Timeless Clouds

.we got nothing to worry about.
.nothing nothing to worry about.
.times are good and times are bad.
.some days happy some days sad.

.but we got nothing to worry about.
.nothing nothing to worry about.
.all the  blessings we've already had.
.know its over when our minds go mad.

.but we got nothing to worry about.
.nothing nothing to worry about.
.world keeps turning either way.
.another shot at another day.  Maybe.

.we got nothing to worry about.
.nothing nothing to worry about.
.time has its way right here and now.
.fly away through the timeless clouds.

eeae

Well, Anyway

The night never stopped.
Well, anyway.
An aching man wonder boy rambler.
All the people he knew.
All the things that he's done.
Well, anyway.
Constructing guitar backs.
Standing was just too much.
Didn't give it much thought.
They weren't using it.
In fact, they were leaving.
Completely oblivious and uncaring.
Cartoon songs about little animals.
Well, anyway.
Muskrat Spider John Oklahoma Boy songs.
From Alabama.
That explains a lot.
Colorado living is easy and slow.
Wrong harp.
You are not in tune.
Well, anyway.

Radicals

.box of springs.
.the saddest sight ever.
.living in the future with regret.
.a ridiculous state.
.wasting days that haven't arrived.
.time makes us crazy.
.always has.
.the fading is intolerable.
.the what if blues.
.the shoulda.
.the coulda.
.the woulda.
.always a reason for complaints.
.your feedback is welcome.
.and appreciated.
.eating to stay alive.
.happy with a one course meal.
.happy is not the right word.
.grateful.
.relieved.
.another day to live.
.til the radicals show up.
.with scarves and machine guns.
.saying something bout some god.
.paradise of death.
.women as slaves.
.valentine massacre.
.completely vacant of love.

Weird

Weird is a weird, weird word.  Not only the odd e before the i, but it's strange sound too.  Say it five times fast.  Weird, weird, weird, weird, weird.  The forth d can hardly get out and the fifth almost faints to nothing.  Austin, Texas claims the description, which is weird in, and of, itself.  Keep Austin weird we read on shirts, home pages, and commercials.  Which is not weird.  That a city would have a slogan.  Unique by Nature has been all over McKinney water towers and trash cans for years.  And it is true.  'Keep' seems too nostalgic, like the good ole days rut. 'Keep Austin', but the city name is rarely part of the slogan.  This is weird.  The big apple.  Big D, right here inTexas.  L. A., the city of angels, but that's more of a translation.  'Keep Austin Weird'.  I am for it.  Yes.  Almost like a protest.  Like the weirdness is evaporating.  A reminder to act especially weird in Austin.  Which is completely lame.  But that is off topic, this is not about city slogans, or catch phrases, or translations.  Reading between the lines is fruitless.  The word itself.  Weird.  It's meaning, it's definition, it's synonyms.  It is called, proclaimed, labeled, applied, and evoked.  To describe something different, out of the ordinary, another beat on another drum.  Weirdly, the word can end a conversation quickly.  Weird.

Texico Days: Act I

Song #1:  Dented Landscape


The scene is J. T. Barnes' residence in remote West Texas in the weeks after Texas partnered with the Mexicans to defeat the cartels.  This was after Washington's apathy and inaction towards these brutal organizations became unacceptable to the Texans and after Texas declared their independence once again.  The matter was working it's way through the U.S. court system, but Texas was moving forward as a nation regardless.  Present are J.T.'s inner circle, L. Dean Fitzgerald, Elias T. Woods, Mitchell C. Parrish, Maggie Graham, and a three person Mexican contingent led by Mexican Embajador to Texas Fran Del Corona.  The house is built over a cliff and looks out over tremendous valley scenes.  Evidence of oil production, wind mills, and cattle ranching can be seen in the distance.  Most are seated around a large patio table, with J.T walking and pacing and Mitchell standing off to the side, out of the sun, leaning against a wall.  L. Dean emerges from the band after the opening number.  The other band members grab a beer and hang out in the back ground.  They are discussing the recent destruction of the Mexican cartels and what comes next ....

(The Mexican contingent arrives on the patio and the greeting is very jubilant. )

Fran:  Amigos!  And hermoso senorita, of course.  (looking over to the now-standing Maggie)  Please allow me to introduce my friends.  Ernesto Jimenez Ramos, the newly appointed Asistente Embajador to Texas, and Gabriela Baez Avina.  Guess you could say she represents Mexican business interests.  Gabby, that about cover it?

Gabby:    Ahh, yes Fran.  Let's just say, I'm trusted to make some important decisions on behalf of the entire Mexican business community.  Mostly, we want to express our gratitude for our partnership and look to the future with great optimism.  Our priorities seem aligned and a deepening partnership between our countries seems almost inevitable.

L. Dean:  (almost singing) We stand as Texicans, together all along.

Barnes:  Don't get ahead of ourselves L. Dean.

Fran:  (laughing)  El Dean Fitzgerald.  You got it all worked out don't you?

L. Dean:  It's all in the songs folks.  Great to see you Fran.  (a brotherly hug)

Gabby:  Lets make sure we're all singing the same tune.  Ahhh, the famous El Dean Fitzgerald.  Nice to meet you senor.

L Dean:  The pleasure is all mine ma'am.  Yall are just in time for a red Texas sunset.  You dressed for the occasion. (as he feels the red silk scarf draped over her head and around her neck).

Gabby:  Texans, so proud of their setting sun.  Like it never sets anywhere else.

L. Dean:  It's a bad habit, I know.

Gabby:  Pride can be forgiven.  Oh, it is beautiful.  (an extended, silent look to the setting sun by all)  Truth is, we admire your pride.  It is the central trait of true competitors.  And business is competition.

Fran:  Yes, without the Mexican businesses having to pay off the cartels, they'll have more money for expansion, research, and development.  This is where our interests start to either collide or come together.  The Americans have made their feelings known.  They are grateful the cartels are gone, but want to dictate to us.  They are obsessed with their own interests, and have no idea about what to do about you renegade Texans.

Barnes:  What a surprise.  There is nothing to do.  The do has done been done.  We did it.  The Americans never have a plan.  For anything.

L. Dean:  The Texico Plan.

Ernesto:  The Texico Plan?

