tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85009509266874764162024-03-05T20:27:19.760-08:00TallGrassNow you. You take off your pants.
Put on this necklace.Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-67667538697573316602010-06-07T18:00:00.000-07:002010-06-07T18:12:02.129-07:00quite shornHe faced the wall, afraid to turn around. The sound had startled him awake 30 seconds ago, and he'd hoped it would just stop if he made no sudden movement. From behind he heard "what is that?" coming from his wife. <div>"Shhhh." he replied, curtly. </div><div>He slowly put his feet on the ground as he uncovered. His first step was the hardest, but he was in the hallway, lightly floating toward the origin of the noise. At the end of the hall was an invisible wall of hot, steamy air. He peered around the corner to the kitchen and saw that the kettle was coming to a boil. He looked into the living room and saw a dusty boot jutting from the back of the rocking chair, planted on the footstool. The knot in his stomach ebbed once he saw the banjo sitting on the coffee table. </div><div>"What are you doing?"</div><div>"OH, hey, I thought you were out of town."</div><div><br /></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-91662570707154885992009-12-08T12:38:00.001-08:002009-12-08T14:22:24.563-08:00i am proud.Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-39665921009356916692009-09-25T17:20:00.000-07:002009-09-25T17:25:58.240-07:00-PRESS-<div>check out the new blog: <a href="wildharebeadery.blogspot.com">Wild Hare</a></div><div><br /></div>here's some stories and photos of stuff i have done recently.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://www.theapachehouse.com/?p=617">Apache House</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://www.voicesofok.com/2009/09/dustbowl-arts-market-brings-sexy-craft-fair-to-campus-corner-w-photo-essay/">Voices of OK</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-17409488009509036232008-11-23T09:54:00.001-08:002008-11-23T09:58:27.744-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdBS2bG0HIH7MLREq5D1kyJZI9-asExwC472sPqE_3V949HStNIfbX7iy_s5AW-162-yon2O7mkSP4nfJQxlIQmS-JHSFCQxnQR7eylM4h6z-7Wx6F6p_nNbjP3xQnaz6s0PdRbBO1xm7B/s1600-h/Navajo+Indians+weaving.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdBS2bG0HIH7MLREq5D1kyJZI9-asExwC472sPqE_3V949HStNIfbX7iy_s5AW-162-yon2O7mkSP4nfJQxlIQmS-JHSFCQxnQR7eylM4h6z-7Wx6F6p_nNbjP3xQnaz6s0PdRbBO1xm7B/s400/Navajo+Indians+weaving.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271913861940596706" /></a><br />It's not as easy as you might think. <div><br /></div><div>This week has been rough. I fell in love with Pocahontas, only to find out that she has been dead for about 300 years. It's cool, though. I can get over it. I have to get over it. She's dead. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-76177102822937149842008-08-09T08:54:00.000-07:002008-08-09T09:03:54.168-07:00Duel!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mkwmKS1gbud6cUF6DJDPiJG-DjmPqCk3Ym3Cg85cUi9MHztJesGW2EA8B-aL5F5FwxN0WxyScclw9LCbngbqYeRxKWk568SSFKdQ2QBgk32k9KIHkvcaoaMCTlOUPmynXsFpHjdP1NEV/s1600-h/roadsidepicnic.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mkwmKS1gbud6cUF6DJDPiJG-DjmPqCk3Ym3Cg85cUi9MHztJesGW2EA8B-aL5F5FwxN0WxyScclw9LCbngbqYeRxKWk568SSFKdQ2QBgk32k9KIHkvcaoaMCTlOUPmynXsFpHjdP1NEV/s400/roadsidepicnic.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232549306077488802" /></a><br />"I made an album."<div><br /></div><div>"The Hamsterpiece of Modern Gentlemen"</div><div><br /></div><div>Tracks:</div><div>01. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">What did you say?</span></div><div>02. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">How many licks</span></div><div>03. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Best burgers in town</span></div><div>04. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Gavin</span></div><div>05. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Going home</span></div><div>06. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">New taste in music/women</span></div><div>07. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Let's take a cab</span></div><div>08. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">When are they coming home</span></div><div>09. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">That's expensive (I think)</span></div><div>10. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I-95, North</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-69239558371579267932008-08-02T13:03:00.000-07:002008-08-02T13:24:51.626-07:00Swivel ChairsThe daylight ceased for only a moment, then, as the rain cleared, it appeared as if the rain had never come. Of course, leaving one's room, they might expect to step out into a rain-doused, cooled and refreshing temperature, however, as soon as I had stepped out into the sunny day, I retreated to the comforts of the indoors.