Stories for A.D.D. (and other tales...)

Empty Beer Bottle Arm Tattoo

Annoying ‘girl’ voice.
A Cardinal’s fan.

Every floor pattern succumbs to the drunken loudness of an underground garage in Hollywood.

Crackling laugh at 9:44 pm.

Someone found me to be entering the scene, where I don’t belong.
The rally, the cry, the need, a creed, where we find the tunnel, is where we discover encouragement, lust, pity.

That high-pitched frame needs to come down to human planes, or some other casual, whimsical plea towards understanding mediocrity.

Some girls return from the Ides of Boredom only to find that boredom never left the place that they abandoned earlier, a dirty earlier, an okay earlier, a piercing fragment of a really, filthy evening, an upside down possibility of anywhere and everywhere. The shaky ground of not-knowing, uncovered, is how long a romance really should last.

And, remember that a tattoo lasts forever.

- gypsy george.

Life Is Unemployed

Life Is Unemployed

Black
is the feeling, the stretching
inside the social coup,

that thing,

which finds a way to destroy
very well-natured beings.

My

seeing-eye-dog-presence-of-mind,
the gazelle that wishes to lash me
down into misery

has left to suffer

like moths
in a firefly haze of executions
in August.

the search words on Yahoo!
don’t seem to work this evening…

justice
slid underneath a bathroom door
to find that

life is unemployed.

- gypsy george.

Stories for A.D.D. (and other tales...)

A Puzzled Princess

So. You can’t decide where to place your winter, white coat? The seat you chose was uncomfortable and numb. So. You stare at all the people, all the drunks and unemployed men, wondering who’s the one to buy you drinks tonight. So. The rise, the sit down, the question, the lust. It’s all about finding the game, which will let you win every time. So. You like the CD Juke Box, the Boss, “Dancing in the Dark.” It’s fitting. You kinda’ look like a, somewhat, ‘young’ version of Courtney Cox, minus the 80’s clothes. So. You found a resting place for your coat, but not yourself. Too much variety of the worse kind. It’s like an election year---vote for the one you hate the least, or, at least, vote against the one you hate, which ever may suffice the mood. The sound of clanging, cheap booze bottles. A hat would, however, help you appear less ‘puzzled.’ So?

- gypsy george.

Last Exit in Missouri

Last exit in Missouri
no more time to know

the last exit,

where the sun begins
where the evening goes.

She’s frightened like an angel
flying with new wings

yet,
she knows the steps to heaven.

One by one,
she will dream.

- gypsy george.

Stories for A.D.D. (and other tales...)

Skyward Lace

Godfather Enbestman torched a Camel Light underneath a fire escape off the corner of Lawrence and Broadway. He was contemplating the rust on the edges of the ladder. “Too many winters, not enough safety,” he thought. A white swirl emerged from the rooftop. The streetlights made it appear as aged lace. Godfather knew better; well, felt decent. One more drag. Time for another.

Echoes of the Green Mill waltzed throughout the neighborhood’s chambers. Al Capone’s ghost ricocheted from underneath a liquor store’s banister. A Vietnamese man, drenched in chicken grease, locked his storefront and headed for his 1992 Honda Civic. Another trace of skyward lace.

“Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.” A few blue sparks and a screech followed by, “Lawrence. This is Lawrence. Doors open on the right. Argyle is next.” Soon, some more rumbling fading to the north.

A shout. Wait. Shouting.

Some people tripped by Mr. Enbestman’s path. He nodded. They acknowledged him, and headed to the adjacent ATM. A powerful wind bursts onto the scene introducing himself as winter’s prophet. Godfather did not mind this. Wind’s introduction was short and, more importantly, humbled by the building’s whimsy. Besides, Godfather’s thoughts were elsewhere, somewhere not at the building’s edge.

No. He whispered a mouthful of meaningless words only to discover that non-sequiturs, in fact, can have meaning. At least, in the proper context. The cusp of youth tipped toward nowhere. Well, somewhere, if one was staring at the gutter. A puffy eyelid emerged from a shadow. She does not love him anymore. A remnant of skyward lace fell upon Godfather Enbestman like a shroud of Proust.

- gypsy george.

The Politics of Music

Social commentary has been at the heart of music – whether directly or indirectly – since Thomas Edison invented the phonograph. Leadbelly sang “Jim Crow,” Billie Holiday “Strange Fruit,” Woody Guthrie “Dust Bowl Ballads,” Bob Dylan “Masters of War,” XTC “Generals and Majors,” U2 “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” Pearl Jam “World Wide Suicide.” The list goes on and on. However, I feel that the essence of commentary has waned the last decade or so. I remember being at South By Southwest last year, and marching in an anti-war protest through Austin – including the main strip of the Festival, 6th Street. Very few – if any – musicians joined the march.