Elias:  A new way forward.  Or an old way forward, rather.  Sam Houston's plan.  Hell, Santa Anna's plan too.  Texas and Mexico together at last.  In peace, not war.  For the benefit of the people who live in the nation, not for the benefit of the people running the nation.

Mitch:  The Americans have institutionalized bribery.  They call it lobbying and it's a respected profession in Washington D. C.  This for that.  Votes, money, government contracts, its all greased.

Elias:  The primary job of an elected official in America is to get re-elected.

Fran:  The grease doesn't stop within it's own boarders.

Gabby:  That is the truth and a primary reason the Mexican business community seeks new partners.  We don't want to have to pay off the cartels or the Americans.

L.  Dean:  The Texico Plan removes a large source of this American grease.  Legislators and legislative bodies.  This branch of government is a relic in democratic systems of the future.  Technology has removed the need for a representative approach.  The public legislates.  Directly.

Barnes:  L. Dean, save that for later.  Let's make our guests welcome.  Plenty of time to hear you and Elias out.  You know i like it, but the sun is down now, work is over.  Margaritas and Cervezas all around!  We got some steaks cooking and some wild hog too.

Maggie:  Wild hog?

Barnes:  You'll love it girl, a west Texas specialty.  Just the backstraps.  The rest is sausage.

L. Dean:  Kinda gamey really.  Unless you get a young one.

Barnes:  The marinade takes care of it.  These soaked all night.  We're smoking it low and slow.

Maggie:  We're having salad too, right?

Barnes:  And caviar, Miss Graham.  Wine too.

Gabby:  Gracias a Dios.

Barnes:  L. Dean, let's hear some music.  Someone hit the lights!  We are finally free.  Gone to Texas.  Gone to Mexico.  Gone to Texico!


A festive scene plays out.  The band reassembles and music begins playing...



Song #2:  Sugarcane




            

        

Splendor Of The Old

Reach out for the signs of life.  Reject death.  In no uncertain terms.  Don't need your blood, don't need your bones.  Where something is going on.  A light in the dreary world.  Living free and easy.  Assured future.  Which is no future at all, but constant and always.  Past, present, and future all at the same time.  Impossible to comprehend.  Days of songs.  Nights of rest.  And the reverse of that.  Days of rest.  Nights of songs.  This fear of something that might be.  Or what someone might think.  Or what will happen.  The glory of the young is their strength.  Gray hair is the splendor of the old.  20, 29 of Solomon's wisdom.  Ain't that the truth.  Strength of body and will.  The dead houses are dark.  Blues and grumbling all the time.  Envy and discontent.  Entitled to a life of style.  Blame God if you must.  Wouldn't be the first time.  He is used to it.  All the prayers, all the pleading, all the Hail Mary's even.  He invites even more.  Until we turn.  Knowing we will turn away in the end.  It is not rational.  Our God is not rational, or even practical it seems.  All we have to do is live and die.  The saving is covered.  Not many get to choose how to die, but our lives are up to us.  In many ways.

Escaped To The Water

stop it.
we are not here forever.
forever has its own place.
defined by unknown senses.

raise a glass.
the enjoyment of moderation.
escaped to the water,
floating and kicking.

love.
forgiveness is required.
the enemy is incapable.
has to work the angles.

as far.
as the east is from the west.
we are forgiven.
peace leads to peace.

blame.
only yourself.
daily decisions over time.
your own decisions.

control.
is the world's aim.
health and protection.
security is a god.

hearts.
open and clean.
the spirits place.
where souls and Word meet.

From Western Canada

only the players really know.
the set.
the parts are well defined.
maintain the bottom.
and the back beat.
constantly.
the muse up front.
accordion queen.
from south texas somewhere.
16 ounce lone star cans.
bootleg recordings.
sight lines required maneuvering.
the performance must be watched.
listening is not enough.
head full of fred.
tiff ginn or ginn tiff.
cannot remember.
the show plays on.
from western canada.
down as far as alabama.
throughout the south.
ohio.
vermont.
love and war.
blonde streaked bass lady.
telecaster lead.
4 string banjo.
songs of revival and forwardness.
delivered indignantly.
and smoothly.
everyone staked a claim.
everyone swayed.
and the deal was sealed.

Shovel Leg

Came down with a case of shovel leg.
Anyone whose ever used a shovel for a significant job knows.
Flower beds, walking paths, post holes, ditches, water mains.

Occupation of a younger man.
Shoveling.
Don't see many old diggers.

Like pulling a muscle while sneezing.
Or in the tossing and turning night.
We are failing creatures.
After the age of about 33.
That's the prime.

Son of Man never hit forty.
Son of God is ageless and timeless, of course.
Eternal and protected from decay or decline.

Ideas are endless.
They have always come one way or another.
Impulses must be channeled deliberately.
Without corruption.
Beyond inspiration.

Shoveling can lead to steady work.
For awhile anyway.
Shovel leg could turn into shovel back.
Wrecking your tennis game for good.

Warhols And Alphabets

walk through here again/  make the night stars glow/  leave a little for the rest/

a blessing before you leave/  obsessed with maniacal tasks/  over and over and over/

healthy in a certain kind of way/  early cold winds awake the morning/  call out and search for something/

inner demeanor a slanted track/  balance and equality impossible/  like societies and cultures/

never knowing what to be/  like mine with some pesto/  a light coating of taste/

don't throw it away by overuse/  moderation is a worthy pursuit/  dealer girls surveying the racks/

watters creek boutique afternoon/  warhols and alphabets/  bedazzled skulls are in evidently/

luxurious waiting room chairs/  the oil and vinegar store/  looping for a parking spot/

speaking her mind and heart/  the soul had been fed/  they are all women now/  

Sweet Charmed Life

.same story.
.self pity is useless.

.patience is easy.
.freeze the frame.

.kindness too.
.nonconfrontational.

.gentleness is a reflection.
.give what is given.

.no expectations.
.to pass through here again.

.sweet charmed life.
.health and blessings.

.scattered everywhere.
.shattered and worn in.

.separate joy.
.not dependent on others.

.love of hope.
.knowing the end is the beginning.

Guthrie, Texas

.saturday morning rewind.water is up.cool forty degrees.heater fans rumble quietly.noises of age.automatic routines.scattered around are bottles.koozies.remotes.used plates.lighters.jars.keys.music.provisions.