<br /><br /><br />Someone once said that wasting your energy to publish romance, or at least compose it, is more cowardly than telling them you love them.<br />I believe that someone was correct.<br /><br />Nothing is easier than watching stars, depending on where you are.<br /><br /><br />Dry creek beds gave us hunting grounds in summer,<br />Dead grass gave us a path in the winter,<br />Fallen leaves gave us forts in autumn,<br />Rains gave us mud in the spring.<br /><br /><br />The light left his eyes when I told him all was lost.<br /><br /><br />"I built 5 sand castles at the beach today!"<br />"That's great."<br />"Then Ryan and Trey ran down the hill and ran on top of the water!"<br />"I'm sure it only looked like they were running on top of the water."<br />"Then me and Luke went over to this part of the lake, and we could see catfish swimming, but we couldn't catch any of them."<br />"Have you ever noticed the size of Diane's boobs? They are probably the biggest things I have ever seen."<br />"Mark sure was drinking a lot of Keystone today."<br />"Yeah, I was a bit afraid to ride in the boat with him, but thankfully he wasn't driving."<br />"I've never seen anything like that! I wonder if they swim across the lake a lot, or if he is just lost"<br />"Don't go in the water when it storms like that."Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-43590007819105518122008-07-14T11:15:00.001-07:002008-12-11T11:13:39.196-08:00Happy Man<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmPFl9Myrj2yHOL4mjFkU0ue8hJdMnvX4st7vL2cyeI3YB7Mr6AnNmK1FQY2XcKw5eyR0ykQDG7MpijQHD0Hhr_yFSyPCd4PJx31Y8E2Bc9tZhyphenhyphenk-Jqb7DsY6sWHyzxcEDInHxLlKRRPW/s1600-h/katatak.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmPFl9Myrj2yHOL4mjFkU0ue8hJdMnvX4st7vL2cyeI3YB7Mr6AnNmK1FQY2XcKw5eyR0ykQDG7MpijQHD0Hhr_yFSyPCd4PJx31Y8E2Bc9tZhyphenhyphenk-Jqb7DsY6sWHyzxcEDInHxLlKRRPW/s400/katatak.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222936068020057058" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Sometimes<div>it's hard to </div><div>say goodby-</div><div>e. </div><div><br /></div><div>'Cuz, we're s-</div><div>o free, there'</div><div>s less to lose</div><div><br /></div><div>It's nowhere </div><div>new. </div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-36177648511801606492008-07-01T09:42:00.001-07:002008-07-01T10:02:38.172-07:00FlumeI inherited my laziness. I have always just been the fly on the wall, waiting for the sun to rise. I can make the sun rise. I never know when it will set. <div>Someone once told me that the key to happiness was to be happy, but I think they were lying. I miss her so much. <div><br /></div><div>---</div><div><br /></div><div>I saw her shadow on the beach today. I just watched it move across the sand like a black ghost. She walked along the shoreline, picking up stones, enjoying the bright rays of the sun. Her skin was milky white from hiding herself from the cold, spring air. Her hair lay flat and long, being pushed around by the salty wind. She fearlessly faced the warm glow of the sun and spread her arms wide-open with her eyes closed. She embraced the lovely light and the wind blew her hair to the side. She was in love again. So was I. </div><div>I watched her dance with the wind and water and sun a few moments longer until I thought my heart would burst. I laid back and enjoyed the sun for myself. She came back to the blanket we had on the beach and kissed me on the shoulder, just as the sun had. </div></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-24989761801545858252008-05-21T12:56:00.001-07:002008-05-21T13:01:04.238-07:00SandyIf it wasn't for the aching ribs, he may have been able to complete the cartwheel he had attempted. Instead, he sat slouched on a folding chair, grasping at his sides as if he was applying pressure to a deep wound at his side. His appearance may have resembled Jesus, the European version with the spear-sized hole in his side, had he not been balding, wearing sneakers, and beardless. As it was, he resembled more of a Hungarian. Was Jesus Hungarian? <div><br /></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-1259623870001043402008-05-18T19:24:00.000-07:002008-05-18T19:32:48.883-07:00Free RiderIt will only take a moment to recall that afternoon. The details are unclear, but what happened can't easily be forgotten. A man; the same height and build as you, came into the room. I turned to step out of my chair, breaking view of the man for only a moment, and when I looked back in the direction in which he had appeared, he was gone. Thinking it was you, I stepped outside to go after him, assuming the man I thought was you hadn't seen me, and left the room. Well, that's when I ran into you, right outside the door. The only thing is, your shirt was different. <div>Well, that night, as I slept, I had a dream. The dream recalled that very same afternoon, when I had assumed you walked into the room. Well, he was in my dream, smiling at me. He was wearing a different shirt than the one he had on earlier that day. This time his shirt was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. The following day, I saw the very same man, wearing a Hawaiian shirt. He was in a completely different part of town, and he looked over at me and smiled in the exact same way he had in my dream. Do you think this man is a ghost?