Aliens For Sure

.check the spin rate.
.it's a millisecond behind.
.days will last forever if this keeps up.
.the orbit could slow down too.
.we'll age slower and slower.
.it could be the truth.
.suspended by the pull of the sun.
.otherwise we collapse.
.like knots in a rope.
.our solar system mates.
.we found the right one.
.this didn't happen by accident.
.stashed here for the time being.
.along with everyone else.
.getting our kicks.
.supporting others.
.traveling through time with anticipation.
.aliens for sure.

The Jolly Melancholy

not once did I consider shopping.
out in the public with reorders and sequels.
dashing all over the towns.
dodging new drivers.
even the experienced are too distracted now.
connections require maintenance.
even the virtual kind.
and maintenance requires thought.
and brains can only think of one thing at a time.
exponential connections.
exponential thoughts.
real relations are built primarily on tangible activities.
breathing and beating through time together.
perhaps for different reasons.
out of obligation and pity or attraction and love.
our minds are unclear and unclean.
corrupted and selfish.
memories are long and unreliable.
learning can only be done now.
all the people that have lived and died.
for reasons and for nothing at all.
some never made it to the crib even.
some just carry on.
the jolly melancholy.
the uppers and downers.
the quiet and the loud.
the bored and the excited.
experiencing time together.

The Mother Road

there was nothing there.
dense woods with stickers and thorn vines.
sharp, dead sticks everywhere.
tall trees, thin and thick.
sky was way up, but bright enough.
like a huge skylight in a theater of brush.
brother had backpacks of stripped golf balls.
he worked on the lawn crew at the club.
from our own backyard driving range.
we hit them all at the future parkway.
just a nice little neighborhood in the western mckinney hills.
first instinct was to grab our shotguns.
see what was around.
we grew up with creeks and dirt, and nature all around.

tried the sandy, windy west for a year or so.
but west texas is only good for driving through and short visits.
to me anyway.
people are old and nice.
in a hee haw kind of way.
oh well, there's no trees.  oh well.
but, there are oasises all around.

the bridge was first, then a back way to the highway.
like our very own back road.
jeep rides up fresh earth mountains in the construction zone.
then mile by mile, year by year.
all the way past the tollway and past that too.
it is six lanes now.
businesses are named after it.
high schools and middle schools are everywhere.
libraries and drug stores, various facilities and a water tower.
to the hunter s. thompson soundroom in frisco.
where the spacefolk was developed.
where nantucket time never stops.
on the mother road.
the other way, east from here.
there is a brewery and an airport that can land a jet.
a golf course in the wilson creek bottoms.
through the industrial district.
we are far out.
look both ways honeys.
watch the the light.
pay attention to the traffic all around.
anything can happen here.
your dreams can come true.
decide the future and go.
take the the city of gold road.
you can always take it back.

A Strenuous Peace

peace is a mindset.   its advocates quibble over tactics and labels.  anyone of any character or noble intention or the ability to overcome their own self interest, even for a moment, should agree. a peaceful existence is better than a conflicted one.  most people, more than most, would rather live in peace.  they could all call themselves pascifists and it would be true.  we are working towards it always, avoiding the irrelevant, chilling out, selecting our influence carefully and thoughtfully.  these are habitual instincts and should be reinforced and reminded often.  it is a strenuous peace.  one that is fought for, one that is sacrificed for, one that is not easy.  a deal will make no difference.  it is heart, it is mind, and it is most definitely soul.  it must be made clear by word and by deed.  the soulless can stand back, the soulless can suffocate on their own hate, the soulless will see their own end. peace is not possible with the soulless and evil.  no controlling the peacemakers, nothing holding us back.

Romans 12:18. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

Never Ending Interruption

.another rude awakening.
.like a never ending interruption.
.the broken peace of sleep.
.on to the trivial.
.on to first impressions.
.on to making it.
.perceptions of achievements.
.most valuable something.
.a singular opportunity.
.invisible and loud.
.for rational purposes.
.nobody pays attention anyway.
.thought therapy.
.dream rewinds.
.a jingle all the way.

Doctor Superstar

isolation mechanism.
alone in art.
abstract realism.
leave a mark.

high class hedonism.
fighting in malls.
love that consumerism.
deck the halls.

(chorus)
he was rolling in the cash.
doctors made her beauty last.
they weren't ready for the crash.
and it all came down.

constant criticism.
not what they like.
all kinds of reasons.
we're doing it right.

tell me bout your expertise.
why you're so smart.
probably got your phd.
doctor superstar.

ddgcx2
gdx3
cccg

Sweet Truth

emd7emam

dust up some more rain,
make the trees shake and tilt.
knock all the sticks down,
the cycle of life complete.

oblivious and clueless,
not wanting to know.
ignorance meets apathy,
no point in making a point.

listen to the experienced,
ask for more insight.
thoughtful solutions are arrived at,
sound and lasting.

purity of the sweet truth,
the consideration of what is.
the ramifications of reality,
no advocate to blame.

Perfectly Cool

reactions to the irritations.

wake up and loosen up the limbs.
feed the body fruits.
feed the mind as well.
let the soul translate the word.

reading is extremely important.
certainly more important than books.
comforts and rituals are secondary.
mysterious effects of reading.

the senses now functioning.
fall winds blowing everything around.
stripping the trees clean.
less cover for the people.
perfectly cool.

consideration and defiance.
just be nice.

personalities are exhausting.
like makeup of a woman's face.
or the image of perfection and constant happiness.
away with all that for now.

look how you look.
say what you say.
rational questions and no toes to step on.
be difficult to annoy and offend.

you are here right now.
respect that.
lectures are for the ignorant.
the young need restraint.
moderation of reactions.

like everything else.

