I like to sit on the front porch and watch it rain. It's kind of like going to the movies, for me, only the world in front of me is my screen. The sight of the rain, the sound of the rain; that is the show. I don't have to pay to get in. I don't need popcorn and a coke, though often I do make a nice cup of home brew coffee before I head to the porch. The dogs are my companions. They don't talk during the show. They don't have cell phones waiting to ring. There is some nice thunder happening, now. What a soundtrack it provides.
.......
I took Shitski, uh errr, Jaggar the kitty to the vet, today. Jaggar has added a whole pound to his dinky frame in just two weeks, which had the ladies in the vet's office applauding him like he had just found the solution to our woes in Iraq. Jaggar got two shots, today. What a trooper he was. The vet and the vet tech tried to distract him with food, so that when he grows up, he will not associate shots with pain caused by the vet and try to claw aforementioned vet in the face in lieu of shots. Jaggar won't eat wet cat food, though, so he got his shots straight up. Funny thing is, about this kitten, though, he will eat Morisson's wet dog food.
.......
This lady who works at the vet's office, told me this story of how she has three litter boxes for her three cats, and how one of the cats will use the other two cats' boxes, but not his own. And he won't let either of the other two cats use his box, either. His box has to stay clean!
This lady is the one who cared for Jaggar for the first six weeks of his kitty life. She related to me that Jaggar was found near a Mc Donald's. His mother was out in the road. She had been run over by a car, and was dead. Jaggar had sat in one spot for so long, that they were scared that his little chest might never recover from it.
I'm happy to report that little Jaggar, now ten weeks old, is at my feet playing a weird game of hide and seek with the power cord to my computer. Jaggar is healthy, happy, frisky and fun.
Yeaaaaah.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Somewhere, there is a lot going on,but not where I sit. I thought this as I drove almost all by myself down a near country road coming home from the grocery store and it is still true as I sit here at this table and type, surrounded by two dogs, and two cats who seem to think that it is time, once again, for a snack; these animals have not figured out that it is I who decides when it is time for a snack, and not them.
June 2, 2007
The finches don't faze him, but a fluttering female cardinal makes a large grey squirrel run up a tree, leaving behind him a large pile of bird seed that he has knocked out of the bird feeder and onto the ground. The red bird strolls up to the pile of food that the squirrel has left behind and starts to eat. My dog, Morisson watches all this, from the front porche of the house, with a look of amusement on his face. Morisson is used to food games. His brother dog, Javi, often tries to steal food from Morisson's bowl.
The finches don't faze him, but a fluttering female cardinal makes a large grey squirrel run up a tree, leaving behind him a large pile of bird seed that he has knocked out of the bird feeder and onto the ground. The red bird strolls up to the pile of food that the squirrel has left behind and starts to eat. My dog, Morisson watches all this, from the front porche of the house, with a look of amusement on his face. Morisson is used to food games. His brother dog, Javi, often tries to steal food from Morisson's bowl.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Can you show me the way to the head?
By Mikel K
I remember when people used to tell me what a great guy Michael Moore was, how he was out for the little man. Bullshit, I thought to
myself, and you know what; Moore has proven me correct. He is a grandstander and a hypocrite. If he "represents" the left, then the left is fucked. The world is in sad, sad shape when it comes to leaders. Bono seems to get a headline with every leadership type thing that he does. I've never liked the music of U2 and I wouldn't follow Bono anywhere. It is the guys and girls who don't want to lead me, who interest me. By minding their own business and doing the next right thing, they wind up doing what is good for me. Leaders are out for themselves, that's why they want to lead. "Leading" fills their ego and lines their wallets and pocketbooks.
Can you show me the way to the head?
By Mikel K
I remember when people used to tell me what a great guy Michael Moore was, how he was out for the little man. Bullshit, I thought to
myself, and you know what; Moore has proven me correct. He is a grandstander and a hypocrite. If he "represents" the left, then the left is fucked. The world is in sad, sad shape when it comes to leaders. Bono seems to get a headline with every leadership type thing that he does. I've never liked the music of U2 and I wouldn't follow Bono anywhere. It is the guys and girls who don't want to lead me, who interest me. By minding their own business and doing the next right thing, they wind up doing what is good for me. Leaders are out for themselves, that's why they want to lead. "Leading" fills their ego and lines their wallets and pocketbooks.