.the guns are put up.the hog killing is planned.saturday about dusk.the land near jayton.tumbleweed blind.they will pass by.snorting and squeling.digging dirt for roots.dirty animals.50 yards.be an easy shot.through the lungs is best.eventually they will fall.we'll take the backstrap and hammies.cannot wait.

.the earlier car drive was a song.the dan of steel.meddle.ezmarelda spaulding.she knows what men want.neil covers.woody guthrie songs by wilco and bragg.stopped into the 6666 ranch supply store.was running on fumes.next station was 30 miles.no one was around.the town of Guthrie, Texas was spotless.I was grateful for the gasoline.I went in and looked around.rows of neatly stacked goods.clothes even.boots and jeans.noticed large amounts if clamato juice and beans.mexican ranch hands live here.red beer is a staple.the loop built around the town years earlier added to its isolation.the ranch was a local operation.like a kingdom.the fact that the name of the place is 6666 ranch and the pitchfork ranch is down the road does cause a moment of consideration.but that is silly nonsense.it is absolutely God's creation.it is so peaceful.and everything we could ever need is there.except sunglasses.the lady at the store informed me.no people visible.but two dark glass suburbans prowled like an unofficial partrol.glad to be on my way as I passed by the tidy airstrip.where the New York queen flies in.

.miles away from the construction.civic improvement all around.orange barrels and arrow signs.the heart of denton is gutted.escaped through the hills of jack county.the beginning of the west.

Held For Ransom

Hope and glory.
It's all we got.
Read the story.
Find the plot.

Held for ransom.
Almost got shot.
Wasn't lonesome.
Never forgot.

Hope was at the beginning.
Hope be around in the end.
Hope will never ever follow.
Hope gonna be right here.

If ya want more faith.
Read the word.
Then the spirit.
Gonna do the work.

No reason to worry.
Or lie awake at night.
Don't be in a hurry.
Might miss some life.

Hope was at the beginning.
Hope be around in the end.
Hope will never ever follow.
Hope gonna be right here.




e.a.3.d7.e.a....d7.a.3.a.e.a.

The Happiest Kind

.happy gas of the happiest kind.
.thoughts like a wave ride.
.connecting eyes.
.only in the city.
.on the streets.
.walkers of all angles.
.destinations to come.
.frames of life.
.scenes.
.acts.
.a beauty.
.absolutely stop-the-camera memory.
.like perfection.
.we know the truth.
.done with and hypnotized.
.in a love trance.
.looking at each other.
.the clouds come and go.
.dry spells and gushers.
.we age in our sleep.
.wrinkles of the happiest kind.

Light The Dark

cg
.we wait, we wait, for the King to return.
d7d7
.and we smash the dark, and we smash the dark.

.too many have been lost.

.and we kick the dark, and we kick the dark.

.not in the name of my God.

.and we slice the dark, and we slice the dark.

.rise up, rise up, with the sword of truth.

.and we light the dark, and we light the dark.

lalalalalalalalalalalala.....

.we know, we know, the music will flow.

.and we feel the dark, and we feel the dark.

.had more good times than I probably should.

.and we love the dark, and we love the dark.

.wouldn't want be nowhere but right here.

.and we face the dark, and we face the dark.

.wanna make sure I make my point clear.

.we gonna light the dark, we gonna light the dark.

lalalalalalalalalalalala.....



.

Drip Those Pipes

.parked outside in the frozen night.drip those pipes.call in the dogs.keep the stove going.survival is at stake!

Stairs Into The Clouds

.stairs into the clouds.
.avoiding ice and into the great unknown.
.not known or understood.
.rely on given faith.

.stairs into the clouds.
.layers and layers of wild turbulence.
.whirlwinds and funnels.
.it is very real.

each step its own and required.
every breath must be taken.
all the years lived.
or minutes or even seconds,
and the before birth life.
eternal works both ways.
beginning and end are the same.
one cancels the other out.

.stairs into the clouds.
.all kinds of constructed configurations.
.around and around.
.majestic and makeshift.

.stairs into the clouds.
.quickly through and into space.
.magnetic pulls and pushes.
.degrees and explosions.

Even The Dirt

fools, fools, fools.
praying for salvation that has already come.

for peace that is forever.
for themselves.

pretend, at least.

to have hope.
to see past the mirror.
to cling to something.
or anyone.

everything is not bad.
most everything is beautiful.
even the dirt.

Pick Pockets

to dallas!  pack up honey.  call the girls and let em know.  going to a show.  down on greenville.  bob schneider is the man.  rainy and windy and cold, but we'll be in the warm theater.  the granada got the clouds on the ceiling.  early arrivals get the good seats, make my way down for a few songs later in the set.  stand and sway.  the northface hoodie is perfect.  got a pocket on the inside.  dallas is full of pick pockets.  those old thieves.  pocketknife pat has a surprise.  wake her at night and see if i've been lying.  my wife got a pocketknife oh yeahh, yeah, yeah.  the other day she was walking in a parking lot.  a dude came up to her, said give me what you got.  my wife looked him the eyes, said you want my pocketknife?  this guy didn't know what to say.  it was clear to him, he picked the wrong woman today.  hey man, what you gonna do?  mess with me, i'm gonna cut you in two.  that man, he left the scene.  shaken up by what he'd seen.  my wife, she got a pocketknife, oh yeahhhhaaaahhhhyeah...

Immigration Rotation

the laptop life.  full of mobility and words at the ready.  a flood could follow.  pecking on screens is for the brief.  to the point.  which has it's place.  but production of a fully formed idea needs keyboards and speed.  pages per day days.  strictly structured or strictly random.  needs to add up.  either or.  instant reactions and immediate stories.  like the ones about the doctors of the old days.  about the mexican workers of the forties and fifties.  one had to be sent back for every ten.  back on monday morning.  tired from the long bus ride back through the endless south texas brush.  lawman has to do his job.  round up another one the next farm over the next day.  the immigration rotation.  the farmers picked out the laziest for the bus ride.  time to think about their work ethic.  automatic motivational process.  complete with mercy and second chances.  tons and tons of cotton to pick.  fields and fields to hoe.  rows and rows of corn.  this was before the massive machines of modern farming.  before techniques became exponentially more efficient.  hands and earth days.  the good hands camped on the outer edges and smoked weed til late at night.  for days and months they worked for texas farmers.  the black dirt of the trinity region.  the mexican boss man handled the money.  during the fall harvest they planted seeds for the spring return.  on creek banks, in culverts, near the cacti.  something to relax their nights.  beer and whisky led to loud behavior.  raucous and violent.  the drunks got sent back to mexico on a bus.  the smokers looked at the stars and understood peace.  the skies huge and bright.  ahh, the laptop life.  neon green and thin.  makeup already scars the keys.  those girls!  already slept on, despite the rules.  up and running now.  words to follow.