Gamma Ray Delta Graphs

through the brown trees we drive.
hills and the smell of old.
these New England country towns are established.
the airport communications worked.
a van with room.
follow the signs and trust the navigator.
have a familiar lunch.
patriots and cowboys are much the same.
clean suites and a bar tip.
new castle brown is always good.
mind lapses and returns.
the morning introductions.
pens, and go carts, and degrees, and hunting.
refugee thanksgiving, music, and Jerry Sloan.
flexible agenda.
consistency of adaptability above all else.
death avoidance and evolution.
in the weeds.
multiple courses of food.
the fishbone of a trading life.
and a visit from the brass.
technological advances and enhancements.
a wish list.
table for 8 and goodfellas vibe.
rare to get a steak cooked correctly.
the red.
Paris is on the attack.
evil is the cause of all human misery.
and evil is of the devil.
let's get this point straight.
facial observations and elevator noises.
the decaf is worthless.
the windows are completely frosted.
the citrus farmer and the ice scraper.
get your steps in.
a team of teams.
acting within a matrix.
these errors must stop.
the millennial meltdown.
and the rise of the glowfacers.
sell them out at a good price.
before it becomes risky.
case by case case studies.
and gamma ray delta graphs.
communication plans and proposals.
approvals and agreements.
get your sack and go.
front desk excellence.
shuttle puppies and terminal drop offs.
the Ivy League girls basketball team in the back.
coach watching game film from Boston to Dallas.
good luck against mcneese state.
just wear your opponent out.
move them side to side.
make them lean.
the early waiters.
the laughs of the hopeful and eager.
perfect shuttle timing.
and a silent ride north.

Peace Creators

evil ain't got a seat
no, evil ain't got a seat
no room at the table of the peace creators.
naw, evil ain't got a seat

For All The French

...when we yell MAHUT! to begin King of the Court 6 later this morning, we will yell it for all the French.  We will scream it with rage and fury, demanding peace.  This seemingly eternal conflict does have an end.  Peace does await.  The longest tennis match in history, between Nicolas Mahut of France and the American John Isner at Wimbledon in the summer of 2010, ended with each emerging legends.  To battle is to move.  To resist is to attack.  Peace comes only when the match is over.  Keep your feet moving forward, go for the low part of the net, let your opponent lose...prayers for Parisians today...Mahut!!!

Stevie Wonder Show

ace
fcg
ace
fcg

now's the time to make up your mind and go.  just go.
it's true for sure there is no cure we know.  don't we know.

keep the peace as we try to reach the end.  the bitter end.
all the tears and all the years pretend.  just pretend.

who's the guy that looked in your eyes and said.  yeah I said.
here's the deal I'll love you til I'm dead.  til I'm dead.

end of summer at a stevie wonder show.  what a show.
under the trees the nighttime breeze the glow.  oh the glow.

Gratuities Included

.word speaks louder than actions.
.aint it true brothers and sisters.
.the bitter fool isn't good company.
.visits of obligation are worthless.
.such easy prey.
.our exhausted bodies and minds.
.holy molys and exclamation points.
.like some sort of business deal.
.this for that.
.but that is already given.
.prepaid, gratuities included.

Modern Illusionists

locked in the same reality.
nothing has changed.
crats of all kinds.
even the ludicrats.

they are the most same of all.

modern illusionists.
and bleeping people.
awakened finally.
finally and forever.

Crickets

crickets.
frightening sounds.
invasions and piles.
black hoppers.
black hoppers.
the odor of crickets.

crickets.
looked down the hall.
too early for empty nest blues.
echoes of machines.
echoes of machines.
the clicks.

crickets.
hazardous for lead singers.
poor Peggy Sue.
from Buddy to Box.
from Buddy to Box.
that'll be the day.

crickets.
the sound of nothing.
an afterthought.
instigator of action.
instigator of action.
nothing else.

