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October 10, 2005
My favorite kitchen guru and true blue tribe friend! I look forward to every thoughtful letter I get in my mailbox. He brightens my days and makes me smile without fail. I'm so lucky to have him!
Steve
There are a lot of kind people hereI am amazed at the generous nature of most tribe members that I've encountered thus far. They're willing to share their experiences in life and their knowledge freely with me. If my two cents can feed this family of friends half as well in return, yet another cool thing will have occurred in my life.
Passionate minds at work
cool tribes
Nice places to visit
Cause for pauseGender
Male
Age
52
Location
about me
I try hard and am truly interested, though not the brightest bulb under the shade.
To bring a dead music to life is the among the most erotic feelings I know of. Loving the kitchen and feeding my loved ones go hand in hand with my pleasure. Being honest to myself at all times has always been, and will remain the best policy.
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My TestimonialsJune 12, 2005
WE HAAAAAVE A WINNER! hehe*
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what was, is
I'm still a running blur.
My guts strung out Sunk on the table an old melon draws gnats with its heady putrefying scent. So much like you melodramatically flopped, accenting my sofa- Sloshed and complimenting with an assured seriousness, your martini’s olive.  Once lived two boys, Omar and Hassain, in a village at the foot of a great mountain. Passing by it one day, the notion to climb passed through their heads. It was said by elders in the village to be a mountain of God, and in climbing to its top one could hear his voice. And so the two set out. It wasn’t long when the littler of the two, Hassain, grew weary. His small legs trembled. Having rested several times, it was decided between them to return some day when he was a bit older and... read more  “You knew the job was dangerous when you took it Fred.” - Super Chicken Whew! First pension down and I start the new job today if I want. Boss said he’d understand if I needed to decompress after working like a dog for so many years. Guess he understands the Phone Company. Anyway, I went in day before yesterday and they (ATT) had posted notice that we’d not be getting our team award (bonus) this year, due to under performance and tough times. How typical I thought. Never mind they’d post... read more  The purple fuzzy pile purred at me as I walked by. Good Lord, did one wink as well? “Sweet, delicious fruit, fresh and juicy, the best that money can buy!” The squat round-faced man behind the counter hadn’t answered my question. “Yes, but what are they?” I repeated a second time. “They’re unlike anything else,” he continued eagerly unabated. “Filled with all the wonders and goodness one could ever desire in a fruit, but so indescribably delicate and evasive to the palate. C... read more 
“Tom! Hey Tom, where’d you put the gun?” I heard Jeffee call from out back. Bein’ a lazy butt Saturday mornin’ I only want to roll over and stuff the pillow up my ears. But friends are friends right? I shouted from where I was laid out, “Where you left it ya big doofus!”
Fri, January 30, 2009 - 7:59 PM
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“And where’s that?” he yelled back. I stretched looking up at the yellow-brown, rain stained, ceiling. “Well, why don't you go check up in the fort.” Rusted boards nailed two years back squawked as he clim... read more  Friend, Paul, I need of you a soul lain bare. Since her passing I have made love to my pillow, lonely. When I cry into its folds wondering why God has taken her, a violent shaking occurs within. I wonder at its meaning, and us. Sighing heavy into the dark night, I think about the smells, the wetness of her hair after love, and of what you've left inside. Friend, I knew long of your loving her, and, I approved. Seeing your eyes seep into hers on Christmas day broke my heart. It br... read more  Ah, my dear Bettie- brilliant light fades away, how I will miss you.  So late the day, and suddenly tomorrow’s blazed before- a rising sun that bids farewell the moon’s enraptured roar.  Decapitation: Swift blade severs head; there's steam comes from the basket.  Cold at this hydrant it smells of politicians, even after words. 
It started like any other evening with Emily bringing me tea. Cold with lemon and just the right sweet- she handed it to me landing a kiss. She glanced at my blank notebook and yellow pencil silent on the page, questioning nothing.
Wed, October 8, 2008 - 12:15 AM
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She’d replaced the Bermuda two months ago with Buffalo grass, it bordered on a wilderness that we both tended to like at times, and so I questioned her, “Em, don’t you just love all this green?” Pausing after refilling her jelly jar, she looked around, “Yes, ... read more 
Coyote slings the rat up in the air. It is dead, but coyote still plays. It drops to the ground. Coyote ruffs at it. It stays there and coyote ruffs again. Then coyote whines, cocks his head, sniffs the rat and eats.
Sun, September 28, 2008 - 7:11 AM
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Licking his lips, coyote runs over to the brush-pile again. Ears perk up_ listen. Nothing that you could ever hear, but coyote does. He hears. Springs coil in his haunches. Coyote leaps high, and wiggles through the ground cover grabbing another rat. In the shadows of a de... read more 
The baby was crying. She couldn’t go to it. She didn’t have the time. Held at bay, cornered in the kitchen, two young hooligans stood hands up staring down double barrels. Behind Sarah, her twelve-year old son Ryan put the phone receiver on the table. He wiggled his shoulders tight, “She says it’ll be a couple minutes till they get here, but to go ahead and talk, she says, and 'yes' she can hear you.”