Hang Ten

The great fundraiser.

Really works up the crowd.

Lost in the applause.

Followers follow.

And it never ends.

The convincing.

No time to work.

Busy keeping the job.

The grease keeps it smooth.

And we ooze on.

Whip up the public.

Talk about unfairness.

Boo the blue.

Align with thugs and scammers.

Keep your job.

Speak and speak and speak.

Rest your weary bones.
Off to the islands.

Jet lag is a bummer.

Hang ten.

Jillions Of Miles Away

.this thing about others.
.these weepy eyes.
.known through and through.
.like an automatic rewind.
.machines are supposed to work.
.jillions of miles away.
.between space debris.
.near the eternal state.
.talk of lightning bolts and rain.
.atmosphere gazers.
.time off the clock.
.the believing class.
.winos, sickos, and hobos.
.greasers, sleepers, and keepers.
.brains, pains, and other names.
.brats, rats, and the trapped.
.the community of always.

The Arrival Of Our Future

.wildcatters, leaning in.
.making eye contact and showing out.
.this is their time.
.wavy lashes and lips of color.
.smooth, smooth faces.
.work ethic queens.
.the arrival of our future.
.downtown talk and cash.
.local is always relevant.
.eyes half open and slurs.
.going on about gratitude.
.spitting food and giggling.
.book deals, as always.
.the expression of an artist.
.an unexpected hero.
.old and cranked.

Observations Of Absurdity

   
      Usually, it starts with the literal.  Reality being important to the structure of anything, tangible objects, real thoughts, observations of absurdity.  Then the tone of the sound.  The minors and sevens adding significant moods.  Letters that go together.  The words fill in parts of the completed work, but  they only compliment the song.  Some is left to the listener to describe, in their terms, in the context of their circumstances.  What is meant by the creator is less important than how it is experienced.  Boundaries are fine, each song has it's place and purpose.  Creating serves the creator, listening serves the listener.  Each uncaring of the other's motivations and inspiration.  Complete separation.  All this is evident, but many are motivated by the creator, not the creation.  The singer, not the song.  Most songs come together quickly, expressions are not lingering things.  More like flashes, wind gusts, or sudden.  Capturing a specific time and place, with what is active in the mind, body, or spirit. The performance is another matter, where articulation, space, understanding, and freedom are continuously refined.

Gloria

.could only think of one thing to do...
.apologies...
.only had a few issues to figure out...
.please...
.regardless of time or circumstance...
.modern...
.gloria is heard as one unified sound...
.backbeat...
.avoiding the light in the shakedown...
.shadows...
.life defined and already determined...
.expectations...
.calm usually exists near distractions...
.smooth...

The Hall Of Fame Games

...this business about this hall of fame.  The one that cannot bring itself to induct Drew Pearson or Cliff Harris.  The one that is a hall of fame only in name, what a shame, what a shame, so lame, so lame.  These two individuals who defined football on offense and defense, especially for dallas cowboy observers.  Harris, an early balder, tough as dirt, gave more than he got, and he got plenty.  No doubt he paid the price for his induction.  Won multiple Super Bowls, played in more, was always in Hawaii for the pro bowl, accolades upon accolades.  Played 10 years for the same team as they reached the heights of success.  Pearson, the dude, the cool operator with the superafro, the slick, the sideline artist, the class and with class, the original 88.  Before Irvin, before the first Bryant, before Dez.  The Hail Mary!  Swann and Stallworth are both in.  It's disgusting.  For both players, the career numbers are entirely sufficient.  Theoretical explanations and hypothetical understandings are futile.  The pure envy involved, the absolute transparency of the situation.  Both first team all decade for the 1970s, as voted on by the hall of political games itself.  But this is not a pitch or debate, this is an expression.  There are others too.  Harvey.  Everson.  Too Tall went 7-0 as a professional heavyweight boxer!  An expression of peace, only once the turmoil is tamed.  But the expression only validates and makes conviction stronger.  There is worry about the safety Darren Woodson, who was always the best player on the field when he played.  Obvious, it was.  Perhaps the best all around special teams player of his era as well.  Was probably the emergency QB, Kicker, Punter, deep Snapper, Tight End, and MLB.  One of those players.  Of course, it is universally known and remembered.  Darren Woodson.  Mainly, the therapeutical benefit of this expression is real.  Life can continue the predictable and unpredictable.  Controllable and uncontrollable should be determined.  All emotions should be indulged in moderately.  Decisions should be decisive, after appropriate consideration.  Finally, exhibit class.  In all it's forms.  These two men, Cliff and Drew, have too much class to point out the obvious.  Other priorities have risen above the slight.  The wrong must be made right by others.  They have moved on.  The 70s was a long time ago.  Ain't that the truth.  Both went on to productive lives, quietly and content with what they, and the team, accomplished on the field.  The accolades, memories, and championships.  Plural.  It was all there.  Another thing, why does one state, Ohio, get the Pro Football Hall of Fame and the a Rock and Roll Hall of a Fame?  Tripping Daisy and the Swinging Ds will probably get screwed too.

Tripped By Mentalities

.a decending of sorts.
.back to the farm.
.bit by reality.
.didn't bite back.

.a pleading of course.
.stacked in the barn.
.hit by finality.
.caught in the act.

.a year maybe more.
.since she was born.
.lit by mortality.
.checked the facts.

.a cleansing endorsed.
.the maps been torn.
.tripped by mentalities.
.got off track.

.a pretending by choice.
.hacked and harmed.
.hid from neutrality.
.refused to take sides.

