jpaulgorman

Mind creates and turns. Anything to burn. To yearn. Like spirits will aspire. On the live wire. Our desires. Rolled up in humanity. And those realities. Love feeds. The seas we all navigate. To another place. That face. Generation of new grooves. Old ain't smooth. Just used. Expressions sang out loud. Break from the crowd. Do it now. Sync it up now and celebrate. Atmosphere of this place. Pure grace.

The Crush Crash and its shrapnel. Free rail rides forever. Spectacles cure the boredom somehow. Horse races have always been money. Jack Johnson was a phenomenon. Galveston's famous superior son. All the white hope dopes. And the Reno beating. Before hurricanes were named. Isaac Cline's most beautiful day. And no high ground. Ferocious surge in the darkness. Oil gusher for nine days at Spindeltop. The petroleum revolution. Wildcatters striking everywhere. Instant boom city blues. Urbanization like a rapid virus. Haphazardly constructed. Systemless spaces of unsanitized insanity. The cost of industry. E7A7x2 D7A7 E7D7A7

Intellect and emotion are inseparable. Chemicals in the brain are altered. A constant blending of colors and facts. Memory is recalled, or not recalled. Oxygen and its complete necessity.        The sensory intakes. Emotion without intellect is unrestrained.      Ethicless.           Primal.                Uncivilized. Without emotion, intelligence is stale. Think of having a map, but no urge to go. Jokes that never lead to laughter. Answers without curiosity or ambition. Associations without affections.        Tragedy without sadness.

Extreme helpfulness. Completely listening. Curiously understanding. Doing nothing else. It is a tremendous skill. It can be made a habit. Close your eyes. Give it 3 long inhales. Give it 3 long exhales. Breathe. Like Pink Floyd sang. Run rabbit, run. Let the others worry with worry. If they want to.

Jesus!  The ocean is dark at night. God!  And loud as a rocket motorcycle gang. Lord!  The stars. Good God, the stars. Like Alabama sugar. Dotting the black space. Eternally.

...only takes one observent person. ...to notice everything around. ...interesting and uninteresting alike. ...a thoughtful walk. ...the young have more choices. ...morning has come. ...with another picture in the gallery. ...the golden light hitting just right. ...money ain't nothing and chicks ain't free. ...hippies with birkenstocks. ...unattainable supermodels. ...political give-em-hells. ...suits. ...mommies, God willing. ...all or none or something else or the other. ...whatever you wanna be. ...those were some hot tamales. ...that verde sauce had too much bite. ...my time is off. ...it tic tocs no longer. ...the rhythym of an eight count. ...always there.

     The professionally done sign in the lobby of Ariel Dunes 2 indicated a daily round robin at the Destin Tennis Club.  Named a Best Of in 2015.  9-11 am, $20 bucks.  To play on the green Florida clay was well worth it.  Perhaps some local players, similar to my tennis pals on Texas.  They would surely welcome me into the group for the 4 mornings I would play.  Monday through Thursday.  Unexpected, but had my gear and my annual month long tennis hiatus was done.  Back to it on the clay, work out the physical, the mental, and the anger.  Peaceful is the only way to play, it is true.  After a very beachy, boozy Sunday, followed by an outstanding Pontchartrain dish at Acme Oyster Bar, somehow awoke 30 minutes prior to the Monday morning event.  Got ready quick, out the door, and at the pro shop at 10 til.  Ready for these Florida dudes.  Ready to demonstrate Isner trained superiority, lone star grit, and Van...

Where the big bang slammed. Making the Gulf Of Mexico. With its deep waters. Eliminating the age of giants. This one yellow star shines down. From the south. Among the other more ivory stars. Surrounding the Emerald Coast. Clear space for now. Thunder from the dark ocean. Strikes far off. Peripheral visions. And airy, wavy sounds. Salts and sands. These cotton beaches. Best at night.

Thought I should let you know. Got a show in Morocco. Gonna blast the past real fast. With electric blues and class. Set in another time. Close the blinds with open minds. This song won't take too long. Little diddy, then I'll move along. Travel around the world. Have a swirl with all the girls. Step to the edge of the ledge. No need to plead or beg. And when I meet their king. Think Mohammed is his name. Give him a five on the side. The beat poets have arrived. DC GC GD CG

Like a happening. An event. That time when it went down. The opening action. Cared for intensly. Fiercely. Directed and shaped. Chipped and smoothed. Styled. Made happy. From the Funderburgh Paulson crowd. Loved up. Then a twinkle and smirk. Fell for it. Still falling and falling. Into the sea of life. And miracles. Two happenings of our own. All together. Til the twinkles and smirks. Blessed by your birth.