Sat, September 27, 2008 - 12:12 PM
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“Ryan, you take Jenny and see what Charlie wants- Jenny, go with Ryan.” Taking his nine... read more  That we share our fleas as old dogs is quite enough, you may keep your worms.  If one could but see, it’s a desolate landscape framed by the wintered Sakhalin forest. We trudge toward our destination at night. There is the hard crunch of cold snow made by feet. A scream, a woman’s scream splits the night, echoing in the dry air. Approaching a hissing gas lamp, see, that yes, indeed there is much snow, snow dirtied by soot and street. Enter into the gray brick building below this dim glow: the hospital. Down long tiled antiseptic corridors and encounter a man pacing. H... read more 
I see in myself momentarily mirrored:
Sun, May 11, 2008 - 6:59 PM
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A pair of naked yearning eyes succumbed to that beautiful self, flawed, indecent of character. Fancy dancing the pinkest groan, ecstatically jumping an honest bone, enwrapped in the most violent of tangos- she tosses the last flower away. 
Tortoise, with nails gray-brown that had toughened each day of his many long lived, till one day he thought of them “My nails are hard; yes, yes they are the toughest ever crawled upon” and so, it was with that thought he set out to challenge life.
Sun, April 6, 2008 - 8:23 PM
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“This shell is a fortress hardened by tribulation, thus I am strong; I will persevere.” At first, small pebbles merely parted as he shuffled his slow way forward. Gradually though, over time, much larger stones also creaked and groaned at hi... read more 
Hung apple
Wed, March 12, 2008 - 1:44 PM
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haste in weight, of sun’s most radiant slide, gold rays aplenty taste you then, to fill Eve’s knowing eyes. That darkly storm-clouds' gathering, indifferent tossed their rhythm; a rainbow - hope, outside the land of God, new fruit is given. 
Inevitable
Mon, March 3, 2008 - 11:52 AM
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as sunrise changes profound, through day older eyes.  The days were the days, not those that I knew, but of scent and in hues quite familiar. 
What price the pound of flesh then
Wed, January 30, 2008 - 4:57 PM
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when offered on the street, that in like of herring or tasty kidney meat? Should she twine her hair 'round and coo you with her voice, what price the pound of flesh then when mounting that of choice? 
Some folks
Mon, January 28, 2008 - 9:08 PM
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eat Roo, do you? Some folks judge others too, but do you? And when it’s spilt, milk will run downhill; To find a honeyed place inside that nook to hide and still… Some folks rue their food, Well, do you?  The stiffening, quickening heartbeat of disemboweled thoughts pound. They race hot like hurried nasty teen sex; coming out sticky and grinning at silly creation, with all the moon-pie eyes of God on a good day.  “The Hymn to God” he painted, the fishes they do sing; of silent voices in the depths, and beauty’s subtle theme. 
An indifferent breeze dries
Thu, October 11, 2007 - 11:11 PM
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the ragged clothes of longing; combating aching bones, home, my house- and possessions. High spirits sent zagging haphazard into a blue sky, silhouetted easily, a dancing butterfly in the rippling grasses. Overwhelmed (serve me this scene), a time when even thick thorned roses weep. I take my softened heart thinking now of colder winters, and that longing for a field’s flowers with mud between my toes, I knew then they kept me from that ma... read more  I’ve only a while to make you smile bright. Might a hop, skip, or small jump do for you, when I am but memory and through here? A bee trapped in the window looks out …  I wanna be the red skin. I wanna be the martyr, hung up, nailed, shot like coyote. Roped to the hood of a ‘52 Chevy; a downed deer rolling eyes and sticking tongue at everyone that stares. I wanna be the Injun layin dead in the dirt, beneath your cork gun. That would be so cool. Tay ya. If only I weren’t so white. I wanna have eagle feathers hangin from my head, wear buckskin britches. (I wonder if my balls would sweat, or be cooled hanging free?) Tommy g... read more 
This is a little story. The kind of story that close friends and family once told each other late at night when there was little else to do. It takes place in a little room, much like one I’m sure you’ve sat in before. A room so small, that a ticking clock can be heard if you are silent for but a moment. But this story isn’t about a clock; or is it about the little grandmama who never remembered to wind it. No, not really. Here then, let me tell what it ‘is’ about.
Wed, August 15, 2007 - 11:45 AM
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For years, rising w... read more 
It was an old white washed church typical of those found in the South- in the parking lot, the minister stood outside waiting as the congregation gathered. When everyone had arrived he invited his flock to pick a handful of blackberries from the bushes that surrounded the church grounds. It was to be a lesson, a favorite that he recited often.
Sun, July 29, 2007 - 9:50 PM
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Inside the stained glass windows had been draped, and once all were seated, the lights were turned off. The pastor instructed each of us to pass a ... read more  A flea bitten, moldering, good for nothing mooch. All but deaf she loudly screams: “Feed me! Feed me! Feed me!” at my front door, too good to go to the back porch where her dish is. “Yeah, I can hear you already.” Can opener grinds its way to stinky food. Plopped from the can, the engine is off and running. Scratching her behind her ears while she’s too busy to notice and run away. I wonder how many more years she’ll stick around before moving to New Jersey or wherever t... read more
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