amgx3
d7gx3

Rainout Beers

     like cats it came down.  the October rain was relentless and loud as we sat on the two rows patio in Allen, Texas.  no tennis this night, just some rainout beers with keck and billy vita.  just as well.  we were all in some state of chaos, confusion, or discernment.  keck and his recent brush with tennis humility.  max King had destroyed him.  6-1, 6-0 old style scoring method.  his credentials were discovered only later and included professional status and bent tree certifications.  keck was talking about this guy's game, just better and smarter.  and he was older.  max King was 55, keck estimated.  always pushing forward, always putting shots away at the net.  and spin, and drop shots, and extreme angles.  his was not a game we knew.  and we knew.  keck promised to start working on his net game and asked billy and I for our best pointers.  somehow, I had been blessed with quick feet and soft hands.  once I learned to take a final hop and set myself before my opponent hit an attempt at a passing shot, net play had come easy.  the punch, developed early, and constant forward play only enhanced my ability to win matches.  the kramarian approach, as I've only since discovered.  my advice to keck was just that.  mainly, encouragement was what he needed. being on the losing side of our last mahut, the spur mahut, must have been on his mind as well.  the rainout likely saved me from a wrath.  a keck tennis wrath.  I was happy we were drinking rainout beers instead.  the patio was nice and dry.  the air was cool, but muggy.  the beer menu included Tupps northbound 75, but they were out.  inquiring further, the nice young, smiling, waitress mentioned something about updating the beer menu on which Tupps would not be included.  offended slightly, I politely ordered a dos xx because it was Mexican night.  This was the wednesday before hurricane patricia had everyone worrying and praying for the mexicans and non-mexicans on the mexican west coast.  a dos xx seemed appropriate.  was more offended when she asked me if I knew of tupps, "a little brewery in mckinney."   keck loudly mentioned the sticker on his car.  I said something about swaying California brown and iron art.  where is the loyalty?  updating your beer menu?  from then on, I ordered what keck ordered.  it was all good.  and the waitress was forgiven, especially after she informed us she was not of drinking age, she had never been to Tupps.  she had never seen Chris day's iron.  she had never tasted the black.  delicious.
     Billy's net game advice was more in depth.  I learned a lot sitting at that table.  always go for the center of the net.  the odds are greater.  the angles much better.  and the deep approach of course.  middle, side, either way, just keep the approach deep. he explained in detail the lead up to the hop skip.  his instruction-filled mind and knowledge of the game was apparent.  he had spent time in a classroom, learning from the tennis masters of Philadelphia.  he had learned the game at another level.  he has wisdom to impart.  he watches the tennis channel all day long as he takes conference calls and strings racquets.  cutting edge in everything, especially new technologies.  he is our coach.  but, he had more important and relevant matters on his mind.  his mother-in -law, Bernadette, was in poor health, lung cancer, and her passing, and likely continuing, seemed near.  prayer for the Irish Bernadette, and her family, especially sweet Mary.  lord, be with her.  billy vaped and drank and detailed for keck a net game strategy.  this temporary diversion was healthy for him, knowing the stoicism to come.  obliged or compelled, all will know.
     my own tennis humility came just a week prior.  at the racquet of billy himself.  I had played well and it didn't matter.  billy broke through.  we had at least 40 deuces in our 20 game mahut.  it went on and on. in the end, billy won more important points and left me trounced, 7-13.  some proactive coaching advice from earlier in the day had me thinking about the psychology of it all.  it is a dangerous place to lurk, but it is required to keep up with the likes of billy vita or his brother Joe or keck or Frank Friday or any tennis royal from the past.  perhaps even one day, max King.  point to point, hour to hour, day to day, year to year.  time will stop if we let it.  it will go away, and shall.  his return of serve has made obvious improvement and his serve is a controlled weapon. his advice was appreciated as KOtC6 was only a month out.  playing as a royal will be new.  this could be it unless I can win again.  perhaps Duke is a possibility this time.  the field may have thinned out.  the likes of King stone, King the Todd, and King james are missing due to other conflicts, some USTA sectional type of sanctification.  and, in King James' case, a road trip to see the once-promising cowboys play the buccaneers in Tampa.  King the Todd sent his brother Marty in his stead, a friend to the Isner methodology and culture. Serving as teammate and coordinator and coach of the Blowfish, we teamed up earlier in the year, along with King the Todd and others, to claim the revered fries cup.  Prince fess is a definite threat to all and everything, he is a determined fighter and hater of evil.  an Earl to Duke ascention would be noteworthy, but it will take big game.  and billy vita wants the Duke.
     all who participated in kotc4 remember last November.  all were witness.  the sad sight of keck worrying about the rain and the dry 5 hour window that followed.  Huffman, driving in from grapevine hardly able to see, having faith in tennis.  Vito, Roy, Berco, Fosters, a Dane and Luu too.  many are chasing royalty, but only four will emerge, all led by the King Of The Court.  don't expect rainout beers, there is no cancellation plan.  the beers wait for after.  At Tupps, of course.  A little brewery in McKinney.  Mahut!!!

Spork

got a salad and some soup.
wondering what to do.
all I really need is a spork.

morning, noon, or night.
wrapped and sanitized.
yes I do, yes I love a spork.

you might call me a dork.
but I love a spork.
yes I do, yes I love a spork.

c
f
gfc

Spicy Jambalaya

cg
fc
fcgc
gc

got more air in my hair, oh no.
got more air in my hair, good god.
now I don't care about my hair
wake up happy just to be here.
more air in my hair, alright.

hot tubs are required all the time.
hot tubs are required to clear my mind.
powerful jets to loosen my neck.
keep it going even though I'm a wreck.
hot tubs are required alright.

the yawning starts about 10 o'clock, don't you know.
the yawning starts about 10 o'clock, yaaaawwn.
if I get still, let's be real.
grab a blanket cause I got the chills.
yawning starts about 10 o'clock, alright.

that spicy jambalaya takes me down, it sucks.
that spicy jambalaya takes me down, can't eat it.
fires in my belly, can't hold it steady.
to eat it again would be just silly.
spicy jambalaya takes me down, alright.

Same Old Road

...the sky seems different now
see the dust smell the clouds...

...all the stars getting through
far away ones we never knew...

...caught up in the Milky Way
out there in the center of space...

...constellations never named
they were there just the same...

...seen at night a long time ago
walking down the same old road...

Standing Where Buzzards Fly

...bank robbers and oil barons...standing where buzzards fly...the first hill was tough...the second peak must be climbed too...pay it forward with barbque...varieties of dunkels and Colorado bulldogs.. this place could make it...real buffalo herds and gypsum rock everywhere...the deer skinning was shocking...quartered up and put on ice...tamales and jalepeno beans...pumpkin shots...twenty dollar buy in went quick...heartbreak ridge...weird white people in mad max...cot sleeping...forehand was unstoppable...signed the trophy with permanent black ink...throwing footballs through the trees...the kraut and the chops...the okies left Dallas crying again...heavy metal afternoon...that cross bow is easy...pull it all the way back...one big night...chess is out...leave the dishes in the sink...these cards have gone cold...

A Sensible Design

...gift of the senses.

before feeling, things were never felt.
things should be felt, so we feel.

before seeing, colors were wasted.
colors should not be wasted, so we see.

before tasting, eating was a bore.
eating should not be a bore, so we taste.

before smelling, scoundrels could not be sniffed out.
scoundrels should be sniffed out, so we smell.

before hearing, all the valleys were silent.
valleys should not be silent, so we hear.

...a sensible design.

Just Before The Thinking Starts

on the other side of the horizon, just before the thinking starts.
when we're still dreaming and the cares of this world are gone.

this place is quiet.
holding on to night.
then it disappears.
the night, it disappears.

the stars are only invisible my babes, they still guide the day.
more time for living and loving, until time just goes away.