</div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-80938665662489463662008-04-30T10:26:00.000-07:002008-04-30T10:31:52.271-07:00AgitHe was shivering in the sunlight, even through several layers. He walked with tense shoulders through the crowded streets of summer-clad girls and middle-aged tourists wearing resort clothes. He was shivering in the sunlight.Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-15594581562324579212008-03-23T19:56:00.000-07:002008-12-11T11:13:39.599-08:00Like New<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuUSP-jKVL4PpMNcdd1TpzLKquG2-pTUGpfLjk_dz_57TXFfVHtqjhUp4Aji46AWe_AlNyWfnagUK_sIuoV3tFB2iY4p-XnLrUvGCQECcivns-kFuMwTOVAU9kgRHv7MXtK0qOIKehUnx/s1600-h/p158.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuUSP-jKVL4PpMNcdd1TpzLKquG2-pTUGpfLjk_dz_57TXFfVHtqjhUp4Aji46AWe_AlNyWfnagUK_sIuoV3tFB2iY4p-XnLrUvGCQECcivns-kFuMwTOVAU9kgRHv7MXtK0qOIKehUnx/s320/p158.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181140290386351922" /></a><br />Miles and miles of shortcuts dotted through a town, when measured in circumference was no larger than four miles in total. Alleys, gardens and abandoned lots were fair game. If it was fenced, the bikes were flung over, and the riders, under. The destination was never so important as the journey and no one ever passed up an opportunity to cross a near-empty stream or ride past the shack near the edge of town, just to arrive no sooner to Jason's house than if they would have taken the streets. The bland, grey streets; well-marked and cleared. <div>The more famous shortcuts had been well-traveled by older and more experienced adventurers for many previous years. They had been named for their levels of usefulness and potential for danger. </div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-60106882591965026082008-02-20T16:21:00.000-08:002008-02-20T16:23:06.511-08:00Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-83747822348680383212008-02-15T08:38:00.000-08:002008-12-11T11:13:39.765-08:00Panda<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhU_ittr3NCnUkisYt7O1JHo3hXKPulPa-w3ONKaLOPfC7FAfA14QFvAxOi-sjUcNqW5_vgu_Ja9b3nWjkiPDUPI6UffX5brg2RfQ-y7Y7mgRCIhCs9s1YsWTBxtAaaV4_Ua3iQw4LqVD/s1600-h/ineedanapcirca1959.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhU_ittr3NCnUkisYt7O1JHo3hXKPulPa-w3ONKaLOPfC7FAfA14QFvAxOi-sjUcNqW5_vgu_Ja9b3nWjkiPDUPI6UffX5brg2RfQ-y7Y7mgRCIhCs9s1YsWTBxtAaaV4_Ua3iQw4LqVD/s320/ineedanapcirca1959.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167253756259780114" /></a><br />Beside the mirror sat a vase and a bowling pin. Every time Casey walked into his apartment, he glared at the arrangement, sitting on the mantle, with clear disapproval. He chose to ignore most aspects of his apartment and focus only on the things he approved and also his bedroom. His desire to change his personal space into a zen palace had not become fully realized in the eight months he had lived there. <div>Living with people was more difficult than he had expected it to be. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>He shook the hands of all who came to hear him speak. All ten of the audience members purchased his book out of pure interest. Many of the members of the audience were just looking for a place to sit and read within the bookstore, not realizing that they had volunteered themselves as willing members of a public reading. The author read several excerpts from his life's work; a fiction inspired by a small truth. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500950926687476416.post-18177352882388489402008-02-07T11:27:00.000-08:002008-12-11T11:13:39.981-08:00What Isn't Nature<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZty5ipxXz4CbN1Wk4er3Q47EZ3pVJpVQnR216f0VPVFxjW6br0_qUUdwVO4MnqagxynB4PNPfPbZWqMK3gFK2fanQk6o7B1VdOhR1bpcbv3vV2nFnnCLEtqOjzKwAmrUuv5raoAdBZRl/s1600-h/abandonedbbq.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZty5ipxXz4CbN1Wk4er3Q47EZ3pVJpVQnR216f0VPVFxjW6br0_qUUdwVO4MnqagxynB4PNPfPbZWqMK3gFK2fanQk6o7B1VdOhR1bpcbv3vV2nFnnCLEtqOjzKwAmrUuv5raoAdBZRl/s320/abandonedbbq.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164328217238047922" /></a><br />She whistled in the wind. She made a castle to remember that day. I stood and watched. She was so beautiful and free. She jumped and ran. Sometimes I didn't see her for hours, but she always returned, holding something beautiful in her cupped hands. Happiness brimmed from her sparkling, blue eyes. I cracked a small, sideways grin, then wiped the dirt from her face. <div> </div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Tank Tophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10339448238368692207noreply@blogger.com0