jpaulgorman

Not just a small tweak The reforms do cut deeply- These cold hallowed nights

And the chapter does end, the next one practically written in your mind. All the corner store people, the one's that whistle and stutter, continue their chatter. They make the most with words, despite the dumb profanity. To fill the air with punctuation noise. No reason for alarms or flags. All is known that can be known. For now. Real knowledge can't be bought, only comprehended. Only revealed. The world is made up of bandits and jokers. Laughing maniacs, giggling lunatics. Don't have a fit. Only babes are uncontrolled, the classy women are grown.

...the long faces of the ancients. ...in a row, generation after generation. ...judging and frowning. ...the guilt of expectations. ...the shame of doubt. ...we are free now. ...walking the river beds. ...hollowed out walls with brittle rocks. ...lines of crystal snake through the red. ...the sandy bottom. ...rough brush, laying low on the trail. ...loose footing and slips. ...to fern cave. ...like eden almost. ...northwest corner of Caprock Canyon. ...near Turkey, Texas. ...where Bob Wills is still the king. ...a quick sit. ...got back on the high ridge. ...incredible scenes. ...then the water ran out. ...the haynes decent went on forever. ...real hiking. ...breaking the fall. ...and a buffalo staredown. ...on the road for the final mile. ...cars from far off states rolling by. ...these red walls echo gravity blues. ...fight and scratch to break through. ...tried to look in the soul to find it. ...instead of leaving everything behind.

Alone for now. Not lonely. Noises of this place enough. The birds are cawling and errking. Appliances hum. Wind is loud out here. In the good people lands. Just the cure for the hurry it ups. The run arounders. And the gotta do's. Run to Spur for lunch. Walk the town a bit. Later. Be doing that later. Much later. After my dreams.

Spur, TX .  First off, go here.  5 of 5 stars.  This cafe off the main downtown road is fantastic.  Fantastic if you like tasty gravy.  Fantastic of you like perfectly chicken fried chicken fried steak.  Fantastic if you like long fresh cut potato tasting fries, texas toast that is fresh and crispy, a salad that is cold.  Like some thousand islands.  Fantastic if you like big tea cups.  Sweeten it yourself if you like.  The waitress anticipated, the menues were clean.  Locals came through steady.  No rush.  Passed on the meatloaf special, but bet it was good.  Fans silently moving the cool October air around.  The chef even came out to clear some dishes.  Polite and respectful, not like the mad cooks in the city.  Unhinged, like some art is being criticized.  Paranoid of thier greatness.  Reputation weary.  The chef of the Turnaround Cafe seeks irrelevancy for himself and perfection for ...

Hearing the names for King Of The Court 8 (KOtC8), cleary we are courting the best field ever courted in the history of this perpetual and royal tennis experience.  Tournament Administrator Keck's recruiting excellence has built a royal family of tennis Kings and Princes and Dukes and Earls.  And the Kings do get the spoils of war.  The ransom.  King James (2), King The Todd (2), King Stone, King Foster, and King Huff.  Glory is theirs. King Stone and King Huff are back for the KOtC8 crown.  The other Kings have unavoidable scheduling conflicts.  The perfectly comfortable friday afternoon cold patio blond ale was smooth and delicious.  Keck continued to reveal the line up.  We were both in, of course.  And Joe and William The Earl.  Frank Friday had confirmed, prioritizing this event while scheduling his USTA fall season.  Another very, very respectable trait that Frank Friday posesses that makes him, a former Prince and Ear...

a7e7 e7a7 d7a7 e7d7a7 *Daddy never told me nothing bout surviving the deep blues. *Never let me know how to fight and scratch just to break through. *Guess he never had to look in his mind to see what he'd find. *Avoided the emotions by hitting the road almost every time. *Now I'm in a spot, like it or not, got the deep blues. *Every day I feel like running away and sometimes I do. *Midnight run to the North End so I could pray to you. *You took my rap then you sent me back, then I knew. *Hold on til morning comes, the deep blues'll pass. *Find a room to play some tunes, do it fast. *Sing about loss, sing about the boss, it ain't your fault. *Times like these when your on your knees, plead baby plead baby plead baby plead.

These are days of blues. The melancholy has been fed. It has grown unattended. In a general sense. A companion always. The canvas of my life. Colors of playfulness and joy. Occupiers of attention for a moment. Like a dream almost.

Pylons and barriers everywhere. Orange was the color. The runners must be safe. The traffic must be directed. Get through to the circle drive and drop it all off. Beat up and used. Clear and clean is the air. A beautiful short fall begining again in Texas. Catch it quick. The plug in woes. Turning dials and checking connections. A reboot of the reboot. And the noise was amplified. Grateful Dead jam to start. Then P57MONK with the house set. Incredible sounding winds and robot voices behind a layered array of riffs, rhythms, and other interesting sounds, repeating perfectly and transitioning with fades and DJ engineering. Nantucket was next. As always loud and rocking like the ocean, deep waves and crashing downs, prepared for survival in a solid boat before heading off to laramie with a masterpiece. Popped an Oktoberfest and checked in on the Horns. The Okies thirsty revenge. Dodged a choo choo train. High fives to the silver and bronze. Gold was too quick. ...

...the storms only last for awhile my babe. ...destruction is always followed by peace. ...and the worst day is followed by the best. ...plugged everything in and got sound. ...resting in nantucket til the early morning. ...the give-up is only a temporary solution. ...forgiveness and love will always remain. ...the hope that the vision will be seen again. ...like it was imagined in the kissing days. ...so sad is the sight of insecurity and fear. ...active eyes keeping watch on all the backs. ...emotions and moods are seperate indeed. ...like splashes of color on a solid canvas. ...conditions are perfect for a masterpiece. ...merely an announcement of the band. ...no audience interactions or witty remarks. ...songs with no names play in succession. ...polite nods and appreciation to close.

The unrest. For whatever reason. Angst or something. A measure. Everything stacked up. And multiplied. Only silliness. Nonsense my lady. Free the will. Holy forgiveness. Forgot to forget. Like God does. Peace talkers. Only words to say. Actions are real.