CG
FC

FC
FC
GFC

This Spacefolk Music Floats

**from the notebooks of the men from nantucket, paul gorman and mark ball**

the journey, this float, never lasts forever.  eventually, we will reach land.  before we reach land, however, we will see the land.   on the horizon, in the distance, clear as a blood red moon.  seen with telescopes and high powered binoculars.  home is free.  we might encounter resistance, but we will land on the land.  and so it is with the men from nantucket.  as we have done all along--searching, finding, landing, only to do it over again.  until one day, when we sink the boats.  we see the land clearly now, our visions not the same as before, but better, because they are now real.  and this reality may be warped, as all realities are warped says steinbeck, but it is the reality of the men from nantucket.

these are the final musical preparations as we enter the harbor, before we hit the dock.  the adjustments to the final drafts of the men from nantucket greatest hits volume one:

*as a general statement the vocals should be undoubled...should echo, reverb, delay.  not too much. but that is the vocal effect needed.  the doubling brings it down.  this spacefolk music floats.

*another general statement on volume in the mixes.  vocal and lead tracks should be at the same level.  the rhythm track should be diminished even though it carries the bottom.  being spacefolk, the bottom is less important.  the rhythm track should be there clearly, in the middle.  lead guitar parts need to be especially louder in nonvocal space.  this spacefolk music is loud.

*the bass guitar instrument will not be on men from nantucket greatest hits volume one. our bad idea to force it from the start.  specific feedback regarding .in this jar. and .novocaine. will elude to this.  this spacefolk music goes high, not low.

*specific feedback regarding novocaine:  this song is being removed from the final record.  men from nantucket greatest hits volume one will be a 9 song record.  it could reemerge down the road as a waltz, but it is canned for now.  the whole boat must have been sea sick, gets rough out in the ocean.  we tossed it the bermuda triangle as we were taking a shortcut back home.  this spacefolk music is already numb.

*removal of some percussion tracks.  The final refinement of these songs, and of us preparing to dock, is to gather up the unneeded cargo and toss it overboard.  some of the beats and bangs belong back to the ocean, keeping only enough to perfectly add distinction and motion as we glide in.  the need for percussive acceleration is diminished in space.  this spacefolk music bangs in the back.



hopefully, these general notes are helpful as the final versions of each song are mixed and mastered.  below, each song is considered separately with more specific deletions, adjustments, and refinements.  these notes are based on what we heard on the final drafts, and after the men from nantucket met in the hull a few nights ago to decide the final course.  also, this is the order of the songs on the album:

1.  At The Rio Blanco.
...the above mentioned vocal and volume adjustments.  especially more lead volume during non vocal space.  also, all percussions are deleted.

2.  Okie 69.  
...the above mentioned vocal and volume adjustments.  also, all percussions are deleted.

3.  Two Tone  Ride.
...the above mentioned vocal and volume adjustments.  percussions remain on this song but should be more in the background.  also, the percussive guitar through the song is very cool.  very nantucket, but from 3:20 to 3:44, remove completely and crank the organ lead.  love this song.

4.  Hounds And Babes.
...the above mentioned vocal and volume adjustments.  removal of percussions.

5.  Hog Killing Weather.
...the above vocal and volume adjustments.  keep the percussion as is.  sounds like sounds of hog killing time.  my grandmother would have been proud.

6.  Quakes Like That.
...the above vocal and volume adjustments.  removal of percussions.

7.  Turbulence.
...the above vocal and volume adjustments.  Keep percussions, slightly diminished.

8.  In This Jar.
...the above vocal and volume adjustments.  removal of bass and percussions.

9.  Sink The Boats.
...love this.  the above vocal and volume adjustments.  percussions diminished, but kept.  love the fact it's a long song.  need a fade out ending.  being the final song we leave the distinct impression that the men from nantucket play on, despite the end of the record.  please keep as much length as possible as it fades.  also, the dialogue part starts with 'look in my eyes'.

All Caught Up In Moods And Vibes

...when all the moods are in alignment...
...each helping the other and understanding...
...it is the same with circles of association too...
...different individuals together for some reason...
...each with their own mood balance to consider...
...a family, a team, a class, a gang, a band, a congregation...
...each individual associated with all the others...
...although an actual relationship may not exist...
...or broken with the feelings being mutual...
...somewhere in between sadness and acceptance...
...anger and frustration are horrible and dark...
...predictable actions followed by predictable regret...
...righteous wrath is not anything we can deliver...
...our wrath is inspired by resentment, envy, and insecurity...
...get back to our place and understand our fate...
...these blinks of years will pass as our eyes melt away...
...sunrises and sunsets are stacking up in a glorious tower...
...the ride is in full motion and we are holding on...
...our souls captured here for now...
...associations and relations are riding too...
...all caught up in moods and vibes...

Like Faith In The Stars

.the peace is somewhere near.
.always close at hand.
.a flash and a moment can make it go.
.but it is ours specifically.

.understanding is not possible.
.explaining is worthless.
.it will come back again.

.like faith in the stars.
.so it is with peace.

Try All The Brews

cam
amg

stack up the glasses to the side,
we gotta get through.

wanna try every wine they got,
then try the all the brews.

amc
amg
cam
gc

best liquid ever been made,
from the best ever grown.
ended up this close to my lips,
now drinking it all alone.

words that show the truth,
no matter what is thought.

anchor of our future hope,
no matter what is bought.

and when you take that final draw,
tasting every drop.

know that we were glory bound
since they hung him on the cross.

Ingredients Of Life

the fear of what when why how and where.
this thing at the end.
absent of time and eras and history even.
visions are known.

rational as any other story.
the particulars occupy our minds.
our little incredible minds.
made from something for a reason.

made from nothing at all.
voids aren't voids for long.
they will be filled.
the more interesting the better.

this far away place includes here.
right here.
which cannot be denied.
our common reality of now.

not the place we understand.
theories will be concocted.
and believed.
the seemingly smart are good convincers.

living in this bubble.
with the source having the ingredients of life.
as an experiment.
to see what happens.
millions upon gazillions of other bubbles exist.
forever expanding space and everlasting life is ignored.
and we are left as dust.

no mention of soul.
which is inexplicable.
what of love?
perhaps, we really are the aliens.

This Supernatural Trait

.broken, broken people.
.we are a mighty union.
.what we have to say is truth.
.and it is most definitely not from us.