.a resending of noise.
.sound the alarm.
.content with my melody.
.nothing to hide.

CDx2
CG
DG

Five Hour Window

   
     The wreckage of KOtC4 is just being swept off the pavement.  Traffic was jammed for miles.  But no one gets through before the King.  Re-introducing--King The Todd.  In a test of resolve, faith, and understanding, King The Todd slid the best on the wet surface, King The Todd ignored the wind and hit the most perfect shots, King The Todd broke the will of even the finest competitors.  Cushman The Kid, wanted another shot at him from the morning session but had his own battle in the Duke division, where the tournament administrator, and co-founder of the Isner Scoring Method, became a royal.  That's right, Duke Keck.  The Prince was claimed by the mysterious Mir sub, Victor Coronado.  A seemingly proud man, he'll be an honorable Prince, but he clearly has his eye on the throne.  Prince Coronado will get his chance at King The Todd in the summer KOtC5.  Bulldog Bobby saw his game firsthand as he clawed his way into the Prince division.  His demo days are over.   Vito Nyguyn claimed the Earl from Leo Escario after an epic, and historic, 20 game winner take all mahut.  The Royal Escario no more, his familiar cackle and grit, his marathonian conditioning.  Nope, it's Vito The Earl.  This royal court, in perhaps the finest field ever assembled, on perhaps the severest court conditions possible, endured.  They showed.  King The Todd, Prince Victor Coronado, Duke Keck, and Vito The Earl.  They are royal.

     The early morning hour was dreary, Keck ignoring forecasters predicting 100% chance of rain and trusting Delkus, who foresaw a 5 hour window of dry conditions weirdly aligned directly with our tournament time frame.  All the players must have thought Keck mad when he sent out the prearranged, early morning green light.  A pouring rain was covering the whole metroplex at that point. Frank Friday roddicked, which seemed a reasonable thing to do, but surprising from him.  He was the only one.  Player by player they showed, leery to be sure, but inspired by the faith of the tournament administrator.  When King James instructed everyone to ditch the squeegees and get used to the footing, KOtC4 was bonafide.  The overcast skies lit a bit, the wind picked up and partially dried the courts.  The rain had stopped.  There was trepidation, there was doubt, there was suggestions, there was anxiety.  Puddles were still all over, it was slick!  Reports of massive USTA event cancellations and alterations only added to the whispers and mumbling.  Keck understanding the significance of the moment, called the group together, explained the format for the benefit of new players, and officially started the morning session of KOtC4.  Rain came and went a few times, but progressively the weather improved.  The sun even peeked though briefly.  It was almost muggy as the players shed the pullovers and got down to business.

     Because my morning group had an unsubbed roddick, I had a chance to check out the early action.  Usually, idle time is very minimal during the event, but unavoidable in this scenario.  The players were clearly adjusting to the footing.  Deliberate ground strokes and patient footwork overcame the conditions and points were being wildly contested.  King James was playing Sellers, who had his menacing dog chained to the net post.  King James was dominating, but Sellers was scrappy and took a game as I watched.  He got to everything and kept the pressure on with slicing shots of varying distance.  His dog growled and whined.  King James seemed vulnerable, perhaps a foreshadowing of the events to follow in the afternoon King Division.  New player JD Miles took King James down 6-4 in the afternoon before calling it a day at 1-6 in his mahut with King The Todd.  He then sped off in his sports car, cursing at the King and promising revenge.  New player Huffman rounded out the King Division in the finest field ever assembled for the format.  Incredibly, he went off to play more tennis, indoors of course, after KOtC.  He expressed shock at the 5 hour window.  Later, at the post tournament drinking table, Sellers had incorporated Isner terminology with complete understanding, commoner James predicted we burned 5000 calories, and Duke Keck continued to preach and explain the benefits of the format.  Sellers even had suggestions for improvement.  Almost Prince Bobby moved slower after some idle time and my back and plantar fascia needed a hot tub.  King The Todd, on his own, implemented the even game changeover.  A kaizenian spirit.  He'll go to the Southern Hemisphere early next year and learn from Australians and New Zealanders.  He will leave them with well wishes and peace.  A King for the good times.

   Due to the Frank Friday roddick, my morning group only had 3 players.  The flexibility of the format automatically adjusts to this eventuality by not sending anyone to fight for the Earl in the afternoon.  I was grouped with two former college players, Kirsch and Huffman.  Both new to the format, I felt an obligation to explain some of the nuances and benefits.  They looked at me somewhat strangely, but I knew they would know later.  It must be experienced for true understanding.  I went 3-7 against both. The huge German Kirsch hitting backhands from extreme angles and the relentless Huffman hitting nonreturnable serves.  His game was too much for Kirsch too as he destroyed him 8-2.  As they were playing each other I asked the score.  "0-6," bellowed Kirsch as he pointed at Huffman.  They looked at me strangely again as I explained the moulette.  To remind:  moulette is the French word for skunk and is incorporated as ISM terminology in honor of the Frenchman Nicolas Mahut, one of the survivors of the incredible 2010 Wimbledon match that went on for days, when the American John Isner finally won the 5th set 70-68.  Overall, I was pleased with my play and understood my place in the tennis galaxy. The Duke was highly contested.  Up 4-1 on Joe Vita, he came back and been me 6-4 in our mahut.  I fell apart after he complimented my play.  Keck, noticeably motivated, took me down 7-3 and Cushman The Kid made me feel my age in front of his mom.  Keck's destruction of Joe and the Kid made it official--Keck was royal.  His early morning leadership and optimism only solidified his worthiness.  As he sat drinking Newcastles at the post tournament gathering he was beaming.  By that time the skies released the promised heavy rain.  It was like God had affirmed our influence on the tennis culture.  First time players were amazed.  And understood.  Mardy Feldman, who roddicked for unavoidable reasons, had clearly succumbed to the pressure of USTA sanctioned play. But 'cancelled play due to the treat of rain' was what he got.  His feeble last minute offer to step in for Frank Friday was too late. 
   

Styrofoam

Styrofoam, styrofoam, all over my home.
All I've ever known, styrofoam, styrofoam.

Parking lot, parking lot, gonna come to a stop.
Might like it or not, parking lot, parking lot.

New York nights, New York nights, think we just might.
Get on the plan and fly, New York nights, New York nights.

