“And nothing was interesting, nothing. The people were restrictive and careful, all alike. And I’ve got to live with these fuckers for the rest of my life, I thought. God, they all had assholes and sexual organs and their mouths and their armpits. They shit and they chattered and they were dull as horse dung. The girls looked good from a distance, the sun shining through their dresses, their hair. But you get up close and listen to their minds running out of their mouths, you felt like digging in under a hill and hiding out with a tommy-gun. I would certainly never be able to be happy, to get married, I could never have children. Hell, I couldn’t even get a job as a dishwasher.”—Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye.
the only poem my professor actually liked. all he wrote on it was “good” at the very bottom. thanks, i guess. we wrote 6, and it’s not even one i enjoyed writing the most or think is my best. i’ll prolly post the one i am actually proud of too, eventually. but here it is:
Sentimental For Everything
My fingers are straining, holding the box as I walk. Inside contains everything I want to take with me. Inside my head are things I cannot place in that box. Some of them I don’t wish to take. Some of them I wish I could replay, And live again day after day.
I stop and undo the gate’s latch. It lurches and creaks and begs me not to go. I look at the house- At everything it means, At everything it was. I think about how it makes me feel, I think about how inside smells, And how I’ll never find anything That comes close to that scent again.
My mind goes to the back of the yard where the dog is buried. My feet tread over the part in the path Where little sister fell and busted her chin. I think of the day when my mother answered the phone To news of her brother’s passing. I stood there in the kitchen, and watched her scream and cry.
I do not wish to leave. I take off my shoes and socks and feel the driveway’s asphalt. I remember how it used to be white gravel. I remember what this looked like in ‘92 after the ice storm. I remember taking a picture with my father, in this exact spot.
I walk barefooted to the mailbox, like so many summer afternoons before, When mother asked me to check the mail, and then became mad At the dirt I tracked back into the house.
I’m too sentimental for my own good. It’s just a house, It’s just a place. I load the last box and start the engine. I leave, Knowing nothing stays the same, No matter how hard you try.
and i can feel myself starting to get into a rut. i almost can’t wait for summer school to start, because it’ll give me something to do. some purpose i guess. it’s funny how while these days are slowly peeling away, i look back and feel sad they’re gone.
like yesterday, i didn’t do anything. i was in a weird mood pretty much for the entirety of it. i hardly left the couch. but i look back on it and miss it, and consider it a good day. the parts where i actually did something were a lot of fun. i left the house at like 7 to play baseball with matt. it was a nice evening, not too hot. we climbed a chain link fence like little kids and got into this lot. we called it a nuclear graveyard because we weren’t sure what was in there, just a bunch of pvc pipes and shit leading towards places. but we went in and played catch, and then one of us would throw the ball into the air to ourselves and try to hit the shit out of it while the other person ran it down. it was a lot more fun than sounded. my sides are sore this morning because i don’t think i’ve swung a bat in like 12 years. we would laugh cause i would swing as hard as i could and miss the ball completely like 7 times out of 10. but every now and then i got it pretty good.
after we went to house of pies, and it was awesome. chicken fried steak and 2 over easy eggs, with hashbrowns and an english muffin. fit for a king. seriously, i never have a bad meal or time at that place. it’s a house favorite. and then it was right back to the couch where i had just spent the entire day and just watched stupid shit on netflix. and i hated it. we did play a couple really stupid games of beer pong, because we were that bored. i did get kinda drunk enough to jam with dustin at like 1:30am. we had been listening to sum 41 and i guess i kinda got pumped. i can only play guitar for like 30 minutes before my hard starts to cramp up. but those 30 minutes are kinda good. it’s kinda like when i play baseball. 3/4ths of the time i suck and it sounds like shit, but for 5-8 minute spurts we get into something and it actually sounds pretty good. to me, at least.
and today, i got up, really late, ate breakfast and watched rollerball. what the fuck am i doing with my life.
we’ll see what the rest of the day brings. right now it’s boring as fuck but i bet a week from now i’ll be missing and yearning for it.
Coog Radio would like to personally thank all of the artists who made this compilation possible, our listeners for their love and support, the University of Houston for letting our voice be heard, and lastly, the city of Houston for which our first compilation is dedicated to.
had a really good day, despite a number of things. I had another new alternator put in my car, for the second time in about 6 weeks. It didn’t cost me anything at least. But I got to hang out and pal around Cypress with my dad for a few hours. We drank a few beers and ate raw oysters. It’s crazy how much better we get along now that I’m older, but I guess I don’t like little kids either. We show each other bands. I’ll put Real Estate on for my dad, and he’d be like “They’re alright, check this out”, and he’ll put on some weird band he found on Grateful Dead Pandora, and I’d be like “They’re alright”. Neither of us like the Grateful Dead but for some reason he loves the Grateful Dead Pandora station.
After I got my car back I went back into town, I’ve been doing everything I wanted to do since finishing school this semester. It includes lots of reading, naps, drinking, lounging, and listening to records. I’ve been pretty all-out schlep, and it’s great. Unproductive, and great. There’s shit I could worry about, a lot of shit, but right now I’m not. I’ll figure it out later, maybe.
But now, I just took a long, hot, shower and made a cranberry vodka, Dustin style. Big ass cup with 3/4ths cheap ass vodka and the rest with ocean spray. 1 and done. Putting on Do the Right Thing, cause Mookie and the Italians put me in a good mood. Goodnight moon.