.anyone conventionally conceived and born on this earth has been, and is, mortal.  every one.  envy, pride, ego are apparent from when humans began recording the events going on around them.  you don't have to believe Cain and Abel to believe a similar story as true.  these are human themes, repeated and repeated.  look around us now.  grudges, unable to disappear.  memories, of being done wrong.  anxiety and agitation.  tapping and going.  got to live up so we can die right.  fade into our imaginary heaven.  immortal, finally.  this is pie in the sky.  this is ludicrous.  the top of the charts gets in!  only the fine survive.  but no one is fine.  completely and undoubtably without any indiscretion or fault.  impossible to believe.  of the conventionally born.  this being true, that we are mortal, why are we afraid to die. other animals are not.  there could be some terror for them, say, at hog killing time, but prolonged fear of death is absent.  discomfort. illness, and moods are involved, but fear of death is not apparent.  we are separate in that way.  we meaning the human species.  referred to as our souls by many.  this supernatural trait.  and souls want to live forever.  immortal.  and will, one way or another.  my soul brothers and my soul sisters, look up at them stars at night.  see creation all around.  look past the old and dying.  they are there.

Webb Hill

from Dallas to Kansas City.
you can take any hill for yourself Mr. Webb.
be careful though.

Indians and stinging bugs that'll
make your eyelids swell up.

the highest point in a four county radius.
geography changes very, very slowly.
another world, really.

Juice For The Glow

the lights and electricity.
it's all we need.
juice for the glow.
tin pans and swillers.
steampunk is tomorrow.
this is a rio blanco crowd.

the room was full of echoes and noises.  everyone swayed and time was forgotten.  the northbound 75, the black, and the made in the texas shade.  delicious once again.  our reality, separate from other realities, was realized.  it was not easy.  the forces of our personalities and nature, as Steinbeck wrote, warps this reality.  and it is fine.

no need to apologize.
these are known things.
each note matters.
every single one.
the good, the bad.
the ugly, the great.

Dog With Fleas

on my own faith I went.
or delusion.
wanted it so bad.
unfulfilled, as always.
only quick looks and glances.
they don't ever look back.
they are there always and eternally.
seek and you will find.
the word is true.
it is some good news.
keep working.
and singing and dancing.
another day might come.
faith will work.
if you let it in.
for it cannot be made by us.
accepted and groomed.
anything else is just a dog with fleas.

The Tennis Underground (draft)

     in memory of a memorable tennis player.  evidently this Fries guy was quiet a fellow.  his unexpected passing from cancer in his latish forties was a cruel demonstration of the devil's work.  many, if not everybody, at the event had been impacted personally by this killer.  the fight continues.  and there is victory on both sides, this battleground of our lives.  the war was won long ago.  the destruction and decay we see daily is sour grapes.  the builders keep building.  the encouragers keep encouraging.  the war is won.
     tennis folks were all around.  this academy in frisco.  passed right by, it so perfectly compliments the neighborhood.  a tight fit, no chance for indoor courts now.  just play in the mist and train in the rain.  many prodigies.  drills and drills and drills.  didn't see a backboard, but surely there is one.  a small pool, a boutique, rooms of cardio, rooms of weights.  places for private talks, a large entertainment room, flat screens playing u.s. open reruns.  Serena smashing forehands, then later Novak sliding on the hard court.  his ankles will hurt when he gets old.
     the arrival was a flurry, knowing no one and getting familiar with the place.  walked around like I belonged.  checked in at the registration table, staffed with smiling young ladies scribbling check marks on stapled pages and offering each player an appreciation gift.  Payment was made and change back was refused, give it to the pink fight.  color coordinated teams were all around, which allowed me the opportunity to seek out and introduce myself to the grey wearing blowfish team.  each of them was nice and courteous.  I quickly checked in with Marty Feldman, older brother of King The Todd, and obvious instigator and insurer of this event.  he was everywhere, carrying bottles of water, behind the scenes, helpful.  The Todd is known by all, even though this is not his home club.  Said hey to Huffman, a King division player in KOtC.  Prince Fess was spotted playing for another team.  He was a title sponsor, complete with a sign on the showcase court.  He knew this Fries guy, as did a few others I spoke with.  an endearing and chatty player, 'not in a bad way, but a funny way, always making little comments.'  His death was a shock just the year before.  Quick and unforgiving.  Esophagus.  A huge poster was displayed that accommodated many pink tennis ball stickers full of written prayers and names of loved ones that have battled.  and all battled successfully.  For to battle is to win.  Everlasting life is as good as it seems.
     The format was 4.0 doubles for me.  Three 8 game prosets, no ad.  Each with a different grey shirt partner.  First match, played with Blake, a member and a very solid player.  A huge backhand and solid serve.  Tall and smooth, and consitent.  Later, he lamented his 'bad knees' and I sensed that as a younger player he was an ace.  Easy going and friendly, we got along right away.  We won our first match 8-2.  Next, I was paired with David.  A player with no second serve, which I admired greatly.  first serves only.  blast after blast after blast.  he was very competitive and focused.  Although we both waited over two hours for our match, we defeated our opponents 8-5 in a highly contested match.  Finally, late in the afternoon, teamed up with Rich to defeat a father son duo in red 8-6.  A the young one, 18 or so, seemed put out to be there.  He was easily frustrated, but evidence of a once emerging game was apparent.  his dad later confided, over beers, that his frustrations could have been due to the realization of lost dreams.  Rich was a solid player and fine fellow.  a bit older, sporting ray bans, and a money return of serve on the for forehand side.  Going 3-0 in my matches left me feeling like I pulled my weight for the blowfish team.  Finding out later that our team won the Fries Cup when all the #'s were counted made me even more satisfied.  winning is always better than losing.  points, games, prosets, mahuts, royal titles.  the Earl of Nantucket is on a roll.  it will end, as it does for everyone.  Nadal knows.  McEnroe too, although he is still destroying the likes of Courier, Chang, and James Blake.  But, Roddick still has his number.  Along
with Isner, he is our only post- Sampras American tennis hero.  the 2002 u.s. open was important to Americans for obvious reasons.  Roddick showed up!
   throughout the day, on the court and on the large porch containing all the idle players, I was asked about where I played out of or which club I was from.  I was searching for appropriate answers all day.  joining a place never occurred to me.  I have opponents at the ready.  they are in my glowphone.  courts are plentiful and accommodating day or night.  KOtC is established and played twice a year.  Keck and i have Wednesday on the schedule.  Bill Vita same thing with Saturday morning.  Periodic Joe Vita mahuts.  T-Roy.  Bobby.  I stammered and searched for responses.  "I don't really play out of anywhere" to "play around town here and there" to "with some dudes" to "eagles landing" to "public tennis" to " I used to belong to eldorado" to "I might join eldorado" to "the tennis underground", which I stuck with.  the idle time inevitable when 150 players show up to fight the hated cancer, led to significant socializing and drinking time.  I met many fine people.  Bill, who stretched out a wobbly knee with huge leg kicks.  Gil, the old man of our father/son duo, who was in a similar business and knew the forts of mckinney.  another dude, who told me the story of Doug Fries.  He had tears in his eyes.  Everyone was nice.  Even the SMU tennis team was nice, despite sitting at the same table looking like hired assassins early on.  they loosened up and were scattered throughout the draw, playing for different teams.  they put on a show.  one got hit right in the kisser.  yes, that kisser. layer on the court for a few minutes, withering in pain.  there was a large crowd gathered.  the oooohhs, the laughs, the awwwws.  he was a good sport and waved to the crowd as he limped to the changeover bench.  the mustangs have a chance to make some noise this year.  poise, empathy, and the look of winners.  other former college players were there.  they reminded everyone of our place.  there is another level and another and another after that.  for now, we play tennis.  Mahut!!
   



