jpaulgorman

These strings are attached.  They are the only thing keeping this house of cards standing.  Flimsy relationships and sabotage, breaker one nines with radio checks.  Dreads and woes.  Mistaken identities and hacker nerds.  Details upon details.  Crooked cops and rambling tragedies, silenced by the dirt.  Chatterers, shatterers, and climbing the ladderers.  Crusaders of justice, the worst of all, justifying their own crimes with self-righteous smugs.  The servants are quietly among them, watching and waiting meekly.  They will inherit this earth. The secrets of Highland Park.  Even the rich get old and wither.  Shine on that cool wind.  There is almost no one to trust, almost no one with good intentions.  Most are preoccupied, fearing the unveiling of their daily truth.  Their regrets, their envys, their desires.  Unspoken, bound tight, kept.  Left honoring the past, cynical about the present, and dism...

"Hey man, gonna see Bob Schneider at The Granada on professional night." Professional night?  What's that? "Never heard of professional night?" Nope. "Ever heard of amatuer night?" Sure, New Years Eve--amatuer night! "Right.  Bob plays Austin on amateur night every year.  He plays Dallas on professional night, the night before amateur night.  Full band, always a tight group.  Ollie's got the moves.  Slow motion and exact.  Bass player got the bass player sway.  Top of the line players, all of them.  Bob is a master, funny as shit!  You should go." Gonna be a lot of people there? "It's Bob.  It will be packed.  The professionals of Dallas know what's up on professional night every year.  It's Bob, man!" Sounds like a lot of people, not really my scene. "Not your scene?  Not your scene?!?  This ain't no scene.  This is tunes.  Tunes is the thing.  Nobody gives a shit about a damn...

DD7GG7x3 DAGD Before we saw the sun. Was cleaning my gun. Under the moonlight. Was setting my sights. Sure to shoot em clean. So they die right on the scene. Now there's blood on the tailgate, and that's a damn good thing. Set up in a blind. Sipping mellow moonshine. Being quiet as cats. Almost took a nap. Suddenly a rack appeared. The shot was there, the view was clear. Now there's blood on the tailgate, and that's cause for some cheers. Late in the day. Kneeling on some hay. Long bows strung tight, Like to arrow one out. Let one fly, shot it just fine. Smooth release and steady eye. Now there's blood on the tailgate, and that's a damn good sign. *co-written with Corey Baker.

Vantaggio, Vantaggio. It's your advantage, time to slam the door. Vantaggio, Vantaggio. It's your victory, overcame, endured. Many, many tennis apparel companies will promise many, many things.  Modern fabrics, more modern than the previous modern fabrics.  Lighter apparel, so the weight of your sweat is spilled on the court, not retained and carried during play.  Fashionable and tasteful styles, with sensible tailoring, double stiched and reinforced.  Ample colors that pop, in a certain kind of way, cool and worldly.  Yes, many, many tennis apparel companies will promise these things.  Many.  Only one delivers---Vantaggio.  Its your advantage... Vantaggio, Vantaggio. It's your advantage, time to slam the door. Vantaggio, Vantaggio. It's your victory, overcame, endured. GDCGx4. *Commissioned by Vantaggio Tennis Apparel Company.  This is a JingleHut creation.

CG What you wanna say. What you wanna see. What you wanna find. What you wanna be. Where you wanna go. Where you wanna fly. Where you wanna run. Where you wanna lie. GD7CG And all we ever wanted was a certain kind of magic, yes a certain kind of tragic understanding of our minds. Why you wanna hurt. Why you wanna bleed. Why you wanna slide. Why you wanna need. When you wanna shine. When you wanna freak. When you wanna love. When you wanna meet. And all we ever wanted was a certain kind of magic, yes a certain kind of tragic understanding of our minds. How we gonna know. How we gonna wake. How we gonna jam. How we gonna shake. Are we gonna dream. Are we gonna raise hell. Are we gonna think. Are we gonna tell.

Some version of a vision is all we need to get started.  From there, the wind will help us, the tides will be perfect, the moon will light the way.  Not reacted to, but absorbed quickly.  It's merely information, nothing changes.  We go forward.  Again, with the wind.  Breezy and fresh, a rush of coolness to the stubborn and dumb. Automatically, we reach for the duct tape.  It has been proven time and time again over the years.  Minor repairs, major emergencies, airtight seals, apprehensions.  Available in all colors, however, silver is by far the most popular.  Some day duct tape will be obsolete like wires are becoming, but it will take awhile.  Decades, maybe.    Run for the money, hustle all you want.  Rely on the lie.  It is a trap, a waste, a folly.  Make peace and money will run to you.  Care less about it, be careless with it, it is completely irrelevant now.  Everyone will ...

1.  It's all relational manipulations and The Chinese. 2.  Interrogations and confidence shakers, then the fidget's betrayal. 3.  The wine's effect, and the get down with the get downs. 4.  She ain't no coward, sister. 5.  Camping out at Camp David for the dignity, sleeping in deciding rooms. 6.  Power never lasts, the greed and paranoyia are too much to overcome. 7.  His only light is dimming, everything else is already dark. 8.  Toward the rocks they are led, near the cliffs of the Pacific Sea. 9.  Asylum seekers beware, your paper means nothing now.

In my mind, it is complete. You are either in or out.  Your thoughts are captured, or not.  Activity can distract, but only for a time. In my heart, the blood gets pumped.  Out to the senses, which know what they like.  Feel it, the heart is where feelings are sent from. In my conscious, the running feud.  These days must be lived, but there are others involved.  This is not a solitary situation. In my soul, the truth is clear and known.  But it doesn't take sides.  It has already won, and urgency for love is its preoccupation. Keep the brain in control and thinking forward, memories can be recalled later as needed or wanted.  Erase the meaningless. In my logic, it is absurd.  And quite unlikeky.  For reasons of reason and delusional tendencies, this is my mirage. Tumble down slowly, with all the dignity you got.  Walk it off and whistle a tune.  The world will still spin, gravity will save you.

