jpaulgorman

GC DCG Came through town and made it his own. Like Trombone Shorty on his trombone. Took the stage and looked us in the eyes. Never held back and never gave us lies. Down for the getdown, up for the nightlife. Got a cool sports car, got a cooler wife. Riding down the road like Steve McQueen. Never seen no one who was so code green. DCGx3 CDG O'Riviezzo, oh. O'Riviezzo, oh no. O'Riviezzo, there he goes. Oh, O'Riviezzo. Rides out of Texas with his hat in his hand. Leaves Denver behind like a mountain man. Culturfied and dignified with girls to raise. Along for the adventure of his career maze. Italians and Irish are one in the same. They like food and music and other things. So a toast and a cheer as we all have a cry. Hope he enjoys those Galway nights.

Reduced visibility, the haze of days.  In the gray, where decisions are not clear, where it could go either way.  The pros and the cons.  Plus out the minuses, play the odds.  Even on a clear day, when no one else is looking.  The high, thin layers that scatter the blue sky like lattice.  Like a doilie.  Like lace.  They form communications, transmitting information overload only a few understand.  Coded and sure. The smog coughs in the city.  Exhaust, smoke stacks, various facilities.  From deep in the lungs, the sediment of streets, the chemical emissions.  The ozone will be fine, but many will succumb.  Breathless.  The operation accumulates the poison and reduces its effects.  There is nothing else to do.  The good air stays clean, the oceans act as a filter.  The origin of salt, and its preservations. Woke up in a panic, nothing could be seen.  Fresh dream of harsh stares and disappointme...

Even the birds don't care. They fly high, above it. Shoes are for wearing. Not selling. First foot, last foot. Then to the junk pile. Or the giveaway pile. Either way, keep em. Two hundred Washingtons. And well worth it. Now the dreams can really start. Screens scream and hollar. Blahs are blahed and blahed. Methods and ways of being. We all find our own way through. Reckless or careful. Or carefully reckless. Stubborn for sure. Surviving til saving time. When it all really begins. All together. Now is always temporary.

Shake it, shake it, go for free. No need to hide, mostly. Nothing disgraceful, nothing sleazy. The friendly and fine. Just cracking up, mostly. Some lifting up. Cheering up. Then small turns to large. The magnifications. Imaginations running away. Not believed in. Thankfully, and finally. All the knights have died. They have already been used.

Paint the sky to greet the day.  It makes us happy and hopeful.  Colors and light, the perfect spin.  The sun has a solar responsibility.  The plants and trees have needs.  The seasonal rains, the critical light, the chloroplast.  Heat.  Only the sun makes the operation possible, that is without question.  Make way for the night, dusk makes us wild and shady.  Cover the stars or let us see the constellations.  Orion's belt, both dippers, Jupiter's moons.  Accomplishments and woes, reflections and rejections. Watch it fade, everyone has their favorite horizon. Artists from the past.  The cave drawings, the rock carvings, the iron twistings.  The canvases and paints, the murals, beyond post modern.  Every medium, every type of creation.  All of it.  Clouds everywhere.  Angels ascending and decending.  To heaven and back, evidently.    Inspiration is a dangerous thing, it must be carefu...

Temperature started to rise.  Long cool woman ran for cover.  5'9 or so, running tall.  In a black dress.  She had it all.  Clouds are created by specific conditions that involve the climate of the air.  Therefore, controlling the temperature enables weather intention.  The rain to drink, the snow to ski, the perfect to inpire, the treacherous to overcome.  The droughts, deserts, places like death valley.  The tropics with their hammocks and drinks.  The mountains with their scenes and smells.  The cities with their neon streets and glass.  The towns, low and slow. But there is desolation, despondency, and doom, still.  For those who lack faith or hope.  And faith is in abundant supply, unlimited and there for the taking.  Like many things, it is mysterious, but it is surely not of our own making.  It is proof the operation is peaceful, its existence is to allow for our temporary life.  For unknown r...

Electricity burns neon in the night. Like lasers in a flashing dream. Far out.  (Boom) The dark disappears in the lights. And we're left with audio things. Radical.  (Bam) Flying in flying cars above the sands. To the western mountain range. Groovy.  (Bop) Near the old Native American lands. Through the winds and through the rains. Fab.  (Beep) Evening colors of afternoons in June. Heavy storms swirl in the sky. Cool.  (Bump) Ice crystals melt and thunder booms. And the clouds began to cry.

Musically, there are rythems too.  It's not just what we feel or see.  The sounds are predictable, but the melodies are endless.  Eternal, like the afterlife.  Ever expanding, like the universe itself.  Our toes tap to the beats, our humanity is united.  The melodies are made into songs, words are added, the music is the delivery method.  Straight to the heart, the mind, connecting a room.  Or a circle.  Or through the blue teeth, our regards to the blue again.  Or from the digital cloud.  Proximity has been defeated, it's importance diminished.  Freedom, liberty, and independence pacifys and empowers.  This they know. Thunder only happens when it's raining.  Stevie knew when she wrote it.  Years ago, 40 trips ago, or so.  Nicks of time.  Around the sun, the travelling life.  Through the nothing, the airless silence beyond our precious oxygen.  The sound waves are still there, they are dete...

