jpaulgorman

.a decending of sorts. .back to the farm. .bit by reality. .didn't bite back. .a pleading of course. .stacked in the barn. .hit by finality. .caught in the act. .a year maybe more. .since she was born. .lit by mortality. .checked the facts. .a cleansing endorsed. .the maps been torn. .tripped by mentalities. .got off track. .a pretending by choice. .hacked and harmed. .hid from neutrality. .refused to take sides. .a resending of noise. .sound the alarm. .content with my melody. .nothing to hide. CDx2 CG DG

         The wreckage of KOtC4 is just being swept off the pavement.  Traffic was jammed for miles.  But no one gets through before the King.  Re-introducing--King The Todd.  In a test of resolve, faith, and understanding, King The Todd slid the best on the wet surface, King The Todd ignored the wind and hit the most perfect shots, King The Todd broke the will of even the finest competitors.  Cushman The Kid, wanted another shot at him from the morning session but had his own battle in the Duke division, where the tournament administrator, and co-founder of the Isner Scoring Method, became a royal.  That's right, Duke Keck.  The Prince was claimed by the mysterious Mir sub, Victor Coronado.  A seemingly proud man, he'll be an honorable Prince, but he clearly has his eye on the throne.  Prince Coronado will get his chance at King The Todd in the summer KOtC5.  Bulldog Bobby saw his game firsthand as he clawed his...

Styrofoam, styrofoam, all over my home. All I've ever known, styrofoam, styrofoam. Parking lot, parking lot, gonna come to a stop. Might like it or not, parking lot, parking lot. New York nights, New York nights, think we just might. Get on the plan and fly, New York nights, New York nights. Love is true, love is true, what you gonna do. The cure for my blues, love is true, love is true. Styrofoam, styrofoam, don't wanna be alone. You'll find me at my home, styrofoam, styrofoam.

     Being put in charge of trophies for King Of the Court 4 is a massive responsibility and a massive challenge.  Previously, the standard had been raised and the trophies I devised for KOtC1 seemed inadequate.  Keck told me his expectations were high and that I must deliver.  Like the future of the tournament, and possibly the sport of tennis, was at stake.  I felt the full weight of his trust and finally settled on my plan.  Possibly the most coveted, certainly the most valuable, and absolutely appropriate.  Their unveiling at the check in card table will inspire the field.  The best field to date.  16 players ready and committed.  2 Isner round robin sessions, 6 opponents each, 60 total games each.  For the tournament, 96 total mahuts, 960 total games, a King, a Prince, a Duke, and an Earl.  All in about 5 hours.  The trophies must be nice and significant, and will be.      Do not envy Keck. ...

...looking out for some meteorites...in the northeastern sky...early birds still in the nest...feathers wrapped tightly...almost made a mockery of the whole situation...unreportable problems of rationing and calculation errors...add up the numbers, you get what you get...emotional meldowns and claims of insanity...physical wreckage of the painful kind...the tv tube has gone lame...they are all flat and aware of time...its constant beat...the deep bass like your family...the parade of backup singers...the keys put the squeeze on my knees...and the lead like a warrior...keeping rhythm and framing the song...stories of facts and fiction...hang on the vowels...

...we don't come up with this...true art us not from us...melody is revealed...in the blank stare humming...in the tapping and the ticking...the whole world moves in 4.4 time for many...for others silence is the preferred noise...moderate indulgences combined with taste...which is from us and easily misapplied...like an instrument...we are to be used...worn out and discarded...but that is for later...now we are being calibrated constantly...inundated with inspiration...tugged at with incredible persistence...made sick for resisting....made alive for allowing...this is for nothing...it is for someone else...but it is not from me...

She's gone mad on the live wire. You are welcome gentlemen. This one ain't ready. Only the broken can continue. The perfect are too frail. Darts for eyeballs. Sure enough it worked out. It always does. In some way or another. I'll be back directly. Gonna drive the south field. Check on the fence wire. Need to get the powder out. Those animals getting eat up. Damn flies. Wildcats growling for real. Devious intentions. Thirsty and ready.

It's a big sun this morning. Her heart toubled and burning. It's alright.  Honey it's alright. Got dropped in a spot. World got rocked. Truth is the only clarity. Cg Fc Gfc

      The winds blow wild in Wylie.  Always.  The 4 courts are set on a hill, enclosed by a single fence.  One side has no windscreens and the ones loosely attached along the remaining sides hiss and howl when it gets breezy.  Halfway between Rockwall and McKinney it's proximity was ideal for a Saturday morning Isner Roundrobin.  Joe was already there when Keck and I drove up around 7:45 am.  Bobby arrived a bit later and we got loose.  Because we knew 40 games awaited us, the warm up was brief and we spun racquets quickly.  2 up, 2 down and the pairings were clear.  Keck and I, Joe and Bobby.  The format calls for a 10 game mahut against each player, with #1 and #4 playing #2 and #3 in a 10 game doubles mahut to finish it off.  The first 30 games replicates a morning or afternoon KOtC session.      Predictably, Keck took first.  Bobby and I battled for #2 and at deuce in the final game of our m...

.big moon tonight. .thousands and thousands of human hours. .idling slowly. .radio updates on the sound waves. .tales of fish tails and sirens. .tracking numbers and lies.

.lets hear the whole story. .skip that boring part. .perfect detail. .refinement can destroy. .and it can enhance. .a true art it is. .speak deliberately. .mainly not to spit. .walk with a loose and limber gait. .keep swimming against the waves. .the crowd should never be followed. .almost never. .my patience is lacking. .my conclusions are wicked. .my temper gets riled from time to time. .usually, I contain. .absence makes the heart more real. .even an hour or day. .something supernatural is happening. .bread and water and body and blood. .forgiveness can be asked for. .and is given. .the truth lies in what's been done. .it is the truth for a reason. .it is true. .we don't have to save ourselves. .sweet Jesus!! .thanks God.

emamem amd7 Pick out about five fat ones. The air is getting cold. Hog killing weather. Offer them a handful of corn. 22 between the eyes. Slice the throat, bleed em out. Shave the hairs, down to the tail. Toss the guts aside. Skin the skin, leak the lard. Hanging in the trees. Get some hams, keep the ribs. The rest is sausage. If you got the right recipe. Red pepper, sage, and garlic. Give the head to the help. Keep the toungue and some brains for mawmaw. She went through the Great Depression, ya know. Bacon is just too much trouble. Cracklings are a real treat. Cover up that meat in salt, cure it up. Rent some freezer space in town. It's cold out today. Getting to be hog killing weather.