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.

Categories
blog fun poem/poetry thoughts

POEM | Santa Claus In Training

I am becoming that old man most people like—bearded and giggling.

I am pleased with this direction, even though I likely have no choice.

I seek it. Something in my genetics, maybe. And in the genes of all the men like me.

We’re a jolly kin meant for joyhood.

Job Description: Remind them that real laughter is holy.

What do you want for your holiday/Monday/yesterday? Tell me loud or with a stare. We may not speak it, but we read body language better than most.

Who needs a chimney when you’ve got a round-trip bus ticket?

My sleigh rides the rails. Sometimes it’s pulled by a Greyhound.

Eat your cookies, we’re all diabetic now, I’m sweet enough for the both of us.

None of us are saints. None of us are truly married.

But we’re all born to be this. Joymaking is a universal balance. It’s whispered to us the first time we see the same skill in someone else.

Be merry, it says.

Be merry, indeed.

I was born for this.

Categories
fascinating fun poem/poetry thoughts writing

POEM | Search Party

First, search for god in children.

If it is not there today, then look to all pets before adult humans. A hamster may hold The Creator. Or look to a nervous smoke-detector or a phone book.

Then maybe to a stalk of corn, a generous faucet, orange Play-Doh, or a broken clock—it will be there before it can ever be inside mankind.

If you stumble upon it, and it has a mouth, it will smile at you just before it inserts a paper clip into an electric wall socket.

And it will say to you, before the jolt:

Macandcheeezzz!

Categories
fascinating fun thoughts

Antarctica is Awesome!

I have been fascinated of late with the continental no man’s “land” of Antarctica. It occurred to me that it would technically encompass all Earthly time zones and being that it experiences extreme day-night cycles, it has no real need for daylight savings time being the sun sticks around all summer. This made me ponder Antarctica much further…

TURNS OUT…

The coldest temperature recorded was −89.2 °C (−128.6 °F) at Vostok Station (Russia) on 1983-07-21 (winter)

Warmest temperature recorded was 14.6 °C (59 °F) at Vanda Station (defunct) on 1974-01-05 (summer)

“…the population doing and supporting science or engaged in the management and protection of the Antarctic region varies from approximately 4,400 in summer to 1,100 in winter; in addition, approximately 1,000 personnel, including ship’s crew and scientists doing onboard research, are present in the waters of the treaty region; peak summer (December-February) population – 4,490 total” (Indexmundi.com)

MORE LINKS ON ANTARCTICA

Time In Antarctica

Population

Current weather

Amazing information on Russia’s Vostok Station (I’d snoop around the site for other stations as well.)

Thanks for reading!

Categories
blog memoir poem/poetry thoughts touring/travel writing

For Jack McCarthy

Jack is on stage now. Sitting and pacing himself. So wise and vivacious. He is loved so thoroughly, here in this room. Everyone here will confirm this. Everyone who sent in something to be read here tonight has made an impact; thank you from the Seattle/Boston scenes. Thank you from my heart. Thank you from a man who just wants to be a poet and a writer.

Thank you, Jack.

I love you.

Categories
poem/poetry

POEM | My Immortal Beloved

She is always in pain
I am learning to
never be one for her
Were only my kiss
heroic/n

Categories
images

IMAGE | Sandwich Shop Mural, Oakland, CA

Don’t mind if I do! (Photo taken by me in Oakland, California; June 2011)

Categories
images

IMAGE | Dear Electric Pole, Portland, OR

Portland, Oregon—January 2012.

Categories
blog fascinating memoir

WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?

I have a very foggy, clouded recollection of being born. It was all too bright, scary, cold and confusing. I have attributed those feelings to the act of being born, but I cannot be sure. My first clear memory is of me at six months old, being held by my grandmother’s neighbor. She kept “goo-goo-gaga-ing” me and I kept feeling concerned for her lack of intelligence. I remember feeling too close to her face and untrusting of her.