   

Atmosphere

.desperately and without reservation.
.water will find its way to calm.
.settle into the low lands.

.the streams spill out constantly.
.temporary carriers of anything, really.
.the rush never ends.

.evaporation is the enemy.
.sucked up into the atmosphere.
.to fall again and again.

.all this for peace and stillness.
.or to be frozen til the globe warms.
.water is life for sure.

.the tides are pulled by the moon.
.shaking and roiling the oceans.
.lighting the way to land.

Stoic Lips

in many ways it is completely absurd.  the idea that we can do nothing more than what's been done.  mothers and fathers have no idea.  the minds of humans.  our intervention, our counsel, our stoic lips.

Sugar, Sugar

c
f
c
g

place your hand upon my heart.
feel it beat for love and art.
sing a song before you go.
make it spacey, make it slow.

now consider why you're here.
why you see the end so clear.
why you have unending hope.
why you have to leave your notes.

f
c
f
g

sugar, sugar
you know I love you.
sugar, sugar
yeah, yeah

try again to tell me how.
to see the faces in the clouds.
talk for awhile after the show
make it spacey, make it slow.

words followed by silent stares.
lights were lit, souls were bared.
most beautiful thing I ever seen.
all I want, you're all I need.

Into The Airless Night

.it must be the speed of our travel that makes us age.
.with every rotation the inertia is relentless.
.without gravity or weight we would be thrown away.

.into the airless night beyond where our eyes can view.

.imaginations are not sufficient to describe the unseen.
.our creature nature is only a temporary albatross.
.limitations of the primitive body and narrow mind.

Perfectly Placed

.it is as awful as they say...as we think...there is no easy way...just as they are forced...yanked...pulled...they must be freed...the snaps...the chisels...the resistant counter weight...perfectly placed...jawlines and pearls.

Green Masks

...who knew of all this equipment...
...all the wires and bags of clear solution...

...hooked up and taped tight...
...drips are dripping smoothly...

...before the cup of pills while the nerves are lit...
...the final shot takes the lids down...

...sanitize everything twice...
...bring the doctors in one by one...

...green masks and pocket protectors...
...clean waiting rooms and magazines...

...award winning health associates...
...elaborate uses of colors and glass...

...gyro lunch specials by the greeks...
...the sisters covering for each other...

...automated updates and private consultations...
...political commentators pass the time...

...trump wants to be the king or queen maker...
...wants to make sure he is in position for the payoff...

...the good hands and robots are in control...
...flat screens tell the story and buzz constantly...

Middle Of The Sea

.like what a nebula might sound like.
.slow revealing and undeniable.
.eventually taking full form and echoing.

.behind is the chunka chunka chunka.
.just walking along in the song.
.voices were wide and could be wider still.

.structure is maintained and respected.
.and a constant and true beacon lurks.
.always there. always around. always.

.onward to the middle of the sea.
.where the calm is at it's most calm.
.where confusion and worry are lost.

Two Phenomenons Collide

...captured a moment in time...
...at the time a trader...
...the market went pop...
...the possibilities immediately recognized...
...then the tears...
...no, not jerry...
...the original spacefolk music...
...all things musical...
...the tour had ended...
...just in time...
...two phenomenons collide...
...dead ain't bout tie die and body odor...
...or looking like the band...
...it's close your eyes sounds...
...free and easy and perpetual...
...like the internet...

Translated

right here and right now is primary.
only parts of yesterday are remembered.
the good parts should not be forgotten.
peace with each breath.
labors are far away.
the future is a wonder.
beginning with the end in mind.
each day is like this.
convince once again.
convict over and over.
spontaneous impulses of action.
or inaction.
these things are decided quickly.
and are usually easy decisions.
mind over body is a good thing.
soul over the mind.
word over the soul.
translated by God Himself.

Crow Springs

.all at a moderate pace.
.thirsty boat people with squinting eyes.
.families all around, camped for days.
.the island is back.

.dodge the tops of cottonwood trees.
.the cliff houses are grand and full of activity.
.docks are floating everywhere.
.the water always arrives, eventually.