Can you show me the way to the head?
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
The sun is going down, and the sun tea is ready; I just spilled a bunch of it all over the kitchen counter. It tastes nice, to me, with stevia, a sweetener that won't give you cancer like they say that the pink, blue and yellow packeted ones will.
It's time for a session of evening poetry creation and toss the new tennis ball. Javi got to the first toss, first, so the game is on hold; he has to chew the yellow ball to death, he can't just drop it on the floor at my feet and let the game continue.
I've kind of decided to devote more time, right now, to poetry than to these journal entries. It seems that my poetry suffers when I spend too much time writing journals. Maybe there is a different head set to the two. Maybe there are only so many hours in the day. Anyway, Love likes the poetry better, and, for now, she is paying the bills, so I have to go with her preference.
Maybe...
Love and I are getting along real well, right now. She has learned to compromise. She has learned to give in. She has learned that I am the boss, that I am The Master and that she is The Slave. Hah. So not, but we are getting along real well, and she has learned how to end a fight way faster than she used to. When we first hooked up, and we would fight, she would sulk, and steal away into silence and not talk to me for days. Communication is key, we have learned. If you let the other person live in their head and imagine things, things just get worse. We have this thing called "pillow talk" where we go lie on the bed, put our head on the pillows and chat. This method has never failed to resolve any conflict between us. A nice side benefit to this method is that here we are, in the bed, all made-up from a fight and...what should we do next??!!!
We are out on the deck. Javi finally decided to give up the brand new tennis ball that he has been chewing on since I brought it out. Their is a problem though, one that Javi barks loudly about when I say, "Where's the ball?" The ball has, somehow, gotten itself lodged underneath the deck. Javi doesn't bark much, but exceptions are when his precious yellow balls roll under a couch or chair in the living room, or underneath the deck, here, outside. I really didn't want to get down in the dirt that surrounds the deck and dig the ball out, but I did. (I guess I'll do most anything for these dogs!) I'm nearly living in the country, I guess it won't hurt to get some dirt on my hands, every once in awhile, now will it?
The sun is red. The sun is to the right of me, trying to hide behind some trees. The sun is getting smaller and smaller. The sun has served us well, today. I thank the sun.
It's time for a session of evening poetry creation and toss the new tennis ball. Javi got to the first toss, first, so the game is on hold; he has to chew the yellow ball to death, he can't just drop it on the floor at my feet and let the game continue.
I've kind of decided to devote more time, right now, to poetry than to these journal entries. It seems that my poetry suffers when I spend too much time writing journals. Maybe there is a different head set to the two. Maybe there are only so many hours in the day. Anyway, Love likes the poetry better, and, for now, she is paying the bills, so I have to go with her preference.
Maybe...
Love and I are getting along real well, right now. She has learned to compromise. She has learned to give in. She has learned that I am the boss, that I am The Master and that she is The Slave. Hah. So not, but we are getting along real well, and she has learned how to end a fight way faster than she used to. When we first hooked up, and we would fight, she would sulk, and steal away into silence and not talk to me for days. Communication is key, we have learned. If you let the other person live in their head and imagine things, things just get worse. We have this thing called "pillow talk" where we go lie on the bed, put our head on the pillows and chat. This method has never failed to resolve any conflict between us. A nice side benefit to this method is that here we are, in the bed, all made-up from a fight and...what should we do next??!!!
We are out on the deck. Javi finally decided to give up the brand new tennis ball that he has been chewing on since I brought it out. Their is a problem though, one that Javi barks loudly about when I say, "Where's the ball?" The ball has, somehow, gotten itself lodged underneath the deck. Javi doesn't bark much, but exceptions are when his precious yellow balls roll under a couch or chair in the living room, or underneath the deck, here, outside. I really didn't want to get down in the dirt that surrounds the deck and dig the ball out, but I did. (I guess I'll do most anything for these dogs!) I'm nearly living in the country, I guess it won't hurt to get some dirt on my hands, every once in awhile, now will it?
The sun is red. The sun is to the right of me, trying to hide behind some trees. The sun is getting smaller and smaller. The sun has served us well, today. I thank the sun.
