanted to do with my life!

“You’ve had plenty of time for that!”

You know, you sound a bit like Sean Connery.

“No, he sounds a bit like me.”

Whatever, dude. There’s gotta be some sort of loop-hole. What if we competed for my soul? Like some sort of contest.

“I do love a good challenge. If we can both agree on one, then the winner may keep your soul.”

At this point I remembered I had a pot of ramen noodles waiting for me on the stove. The Angel of Death was lured into my kitchen by the sweet aromatic joy of powdered shrimp flavoring. I could see that Death was hungry, so I made a second pack of noodles. We sat and ate in silence, but my hunger just wouldn’t subside. So while I raided the fridge, I noticed Death scoping my Rice Krispy Treats.

“Still hungry, dude?”

“We’ll take one for the road.” he said.

And we both put a Rice Krispy treat in our pockets.

“You know, I could probably eat half of all your food.”

“So could I, dude… so could I.”

And it hit us both at the same time. We pulled out every bit of food in my house and divided it all into equal halves. We had one rule: First person to finish eating their half of food keeps my soul.

We sat down on the kitchen floor surrounded by an odd buffet. The world’s greatest food challenge began.

But this was no ordinary match.

I took an early lead as Death fumbled opening a can of refried beans. I plowed through a dozen eggs and half a gallon of milk. I strategically swallowed spoonful after spoonful of leftover lasagna without chewing. Death caught up to me with a tub of butter and half a soggy pumpkin pie. I hustled my way through cans of corn, green beans, kidney beans, chili, chicken soup, fruit cocktail, and a few cans of peas, but I was stopped dead in my tracks by a mystery can. It’s label missing and nowhere to be found. Damn, dog food! No time to think, I had to eat it.

Death was now ahead of me by two-cans of beer, a frozen steak and what we think may have been tamales. I burped to make room and continued on in the feast for my soul. I ate broccoli, cauliflower, cucumbers, oranges, bananas, a container of baking powder, two cups of salt & pepper, a jug of Pepto-Bismol and a can of whipped cream. We reached our last item of food. One. Raw. Potato. Each.

We slowly gnawed our way through the raw potatoes, swallowing our last bites at the exact same time. It appeared as though we had a draw. Then Death looked to me with a sly grin and handed me a Tupperware bowl with my half of uneaten Jello. I grabbed a straw and sucked it down, saying:

There’s always room for Jello, bitch!

But Death just smiled and said, “I believe I finished my half before you. Your soul is mine.”

But I just outsmiled him and said

What’s that in your pocket, hooker?

His face sunk as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the last Rice Krispy Treat.

He looked to me with fear as I handed him my wrapper, and swallowed a mouthful of crispy, marshmallow goodness.

I believe I win, fucker.

With that, the Angel of Death bowed and vanished.

I sat down to an episode of Full House

and ordered a pizza…

cuz there’s never

anything to eat

at my house.