.dust will turn to mud.
.an oasis known as crow springs.
.humans have gathered there for millennia.
.keep out of the dugout.
.it is merely a replica of the original.
.two hundred yards south from here.
.only ruins now.

.glide across the glassy water.
.on a quiet friday afternoon.

.wouldn't be doing this at home.

.bodies are older and tireder.
.spirits are strong.
.politicians are not trusted.

.even preparations won't matter.
.returning to before is impossible.

.forward is the only way.

Liquor Store Jesus

cg
fc

.outside of Haskell, near the Knox county line.
.tank was getting empty, had a worried mind.
.neon sign in the distance, my faith was restored.
.thank you lord Jesus, for that liquor store.

.pump was old and rusty, all the levers were shot.
.had to pay up inside before you could pump a drop.
.got some jerky and some seeds, helps me drive through the night.
.as I walked out the door, I saw a beautiful sight.

f
c
g
fgc

liquor store Jesus.
taped on the door.
liquor store Jesus.
saved me once more.

.getting my gas after I paid, a woman stood near the other pump.
.had long tan legs, and curves, and a perfect, heart shaped rump.
.made contact with her baby blues, blue as the ocean waves.
.oh Jesus help me once again, you know exactly what I crave.

.forgot to get a lighter forgot the case of Mexican beer..
.locked up my el camino, get it while I'm here.
.in line behind a man with his nightly u light.
.been plowing earth all day long, drinks with Jesus at night.

.then appeared through the door the woman from before.
.came back to buy some cigarettes and cool off in the store.
.she asked me for a light, I eagerly complied.
.took out my new purchased lighter and lit her up just right.

.she offered me a smile, she took me by the hand a squeezed it tight.
.'thank you mister' is what she said, 'I'm all alone tonight.'
.didn't believe what I was hearing, didn't know what to do.
.saw liquor store Jesus, then I knew.

Midnight In West Texas

in all seriousness, a new perspective.
these shadows in the air.
uninvolved with possible outcomes.
obsessed with the routine.
obsessed with the truth.
obsessed with light.
a moment of nothing at all.
the rarest state of being.
we are not thought about by others.
only fleeting remembrances.
fondness or disgust.
spend all you got.
then line up at the nearest national bank.
money is madness.
these stories are all over.
a means to this life's end.
legacy folks and names of buildings.
the lake is full is the word.
predicted calmly and quietly all along.
midnight in west texas.

The Thrills Are Too Short

..all kindsa things found on the shelves..
..twenty dollars and a transfixed mind..
..bland comments and quotes of others..
..all over this land crazy folks are breaking out..
..helping others with accusations and calls..
..the heat was baking the grounds and lawns..
..dull blades and late afternoon petrol emergencies..
..depleted and worn from pouring sweat and blood..
..the cake place with offers of decorations..
..glorified Hollywood bakers with a good thing going..
..west nile festering in the lower wet lands..
..chemicals in the air and spraying mists of poison..
..the dizzies and the woozy equilibriums of haze..
..perfect landing from the old jumping bridge..
..harp player thinking the thrills are too short..
..muscle stretching throughout the evening..
..fear the achillies tendon and don't break the back..

Turbulence: Nantucket Sessions

Turbulence.Raw Skeleton Tracks.7.12.15.leprechaun studios.weston,tx. from paul gorman on Vimeo.

The Earl Of Nantucket

those days are remembered well.
praying the rain would stop.
school was out of the question.

paper plate super server award.
brown collegiate brick walls.
then the magic rug was pulled out.

inside the loop with wild characters.
dust storm finals and windburned lips.
continued throughout time in the west.

the good life of club sandwiches and lights.
backboard on the back court, no one around.
any degree was fine, with the pool cool down.

the days of lions and letters.
temper tantrums and destroyed equipment.
triumphant and humbled every week.

the latest and the greatest things of now.
whatever it took to play to midnight.
junebugs and mosquitos continue the fight.

the ladies arrived with eyes and legs.
respectable newspaper clippings and notes.
glory limited by limitations and priorities.

decorated to a reasonable degree.
understood a future on the links.
intermittent matches with aging bores.

the babies and the jobs and the dead flowers.
no time for rallies and volleys.
the classics, Hemingway and Kerouac.

the evening nights by the Goodyear.
fence clanks and commitments.
terminology and pong.

literary documentation and kaizen.
superior methods of thought and execution.
macho burger, the prison workout, and lights out.

the epic war lasted for days.
at 70 it finally ended, both wrecked.
inspiration of the ages.

baseline dirt and cleanly mowed grass.
dignitaries all around and fidgeting.
the traditional white of the men and women.

this place is full of green grace.
jackets and hats of the highest quality.
the Earl of Nantucket is arriving.

Thirsty For The Throne

     

     Considering the KOtC5 draw, I immediately plotted my path to royalty.  The Earl, the common royal, seemed my only potential place.  Only 2 years ago, during the first KOtC, I was firmly in the thick of things for the Prince title.  Then the famous Leo Escario, the marathon runner, proud son of The Philippines, and owner of a permanent smile, outlasted me for the first KOtC Prince title in what I thought was going to be my last mahut on earth.  It was hot.  Death was at my doorstep.  My family was watching and the air was dizzy.  Heat exhaustion, hell, heat stroke, seemed inevitable.  Really, it would’ve been a good way to go, but our good God kept me around.  That was my chance and Leo slammed the gate, pulled up the bridge from the mote, and lifted the Prince prize.  Since then, its’ been a series of defeats, disappointments, a Frank Friday destruction of the KOtC establishment, and a back spasm roddick in KOtC3.  Only an 8-2 mahut win over Keck in KOtC4 serves as a highlight.  King James has gone royal, King The Todd of course, Keck and Joe have tasted the Duke title.  With Huffman, a tireless tennis warrior, Prince Coronado, a trendy pick for King, and Dayton Hancock, an Eagle returning to his tennis nest after college tuning, my morning draw is loaded and clearly the Earl is my most likely path to royal.   