Sexy Within The Daily K
By Mikel K
Most days I don't feel sexy within. I don't feel sexy without, either. I don't much measure up to the media images of what a hot man is supposed to look like. I don't look good in a dress like Ru Paul does. I don't look good in a dress, like Kurt Cobain tried to. I don't feel right in a coat and tie; they choke me, and make me feel like I am playing somebody else's game. I look in the mirror, I see an overweight guy, who needs to shave, who never made the cover of anybody's magazine, was never GQ. The people over at Chippendale's would have laughed, had I ever asked to fill out an application. The guys and girls at Playgirl would have slammed the door in my face.
I'm ugly; inside and out. My dad made this clear to me.
That said, there are things that do make me feel sexy within; my kid, my pets, my writing.
Alcohol used to make me feel sexy, in fact alcohol was responsible for most of the sex that I had for the first thirty-four years of my life. Isn't that awful; your self-image is so low that you have to get drunk to feel good enough about yourself to chat with a lady at the bar. I could blame Dad, again, I could blame the Catholic Church, I could blame it on my genes, or my poor perception of how good I looked in those days in my jeans, but I won't. I'll take full responsibility for it. It was all my fault. I just didn't feel sexy within. Perhaps if I had, all that has happened to me wouldn't have happened to me. Not that things are bad, now. Like I said, my kids, my pets and my writing all make me feel sexy within. And there is this woman, who I met sober, who thinks I'm sexy. She makes me feel sexy within and without. I guess love is the key.
I'll try to show you some love from within this Sexy Within Website. From what I can tell, Lori has noble goals. I'll probably bitch some, though, because that is still my nature, though I strive on a daily basis to overcome it. I don't want to be a bitch; I want to be sexy within, don't you?
I write a near daily column called The Daily K. I post a lot of it at my myspace blog(www.myspace.com/mikelkpoet) Sometimes, in this column, I will be copying and pasting parts of The Daily K that I think that you just can't live without, that will make you feel sexy within. Hmmmmmmmm. Something like that. I'll also throw poems at you; because I'm a poet.
Enjoy.
By Mikel K
Most days I don't feel sexy within. I don't feel sexy without, either. I don't much measure up to the media images of what a hot man is supposed to look like. I don't look good in a dress like Ru Paul does. I don't look good in a dress, like Kurt Cobain tried to. I don't feel right in a coat and tie; they choke me, and make me feel like I am playing somebody else's game. I look in the mirror, I see an overweight guy, who needs to shave, who never made the cover of anybody's magazine, was never GQ. The people over at Chippendale's would have laughed, had I ever asked to fill out an application. The guys and girls at Playgirl would have slammed the door in my face.
I'm ugly; inside and out. My dad made this clear to me.
That said, there are things that do make me feel sexy within; my kid, my pets, my writing.
Alcohol used to make me feel sexy, in fact alcohol was responsible for most of the sex that I had for the first thirty-four years of my life. Isn't that awful; your self-image is so low that you have to get drunk to feel good enough about yourself to chat with a lady at the bar. I could blame Dad, again, I could blame the Catholic Church, I could blame it on my genes, or my poor perception of how good I looked in those days in my jeans, but I won't. I'll take full responsibility for it. It was all my fault. I just didn't feel sexy within. Perhaps if I had, all that has happened to me wouldn't have happened to me. Not that things are bad, now. Like I said, my kids, my pets and my writing all make me feel sexy within. And there is this woman, who I met sober, who thinks I'm sexy. She makes me feel sexy within and without. I guess love is the key.
I'll try to show you some love from within this Sexy Within Website. From what I can tell, Lori has noble goals. I'll probably bitch some, though, because that is still my nature, though I strive on a daily basis to overcome it. I don't want to be a bitch; I want to be sexy within, don't you?
I write a near daily column called The Daily K. I post a lot of it at my myspace blog(www.myspace.com/mikelkpoet) Sometimes, in this column, I will be copying and pasting parts of The Daily K that I think that you just can't live without, that will make you feel sexy within. Hmmmmmmmm. Something like that. I'll also throw poems at you; because I'm a poet.
Enjoy.
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