Now, I am not saying that musicians should automatically join a protest without cause. Rather, I encourage musicians to reflect the society in which they live. In other words, do NOT be afraid of your opinions and social outlook just for the sake of not ‘offending’ your audience. After all, John Lennon was once famously (mis)quoted as stating that the Beatles were much “bigger than Jesus Christ.” After that, everyone predicted the end of the Beatles. However, they are just as relevant today. Basically, standing up for something – and taking a risk - is better than standing next to something, and hoping that the ‘revolution’ will fix it in the mix.

See ya' on the open road!

- gypsy george.

An Iowan Drive

Between the Quad Cities (collectively Rock Island, Moline, Davenport, and Bettendorf) and Dubuque unfolds an exquisite stretch of highway. Actually, there are two highways, U.S. State Highways 67 and 52 respectively, serving the same purpose – to cradle and compliment the picturesque and historic shores of the Mighty Mississippi River. Painted with bucolic scenes of rolling prairies, unique homes and cottages, mom and pop diners and gas stations, this is one of the most peaceful and affordable trips one can take to simply “get away from it all.”

One of the most amazing attributes of this drive is the openness. That is to say, there are numerous hidden treasures that one can just pick and choose, at random, where to stop. This is definitely the type of drive the more adventurous, non-planning road tripper should venture in order to get the full experience.

For instance, as Highway 52 merges into 67 (essentially, Green Island to Clinton), there is plenty of scenic river front spots to take photos, stare at Illinois across the way, have a picnic, strum a guitar, or watch the train roll by – the tracks run right along the river’s edge. One can feel the history, the paths, the explorers, the slide guitars, harmonicas and whistles, which have, time and time again, traveled these roads.

Some quaint towns dot this drive. Places like Clinton, Le Claire and Camanche offer distinctive character to this region, especially when encountering some of the locals. However, my personal favorite is Bellevue. With a population of just under 2,500, this town is situated on a rolling cliff overlooking the Mississippi River. There are great bed and breakfasts, local inns, shops, and restaurants. One of the town’s most famous destinations is Potter’s Mill, which is a former flour mill built in 1845 converted into a restaurant and bed and breakfast. The people are very warm and friendly as well. In fact, one of my trips there, I came across a sign, which said: “Come see our new born baby.” There was an open house for anyone to come in, and, well...see their baby! Suffice to say, I elected not to go in (maybe my city roots got the best of me?).

Next time you are bored, want to get away, and happen to be pursing the heartland, travel along the Mississippi River between the Dubuque and the Quad Cities. Allow the freedom, sensibility, and uniqueness of this area to channel through your urban soul. It is quite an amazing experience to be able to stroll in the backyard of America...

One more note: If you find yourself enjoying the drive, try crossing the border at Dubuque into Wisconsin. There is a great, old ‘Cheesetown’ called Schullsburg along State Highway 11!

Below is a list of some recommended music to take along with this road trip:

Albums

Workingman’s Dead – Grateful Dead
Greatest Hits – Johnny Cash
Elvis Presley – Elvis Presley
Let It Bleed – Rolling Stones
The Great Twenty-Eight – Chuck Berry
Rumors – Fleetwood Mac
Led Zeppelin IV – Led Zeppelin
Harvest – Neil Young
Green River – Creedence Clearwater Revival
Pearl – Janis Joplin
John Wesley Harding – Bob Dylan
RCA Country Legends – Dolly Parton
Headhunters – Herbie Hancock
Born Under A Bad Sign – Albert King
The Real Folk Blues – Muddy Waters
The Band – The Band
Dust Bowl Ballads – Woody Guthrie

Songs

“Get Back” – Beatles
“Going Up The Country” – Canned Heat
“Midnight Rider” – Willie Nelson
“Roadhouse Blues” – Doors
“Green Onions” – Booker T. and the MG’s
“Melissa” – Allman Brothers
“Small Town” – John Mellencamp
“Black Water” – Doobie Brothers
“Can’t Find My Way Home” – Blind Faith
“Lola” – Kinks
“Your Own Sweet Way” – Notting Hillbillies
“End of the Line” – Traveling Wilburies
“Running Down A Dream” – Tom Petty
“Everybody’s Talking” – Harry Nilsson
“Ooh La La” – Faces
“Angel of Harlem” – U2
“Daughter” – Pearl Jam
“Alice’s Restaurant” – Arlo Guthrie
“Low Rider” – War
“Smoke on the Water” – Deep Purple
“Streamline Woman” – Muddy Waters
“Hear My Train A-Comin’” – Jimi Hendrix
“Sweet Jane” – Cowboy Junkies

Catch ya' on the open road!

- gypsy george.