Love is true, love is true, what you gonna do.
The cure for my blues, love is true, love is true.

Styrofoam, styrofoam, don't wanna be alone.
You'll find me at my home, styrofoam, styrofoam.

Heavy Air

 
   Being put in charge of trophies for King Of the Court 4 is a massive responsibility and a massive challenge.  Previously, the standard had been raised and the trophies I devised for KOtC1 seemed inadequate.  Keck told me his expectations were high and that I must deliver.  Like the future of the tournament, and possibly the sport of tennis, was at stake.  I felt the full weight of his trust and finally settled on my plan.  Possibly the most coveted, certainly the most valuable, and absolutely appropriate.  Their unveiling at the check in card table will inspire the field.  The best field to date.  16 players ready and committed.  2 Isner round robin sessions, 6 opponents each, 60 total games each.  For the tournament, 96 total mahuts, 960 total games, a King, a Prince, a Duke, and an Earl.  All in about 5 hours.  The trophies must be nice and significant, and will be.
     Do not envy Keck.  Yes, he is an incredible tennis artist.  Yes, he knows Billie Jean King.  Yes, he is a metal head.  Yes, he no longer has to be a cowboy fan.  But save your envy.  Keck is in charge of assessing weather conditions for KOtC4, and will ultimately decide to postpone or play through the elements.  It is 6:30 am now.  Surely he is up, walking the streets of his neighborhood, kicking the pavement with his backup pair of tennis shoes, listening for the right squeak.  It is a huge burden and the ramifications of his actions will reverberate and reverberate.  The second guessers.  The know it alls.  The Delkus wanna Bes.  He will make the right call, either way, after anguish and woe.  In this he must be trusted, not envied.
     Overcoming the usual dropouts, we will move forward.  An impressive self replacement culture has evolved.  The Todd's brother, Mardy, and Mir both getting subs when unavoidable events required them to roddick.  The kid from last year replaced by a new kid.  Organic ethics are developing.  Keck's communication processes, the familiar "Mahut!" as the server begins each mahut, the determination to continuously adjust the format.  This year we could try the even game changeover.  Or possibly the 5 game changeover.  Talk of a royal doubles finale mahut pitting the King and Earl vs. the Prince and Duke is likely too ambitious.  The crowds would love it, but the players might revolt.  Best to keep the focus on the tennis, not the crowds.
     The mist is covering everything.  It is strangely muggy.  Steady rains and lightening are a 100% certainty if weather professionals are believed.  Clouds and fog of pure vapor are all over as the sun is giving glow to the overcast sky.  Heavy air.  It will be a tough call for Keck, but I wanna slide like Novak, I wanna serve the spitball, I wanna fight like Isner, I wanna be the King!  In truth, I'd be thrilled to be the Duke and proud to be the Earl.  Just wanna be a royal.

Hang On The Vowels

...looking out for some meteorites...in the northeastern sky...early birds still in the nest...feathers wrapped tightly...almost made a mockery of the whole situation...unreportable problems of rationing and calculation errors...add up the numbers, you get what you get...emotional meldowns and claims of insanity...physical wreckage of the painful kind...the tv tube has gone lame...they are all flat and aware of time...its constant beat...the deep bass like your family...the parade of backup singers...the keys put the squeeze on my knees...and the lead like a warrior...keeping rhythm and framing the song...stories of facts and fiction...hang on the vowels...

Combined With Taste

...we don't come up with this...true art us not from us...melody is revealed...in the blank stare humming...in the tapping and the ticking...the whole world moves in 4.4 time for many...for others silence is the preferred noise...moderate indulgences combined with taste...which is from us and easily misapplied...like an instrument...we are to be used...worn out and discarded...but that is for later...now we are being calibrated constantly...inundated with inspiration...tugged at with incredible persistence...made sick for resisting....made alive for allowing...this is for nothing...it is for someone else...but it is not from me...

Be Back Directly

She's gone mad on the live wire.
You are welcome gentlemen.
This one ain't ready.

Only the broken can continue.
The perfect are too frail.
Darts for eyeballs.

Sure enough it worked out.
It always does.
In some way or another.

I'll be back directly.
Gonna drive the south field.
Check on the fence wire.

Need to get the powder out.
Those animals getting eat up.
Damn flies.

Wildcats growling for real.
Devious intentions.
Thirsty and ready.

Big Sun

It's a big sun this morning.
Her heart toubled and burning.
It's alright.  Honey it's alright.
Got dropped in a spot.
World got rocked.
Truth is the only clarity.
Cg
Fc
Gfc

The Wilson Hope

 
    The winds blow wild in Wylie.  Always.  The 4 courts are set on a hill, enclosed by a single fence.  One side has no windscreens and the ones loosely attached along the remaining sides hiss and howl when it gets breezy.  Halfway between Rockwall and McKinney it's proximity was ideal for a Saturday morning Isner Roundrobin.  Joe was already there when Keck and I drove up around 7:45 am.  Bobby arrived a bit later and we got loose.  Because we knew 40 games awaited us, the warm up was brief and we spun racquets quickly.  2 up, 2 down and the pairings were clear.  Keck and I, Joe and Bobby.  The format calls for a 10 game mahut against each player, with #1 and #4 playing #2 and #3 in a 10 game doubles mahut to finish it off.  The first 30 games replicates a morning or afternoon KOtC session.

     Predictably, Keck took first.  Bobby and I battled for #2 and at deuce in the final game of our mahut, our 30th game of the morning,  it was still undecided.  Exhausted, I fought off the swirling winds, kept my toss low, and served it out.  Bulldog Bobby is always tough.  Our 5-5 finish left him #3 after Keck destroyed Joe 9-1.  Despite Joe's 6-4 win over Bobby and a never say die 4-6 loss to me, his final mahut destined him to #4. My Wilson Hope racquet was wobbling at the handle.  It's bent frame was noticeably warping the head.  Factory strings, strung at about 51 it seemed.  I had played great with this racquet and was reluctant to make a change.  Two of my racquets are getting fresh strings for KOtC, but for now, I was playing confident with the white and pink Hope.  They'll cure that cancer one day.  For now, keep on walking across the city.  Keep on being pink.  Joe was blasting forehands, mostly out, Keck was hanging in every point and keeping the pressure on.  His intolerance and disgust of mistakes is a powerful weapon.  Bobby has really gotten to another level.  His results are clear.  My serve was maddening all day but eventually put me at #2.  Double fault mumbling.  The unkind tape.  Bobby and I tied Joe and Keck 5-5 in doubles, with every point contested to the maximum.  Thought about the Lone Survivor movie, the true story of 4 Navy Seals in Afghanistan.  Markey Mark stars in it.  Incredible story of people who always see a way to win. Serving, but down 1-3, 15-40 to Bobby, I thought of them.  We changed over at 2-3.  Only one survived.  Remember them on Veterans Day.  11/11.  God's Will, amen.