The general slayer. Don't buy the protocol, don't buy the sleaze. The broken mend. And they are made stronger from pain. Then justice is served. Karma is nothing more than inevitability. Cold and unapologetic. Strut and swerve through the in crowd. Support each other. Common grounds, get on the road. Find a way through. The pity of others is a shock to the soul. We are forward. Toward the signs of the times and love. All is past. It only existed and now is forgiven. Silence is not brave. Amplify it up to rock out the house. Make the smoke count. It will smooth the mind with calm.

C.              F.               G. Well, the glass was tipped. F.                                 C. Til all the drops were sipped. F.                                  C. Til the eyes dried shut. C.              G.                 F.            C. Til the tab was paid up.  Paid up. Gone with the wine. Tasted the earth's decline. Tasted the rains. Tasted the shames.  Damn shames. Tune in to the sixer. Playing tunes, sweet sister. Playing Anson's blues. Playing Texas truth. Fucking truth. Take the county road. Drive slow and low. Drive curves and turns. Drive til you burn.  Baby.  Burn. Once I h...

In every story, true or not, there is a common thread.  A point to the telling.  A reason for the remembrances.  Like it was, with flair and embellishments.  For true non-fiction is never enough.  Some mystery must be present.  Some intrigue.  To not risk is to give up, to quit.  If we can trust anything at all, now is the time.  Love is worth it, truly it is the point of it all.  Nothing about lust or power is considered, or meaningful.  The contrary perceptions are the real thrill, the actual deal.  The uncurious assumers can take a flying fluctuation.  Make it about something very specific.  The cards of this house have gone deep into the brains, where thoughts originate and bloom, where the dots connect and create something new.  From this, relationships can grow strong.  Not the fleeting associations of the insecure and desperate, but knowing unions of common respect.  Complications all around....

A fine place of work it was.  Enough action to keep interest high, money enough to thrive, a future to make so.  Possibilities and opportunities, people known for years and years.  Then the silver, then the lips.  A kiss off for the trouble, a smooch for the rest.  Many days.  Many.  Ready, confident, going along.  Tell the stories, crack them up.  Draw thoughts from others and encourage wildness....within the confines of respectability and laws, of course.  Times, man, times.  Removing doubt, predicting, knowing.  To the new age, and far ahead.  Catch up to now and you are only way behind.  There is no significance anymore.  What's done is done, what's past is past.  The lights are still on.

Ain't got no moves. No jukes, no jives, no gazes in the eyes. Only thoughts is all. Of love, of light, of your sweet delights. Forget the schemes. Be blonde, be blue, be happy and true. Crack a big smile. Through lies, through sneers, through whispered smears. We could create pure trust, where nothing is held back and everything is unmasked.  It would be difficult, the survival instinct of pride has captured our natures.  A good life is not good enough, a complete life is what we want.  An exhausted and used life.  One that is not remembered, or emulated, or admired, or rewarded.  Only completed, without fear, without regret, without apologies.  The senses are where the wonders lie, identify our sweet delights through them.  What we like to taste, what we like to see, what we like to hear, what we like to smell, and what we like to feel.  Isolate, then combine, then isolate, then combine, and on and on.  Solitude has its limits, ...

Reminders of a recent past. The one you forgot and still can't recall. Like the story was never told. Or never happened. Write a crypto future. Governments will struggle to keep control. Centralization, diminished. No paper pushing. No middle squeeze. Confusing and wild. Like other changes within and without. The open roads are there. Take a thoughtful approach. Enjoy the day. Time is the thing. Its allocation, its use, its opportunity. Fall in or decide for yourself. Arrangements and accommodations. Compromises and agreements. The sensible way. To boredom. And fear. You are the user of your time. Every second, minute, and hour. Every day, night, week, and month. Then, years go by. And you are not dead. Positively 4th street honey. Bobby's truth. Shout a tune of rebellion and evolution. They are deserving of nothing. Open your mind and force it to experience. Then, close it to create. Pure art.

     The reign of Queen Rachel has begun.  This killer of Kings, this punker of Princes, this demoralizer of Dukes, this executioner of Earls.  No man!  No man could beat her this day.      In the Valparaiso Sports Hall of Fame the name Rachel Janssen is enshrined, her accomplishments documented, revered, known far and wide.  A literal Crusader.  The put-away artist.  The set-up specialist.  Think of nothing, she said.  Perhaps watch the strings hit the shot.  Pray.  Simple basics was the only solicited advice she offered.  She wanted every point, she loved to play, she was sleek and swift.  Precise and merciless.  To win a single game against her in the morning round was the highlight of my peasant effort.  King Of the Court 10 ended in historical fashion.  A woman wears the crown.  Queen Rachel.  Immediately, the ramifications were clear.  Marty The Missing no s...

Only delusional dreamers would try that.  Who, in their right minds, would attempt it?  Take on the established, normalized cultures of our lives.  To resist expectations and surprise.  Outlandish.  Usually, wrapped in prestige, tradition, and respectability.  Just enough righteouness to keep it sustained, just enough for a slow, but steady, growth.  Keep it together for a hundred years and no one on earth will know an alternative.  Nationalism, religion, economics, political philosophies, relationships of all types.  And, yes, scoring methods.  The morning of King Of The Court 10, a rejection of the numbing scoring systems of the past, a repudiation of idleness, a slap at subjective ratings and carpetbagging strategies.  A flip to the USTA for propping up this nonsense through fees and grants.  An app could replace the whole operation.  Along with the Isner Scoring Method, a tennis revolution could emerge in America....