     The quality of the overall KOtC field has continued to improve tournament after tournament.  Even now, even with the absence of King The Todd and the internationally famous J.D. Miles, we begin with the finest KOtC field ever.  There is King James, the dignified 2-time King who is always thirsty for the throne.  The possible return of JET to the Mavericks has him especially motivated.  His acceptance of Dirk’s new role as 6^th man ushers in a new hope.  Hope for things to come.  The hopeful King.  He’ll have to play well early and avoid his notorious loose starts to put himself in position for the afternoon.  His morning draw is loaded with dangerous players.  Joe Vita is no joke.  He is back from Hawaii.  He is tan and rested.  He is the face of KOtC and always a threat.  This Jonathan Wraith person is a huge South African.  Tall and lanky, uncoiled rockets for serves.  Like fellow South African Kevin Anderson almost, who just took Novak to the 5 set brink at Wimbledon.  Nice fellow, that Anderson.   Along with King The Todd, Keck and I hung out with him a bit in Houston at the U.S. Clay Court Championships, eventually won by American Jack Sock.  He’s almost too nice to break into the world top 5, or Top 10 even, but he is talented.  Talks with a lisp.  Wraith kinda looks like him.  Rounding out King James’ early draw is Berco Neiman, a first time unknown to Isner tennis culture.  A true X factor.  Despite these obstacles, King James is likely to advance to the King division in the afternoon.  He will have plenty of nutrients and water, his KOtC experience will give him the edge over the newcomers and he just has too much game for Joe. 

    Despite King James’ accomplishments and preparations, first timer Jeremy Stone comes into the tournament as the favorite.  His reputation precedes him.  Machine-like and smart, tireless and deadly, unforgiving and quick, experienced and indestructible.  He should cruise into the afternoon King division.  Word has it that Eli Yaremenko is highly competitive, but probably a better bet for Prince this time around, like Prince Coronado this past Fall.  Frank Friday could derail Stone if some physical altercation breaks out over disputed line calls.  This is unlikely.  Frank’s intimidation tactics are deliberate and he is in control at all times, but perhaps he can bait Stone and pull off a miracle.  We haven’t discussed a fighting policy, but we are big advocates for peace—just for the record.  Flash flooding, tropical storms, and hurricanes will not keep Frank away after over-reacting to weather conditions in KOtC4.  He heard the whispers regarding his roddick and carries a chip.  Too much Delkus, too much USTA.  He’s never attended a KOtC where he did not go royal, claiming Prince in KOtC2 and Earl in KOtC3.  I want no part of Frank Friday.  Current Earl Vito could make a run for Duke or meet me in the afternoon.  He will be tough, but perhaps 6 months of living royal has made him vulnerable.  Maybe there is an opportunity.  Maybe he has rested on his royal butt a little more than normal.  Vito has what I want.  This could get ugly.

     The most intrigue and mystery is reserved for the final morning group.  Nick Pena, another collegiate player and returning Eagle, on his most familiar courts.  If it’s the dude I remember, he was slightly better than Dayton.  But that was years ago.  I remember the Saturday morning doubles match, where Keck and I took them to the edge before eventually losing our mahut 4-6 to the Allen Eagles #1 doubles team.  Coach Quest had sent them down to play Keck and I after their normal workout.  If memory serves, which it doesn’t always these days, Keck had some late serving issues and performed weakly at the net.  It was all his fault.  I believe that’s how it went down.  He smashed an electrical box with his racquet and screamed the loudest F-bomb ever heard.  A few parents of young children came by and voiced their displeasure with his profanity, but he cussed them off the court too, fire in his German eyes.  Like Boris Becker or Stephie Graf or something.  I’ve been leery of him since, but still maintain good relations off the court.  He took it tough, but Dayton and Nick are now college players, almost validating our loss and making it seem more acceptable.  Joining Nick is Chris Fess, of which nothing is known, Duke Keck, and Bill Vita.  Keck’s story is well documented and his royal credentials established in KOtC4.  Billy Vita, bonafide and certified by the Philadelphia School of Italian Tennis Professionals, is the wildcard.  Just recently, he tied his brother, and lifelong superior player, Joe 10-10 in a 20 game mahut.  His game is on the rise, enhanced by Karate-like maneuvers, a new stringer,  and his tremendous knowledge of the game.  In all honesty, I hope he makes it into the Duke division.  If he claimed the Earl, my depression would be complete and prolonged.

     Survival is only temporary.  One day we will all succumb.  For now, we play tennis.  Mahut!!!    

             

Chillin On My Shoe (Draft)

(chorus)
ae
d7aea
x2

chillin on my shoe, got nothing better to do.
all afternoon, just chillin on my shoe.
all the grass is fast and blue, string picking gals and dudes.
Rocky Mountain views, just chilling on my shoe.

(verse1)

song bout looking up to the stars, after a night of hopping through the bars.
with a girl I just happened to meet, smiled at me when I blessed her sneeze.

(verse2)

song bout...

(verse3)

song bout...

(verse4)

song bout...



*collaboration with hunter hezmall.

Dauphin Island Afternoon

...bud smith is the only person I want painting my house...from bayou la batre, where all the gulf fish gets processed...oysters, piles and piles of shells dumped back to build the reef...shrimp, iron boats out for weeks and months...those louisiana boys got it easy...texas and its massive coastline...after katrina, boats were littered everywhere...the water was up to the transformers...even dominic was devastated, and he's one of the big dogs...tugboats are made here too...pulling flat barges on the mississippi...his old woman's boyfriend put a bullet in his spine...he knew of the end...older brother peanut was a rowdy dude...fell over one day when his ticker stopped...younger brother held up a 7-11 with a BB gun...picked up on a warrant a few months later...probably in jail to this day, bud didn't remember....the good times in mobile...zz top and wine and weed...real name was george...but, the cigarettes do the real killing...old smokers always warn the young...now he lives with a rockette...she danced before she had a family...and a woman who sees God...on the other side of the lake are the nice beaches...dauphin island afternoon...