Big Moon

.big moon tonight.
.thousands and thousands of human hours.
.idling slowly.
.radio updates on the sound waves.
.tales of fish tails and sirens.
.tracking numbers and lies.

Refinement

.lets hear the whole story.
.skip that boring part.
.perfect detail.
.refinement can destroy.
.and it can enhance.
.a true art it is.
.speak deliberately.
.mainly not to spit.
.walk with a loose and limber gait.
.keep swimming against the waves.
.the crowd should never be followed.
.almost never.
.my patience is lacking.
.my conclusions are wicked.
.my temper gets riled from time to time.
.usually, I contain.
.absence makes the heart more real.
.even an hour or day.
.something supernatural is happening.
.bread and water and body and blood.
.forgiveness can be asked for.
.and is given.
.the truth lies in what's been done.
.it is the truth for a reason.
.it is true.
.we don't have to save ourselves.
.sweet Jesus!!
.thanks God.

Hog Killing Weather

emamem
amd7

Pick out about five fat ones.
The air is getting cold.
Hog killing weather.
Offer them a handful of corn.
22 between the eyes.
Slice the throat, bleed em out.
Shave the hairs, down to the tail.
Toss the guts aside.
Skin the skin, leak the lard.
Hanging in the trees.
Get some hams, keep the ribs.
The rest is sausage.
If you got the right recipe.
Red pepper, sage, and garlic.
Give the head to the help.
Keep the toungue and some brains for mawmaw.
She went through the Great Depression, ya know.
Bacon is just too much trouble.
Cracklings are a real treat.
Cover up that meat in salt, cure it up.
Rent some freezer space in town.
It's cold out today.
Getting to be hog killing weather.

Final Volt

.hold on tight.
.assurance guarantee.
.lit up like a video game.
.sputtered in on the final volt.
.haywire and screeches.

.cars parted like the Red Sea.
.traffic lights coordinated.
.some cash in the bank.
.recollections and native stories.
.a bulldog pen.
.it was a very Goodyear.

.waiting room zen.
.timid eyes.
.wired up early and tapping.
.take one...for free.
.the 2014 line up is the best ever.
.driver eight.
.passenger side.
.L.A. woman.
.and on and on.

.time is always the same.
.ficticious minutes and hours mere dividers.
.only for our convenience.
.like verses in the Book.
.added later.

Eternity With A Smile

.all we ever wanted was love.
.acceptance and understanding.
.affection and protection.

.the winds are harsh on the trails.
.faces of the mountains frowning.
.season after season.

.blind eyes and deaf ears.
.the devil can't touch us.
.his horns or his fangs.

.take it on the chin.
.flaunt your victory.
.face eternity with a smile.

Ghost Of The Grievous Angel

.duck out with eyes in the back of your head.they gonna getcha.the ones that slither along.the ones that look away.consumed with self importance, self happiness, and self love.make sure to look out for number one.self survival like the darwinists.achievement and success.stacked on a pile of bones.built on flimsy foundations.ringing that bell, high on that ladder.someone's gotta be on top.lead the charge, ask the tough questions.polished up and perfect reflections.dignified and mannerly.international submarine band.ghost of a grievous angel.crosses and weed.country and rock.hippie and redneck.scholar and bum.gentleman and dog.Emma Lou didn't mind.nothing else to do, nothing else to sing, nothing else to write.self absorbed instincts fading away.

Full Dose

.gather up all the serum makers. .dig up the cacti of the west and shoot it up. .the viruses are all punks. .bodily fluids and air borne bastards. .hazmat suits are no match. .a vial is what we need. .a full dose. .the panic will end. .we'll venture out with confidence. .cactus juice, man. .that's the good serum.

At The Rio Blanco

Long bow, too slow, at the Rio Blanco.
Like I said, lead head, got fed, instead.

Greens upon greens, upon greens.
Loaded plants and vines.
My mind, oh my mind, oh my mind.

What's real, how I feel, how I steal, it's my deal.
What's a clock, why not, match the pot, take a shot.

Watch it rain, came up lame, took the pain, insane.
Up a creek, keep the beat, soak your feet, take the streets.

Get loud, lose the crowd, do it now, do it now.
Long bow, too slow, at the Rio Blanco.

C
GFC

Chicken Wire

 
     The courts were brand new.  Possibly, we were the first to ever play on them.  We were bringing high level tennis to Spur, Texas.  Now they had the facilities.  Chicken wire was needed between the bottom of the fence and the court to prevent balls from rolling under, windscreens are mandatory in the west texas wind, and locking the side gate serves no purpose.  Also, the lights seemed insufficient for reasonable night play and the absence of a backboard was noted.  Still, despite these needed adjustments, the two electric blue on forest green courts was the nicest, and newest, construction project in town.  Somehow it put Spur in another category.  Keck and I had played on the old courts the previous two years during the annual tx.ou weekend gathering at Rio Blanco canyon.  They were older than old, neglected and sad.  Not played on for a decade, not stepped on for years, we took to them for 10 game mahuts.  That first year, I took Keck down 6-4, mainly due to an unstoppable inside out serve on the backhand side.  The drooping 2 and a half foot net only assured my victory that day.  Chunks of court would fly, we slid like we were on clay, shattered glass was all over, cracks plagued the courts badly.   Keck mauled me 8-2 the following year.  Vindication is one if his defining traits.  We showed up on the new courts excited and prepared after seeing them the day before on the way to the canyon.

