Dia De Los Dangerous!

The title of this post is from a Venture Bros. episode, if you were wondering.

I played tennis today, in the sun.
My face… red to say the least.
Oh lack of melanin, you strike again!

Is there anything more stressful than something you’re supposed to be good at?
For instance, if one is terrible at break dancing, one will usually not fret about learning out to break dance well. Unless that “one” is Brad McKenzie… dammit, I wanna pop and lock.

The song of today is First Song by Band of Horses just for the use of “shaking-ass cold.”
That’s lexicon I can get behind.

I signed up on diggit yesterday and had to blurb about my blog. “Blurb about my blog” is way too much lingo for a 4-word span… Regardless, this is what I came up with:
A blog dedicated to the overflow of ideas beaten into the template of words. Fitful musings and poetry on a nearly daily basis. These words are important. These words can move buildings.

I hate the last sentence… I should’ve nixed that instantly. Nipped it in the bud, if you will. Bud or butt? It’s not important… which then negates the next to last sentence in my blurb. Damn.

Quickwrite: Untitled (as most will be)
Throwing insults and hairspray
like a fury of revolving cougars,
I’m watching mercury weasel its way
down my chest.
It collects at my feet
and pulls the lightning out of my limbs,
shaking the earth around me.
I’m the ghost of King Hamlet
on a gyroscope,
levitating perfectly
around the globe
of my own ideas.

<end>

Yep, quickwrite means I just wrote that… just now.
How did I do?

-b.mckenzie

i am hamlet, hear me roar.

Borderline by Sufjan Stevens has to be the prettiest song ever created.
It would make the pope cry.

I just told someone that Alakazam was my boy…
I meant every word of that sentence.
For those of you not “in the know,” (read: “nostalgic oddballs”) Alakazam is an old pokemon.
He’s fast… faster than fast…QUICKSTYLE!

I learned that word from a girl I was dugg on a few years ago.
I’m keeping it, along with some other things.
The desperation, for one.

Wordsworth Recollection Hour Vol I:
Hermosa Beach, Spring Break 2006

My hands have hatched a thousand baby tortugas,
the sand is wet on the bottom of my jeans.
It rained the entire night on the beach.
We had to keep our eyes out for snakes, birds,
and turtle nests.
I need a rest.

The sea is black and becoming part of the night.
It has its own stars and planets and moons.
It also has vocal chords, which call for me to explore
its space like a ill-clothed, aquatic John Glenn.
I’m saving nature, I’m a flip-flopped Wordsworth.

The sun is rising and I’m pulling baby turtles out of
cylindrical dens, lairs of reptilian refugio.
I’m defying the circle of life, bypassing birds and cold
to hurl an endangered species into predator-filled water.
I am the tortuga God…

These two are Cain and Abel.
This one is Princess Diana.
This one is me, with sand in his eye
and a heart in his back.

[end]

I called it the Wordsworth Hour because he said writing best occurred while reflecting in peace a nice nature scene from years ago… something about the spontaneous overflow of emotion of calm recollection.

Not a bad first post… there was some sort of substance, right?

-b.mckenzie