And regarding the blue.  The cloudless sky, the deep seas.  The shades.  The blue eyes that stare unknowingly.  Dumbly, sadly.  Unaware of their insight, unaware of their accessible knowledge, distracted by vanity and mirrors.  The reflective properties of the operation, creating illusions and disappearances.  Invisible to airplanes and drones and telescopes.  No naked eye has a chance, regardless of color.  Even ambervision is a lie.  Our electronics are inferior, only imagination and art can come close to the truth.  And the Word, of course, which speaks of being swept up into skies.  The major and minor prophets told of all this.  Centuries prior.  That is the truth of it. Then the moods.  The blue tones and tunes.  The blue notes, and Birdland.  Miles.  Noise is the opposite of music.  The contrast of silence and breaks.  Even within a duo, a trio, four, or more.  Each instrum...

One day we will just have to think it. Audio callibrations and syncs. RIP Tom Petty. Go to your own shows, listen for free. Prime documenteries. We got time for all this?   Early, with some talking heads. The grass season is beginning. Tube's on mute. Expectations lead to disappointment. The story must be good. Like, it must be worth wasting time. All aboard The Vessel. Remembering dreams. They are ony releasing the meaningless. Irrational and unlikely fears. Locked up in the courtyard. Get a blade right away. Wait, hold up. There so many rooms around here. They don't care about us. Little criminals is all. Randy Newman and the time travel blues. Chlorine only kills in large, large doses. Paraphrasing is impossible. Zip around. This German tournament is empty. Stuttgart, in the early rounds. FAYM at the Saxon Pub. Needs a little life. Higher sandards for the records.

Casual activity at a reasonable pace.  Leave the busy for business.  Even then, active, but paced.  Easier intended than done, but the intention is worth it.  The doing is the euforia, it is the ride.  It is the trip of life. Avoid emotions that need avoiding.  Confrontation is not always the answer.  Not even usually.  More like, rarely.  Others to talk, others to see, others to understand and love.  Opportunity is found in others.  They inspire, they are inspired. Experience the elements of the world, the people, the dirt, the water, and the air.  The foods and drinks.  The vegetables and fruits and plants.  The trees.  The scenes and aromas.  The instincts and desires.  The spirits.  The cool, the cold, the warm, the heat.  The known.  And the not yet known.

The undertaking of describing the best and worst tennis kits of 2019 in 500 words was entered into knowingly, willingly, and enthusiastically.  An assignment!  Vantaggio's progress in year 2 of the 5-year plan is inspiring.  To be in the middle of the tennis tug of culture war is not a random development.  It is an intentional assault on anything static and lame in the game.  And there is plenty of issues, methods, attitudes, fashion mediocrity, and lameness to confront.  We are merely at the middle of the beginning.  The 15-year plan must be established and committed to soon.  Running simultaneously with the 5-year plan, the longer plan is more visionary, and more ambitious.  The establishment competition is entrenched, not progressing, not retreating.  Arrogant apathy.  The worst kind of apathy.  Offensive and smug.  It will backfire on them.  Which seems a fine segway to the The   Junkyard Court's Best And Wo...

Overcast skies provide cover for the repairs.  Nothing can be seen.  At times only a haze is needed.  Fog brings them down to the ground.  Among us until they lift.  It's a paternal, nurturing operation.  Enabling life for us all.  Protecting it.  Sustaining it.  Allowing for it.  Most Ultra V rays are absorbed.  Some aren't.  Those heat the oceans and are reflected by the desert sands, providing energy back to the clouds.  The healthier, the more moisture.  The more moist, the better.  Earth shall avoid Mars' fate, the disintegrated atmosphere.  Hope they learned their lessons.  Probably, a massive asteroid got through and ruined the place.  It was a mistake, an accident.  Like the dinosaurs, who just ended up eating each other.  Barbaric, gruesome, stinky. The moon, especially the dark side, is mostly unknown.  Like a remote space island.  It pulls and pushes with its gravi...

They were there the whole time, the space folks and the space spaceships.  In the clouds, out at sea, making noise with thunder, fueling the whole operation with lightening and wind.  Of course! It all makes sense now, what was seen in the clouds.  Faces, always faces, and quick moving storm tops.  Creatures.  The desert is the only place to hide.  And all the natural disasters are actually unnatural, but definately not man made.  Or woman made.  Not human. So convienient, incredible in its simplicity.  Embarrassing, almost.  The never-ending jet streams, the El Ninos, the air masses, the humidity.  The meteorologist knew all along, fooling us with forecasts and radars.  Twisters, the Bermuda Triangle, cyclones, hurricanes. We arrived, they were already here.

Harry Kane and the Liverpool Blues. That rule was changed years ago. Lucas Moura is preparing to play. Brazilians and their winning ways. The possession game is boring everyone. Nothing is happening on the field. Total body check at the end, left undone. Urgency right now, it is the only way. Frisco nights, whoo hoo's and drinks. This could turn into a ruckus for sure. Keep the moonroof open, smell the rain. Dealing in black and blue speed riffs. Tottenham had no chance from the start. They played passive, emotionally deficient. Not enough adreneline for the final kicks.