    The turnstile was cleaned up and replaced to its original spot, the nets were brand new, the lines were perfect, thick and white.  The ball left incredible marks, the west texas red dirt providing perfect frames.  Like having laser beam technology.  I was obsessed with it, and impressed with a few of the calls that were made and validated by the marks.  Calling lines is like seeing visions.  Integrity and honor are required.  Tennis is a civilized game, dependent on the competitiveness and effort of each player.  After winning a few early games, Keck took control and won 7-3.  His forehand winners were deep and dove sharply inside the baseline, his swift feet were active, he kept the pressure on.  He became quickly disgusted at any error, he cussed missed first serves.  It was good to play fairly well.  4-6 was realistic and I had held out hope for 5-5 til he fought me off from love-30 in the 8th game to prevent a break.  As in years before, a small crowd watched from the porches and car ports that surrounded the area.  We recognized some of them from the years before.  They seemed proud to see us back, to see what they had built.  We hustled for drop shots, we screamed out in frustration, we moved from side to side.  We owed them our best.

     Preparations continue for King Of The Court 4.  A lot has happened.  Keck has met personally with Billie Jean King.  He has told her of the King Of The Court Tournament.  She was very impressed and, predictably, inquired about the girls.  The Queen Of The Court has already been discussed.  The format is the same with a Queen winner, a Princess, A Baroness, and a Countess.  We just lack the woman players, for now.  He also briefly met Andy Roddick.  All this happened in Austin at a convention of some sort.  Of course, keck was there with his wife on an unrelated matter.  The names are bigger than ever--Jeremy Strong, JD Miles, King The Todd, King James.  Mir is back.  Joe Vita, Leo Escario, Mardy Feldman too!  Frank Friday returns.  He and Leo have never missed being in the Royal Court.  Frank, first as Prince, then capturing the Earl in the summer.  Leo, going Prince, Earl, Duke in KOtC 1, 2,3 respectively.  Bobby Peirson is in again and Nielson returns after missing KOtC 3.  Another kid is playing after the previous kid went off to Shriner College to play for their tennis team.  He a student of Justin Quest and Jeremy Strong and the number one player on the Allen high team.  He could win the whole thing!  There are others.  Keck seems to be angling for the Duke, but will likely get in the Prince afternoon round.  My hope is to appear, healthy and loose.  Rugged preparations have given way to swimming routines and light drills.  One 20 game Mahut a week is all.  My roddick in KOtC 3 was humbling.  Watching from the fence line is not for me.  A tennis revival is  taking place.  The tennis channel has arrived.  In Spur and everywhere.

Peace Pie

.the thinking required is unimaginable.the way the stars are scattered.looking up is an opportunity.to open your mind.the other side of the world is there as well.they are as significant as us.don't count me among you.the revolution will continue.but first a shot in the dark.drink some tea and shut up.wonder silently so the noises can be heard.all the peaceful people have come and gone.it is just talked about like a constant state of hope.distractions can only make us weaker.forever is beyond time.that is true.but it starts somewhere.from here on out.not as its always been.hot apple peace pie.just pie.nothing else could break through.provisions are stocked.the whisky bottles are all over.the buckets of food and canned goods.nothing will spoil here.packed in ice and sealed.those refs were on the take.its obvious the baptists paid them off.interference is a two way street buddy.except when the fix is in.

Outspiration

Outspiration.  Victim of this world.
Outspiration.  Set the bar just high enough.
Outspiration.  Think of yourself first.
Outspiration.  Credit where it is not due.
Outspiration.  Undone and unaccomplished.
Outspiration.  Nothing is next.
Outspiration.  Let's get this straight.
Outspiration.  Conformity defined.
Outspiration.  Suburb mentality.
Outspiration.  Live for yesterday.
Outspiration.  Self absorption.
Outspiration.  Dead is dead.
Outspiration.  Dirty windows.
Outspiration.  Words of caution.
Outspiration.  Run out the clock.
Outspiration.  Sulking on the sidelines.
Outspiration.  No salt or pepper.
Outspiration.  105 degrees.
Outspiration.  Memos of declaration.
Outspiration.  Political parties.
Outspiration.  The good ole days.
Outspiration.  Chain of command.
Outspiration.  The inner circle.
Outspiration.  Pitiful faces.
Outspiration.  The speed limit.
Outspiration.  Morality judges.
Outspiration.  Saved by works.

Dastardly Decisions

.not much ironing going on.cook up some rice and eggs.work that list.responsibilities and daily particulars.keep up and shut up.here to be used up.music is cranked up.singing from another place.unable to translate the rationale.the urgency is real.the importance is irrelevant.why only matters to me.attitude alterations.alternate action.contingent on the threat of dastardly decisions.the carefree and the careless.one in the same.

Irrational Irritation

There is no receding. It is only rising. Musicians and dancers entertain the crowds. Staggering, shameless, and suspect. The beards and shades. The maked up women, showing it off. Petting zoos and dog races. Attentiveness is hard to find. Ten seconds of nothing like an impossible dream. Get a sample for only a dollar. The irrational irritation, only we can know.

Blue As The Sea Of Cortez

dcg
Blue as the Sea of Cortez.
cg
Her eyes melt in the light.
Do everything she says.
She makes it worth my while.

We fill our lives with gods.
Goddess lovers too.
Taste all the earthy joys.
Wanna do it with you.

cdcgx2
The ships they disappeared, on the horizon line.
Her lips they had no fear, as I looked into her eyes, they were...

Blue as the Sea of Cortez.
Her eyes melt in the light.
Do everything she says.
She makes it worth my while.

Through the gates we're led.
Been walking desert miles.
Suffered and hurt and bled.
Once cried all through the night.

Blue as the Sea of Cortez.
Her eyes melt in the light.
Do everything she says.
She makes it worth my while.

Like The Animals

   It is true about happiness.  Infectious it is, wonderful and validating.  Sought after, held up, and widely accepted as a worthy aim.  Be happy.  But in the midst, in the creaks, we suffer.  This burden of glee, this expectation of levity, this lonely dance.  The moments gather, then vanish.  Melodies always, knowledge of the truth, the end of preparation.  Accidental and careless, but not in an
irresponsible manner.  In a manner of speaking.  Can't help myself.  Bringing others into the fray.  Juvenile reasoning, think like children.  Pure and naive.  Like the animals.  Our souls aren't protected here, but they will survive here.