Wednesday, June 04, 2003
Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,
Engines pumping and thumping in time.
The green light flashes, the flags goes up,
Churning and burning, they yern for the cup.
They deftly manouver and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank,
Wreckless and wild they pour thru the turns,
Their prowless is podent and secretly stern.
As they speed thru the finish the flags go down.
The fans get up, and get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup,
But he's driving and striving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone, all alone in her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He's going the distance.
Yeah!
No trophy, no flowers, no flash bulbs, no wine.
He's haunted by something he cannot define.
Bowel shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse,
Assail him, impale him with monster truck force.
In his mind he's still driving, still making the grade.
She's hoping time that her memories will fade,
Cause he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's striving and driving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.
Cause he's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone, all alone in her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's figting and biting and riding on his horse,
He's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's figting and biting and riding on his horse!
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
He's going the distance...
Engines pumping and thumping in time.
The green light flashes, the flags goes up,
Churning and burning, they yern for the cup.
They deftly manouver and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank,
Wreckless and wild they pour thru the turns,
Their prowless is podent and secretly stern.
As they speed thru the finish the flags go down.
The fans get up, and get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup,
But he's driving and striving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone, all alone in her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He's going the distance.
Yeah!
No trophy, no flowers, no flash bulbs, no wine.
He's haunted by something he cannot define.
Bowel shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse,
Assail him, impale him with monster truck force.
In his mind he's still driving, still making the grade.
She's hoping time that her memories will fade,
Cause he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's striving and driving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.
Cause he's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone, all alone in her time of need.
Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's figting and biting and riding on his horse,
He's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's figting and biting and riding on his horse!
He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
He's going the distance...
Tuesday, June 03, 2003
i want a nice house. i watch HGTV constantly along with most current home makeover in a day/weeknd surprize/whileyouwerout/cribcrashed/youdidn't knowiwasgoingtoremakeourliving/bed/bathroom/kitchen. and now i must add monster house to the list. i really don't know why i watch these things but i do. i have from time to time implemented ideas i have seen on these shows into my house, but rarely i have the money or take the time to make the kitchy/crafty things.
i want a house with soft blue and grey walls, beige and green. i want a house that looks like a movie. i want to live the "good life". but i live in the barrio, and i rent. so i don't want to do anything to the house that i can't take with me or will cost too much. i am also reluctant to put money into a house that i know i will never get back. even if it was my own house, the neighborhood i live in will not bear the level of living i desire. concrete and stone,chrome and stainless steel, dark wood and plush upholstry. the neighborhood would accept the nice oak cabinets that my landlord installed, but not the cherry craftsman style with glass fronts i desire, or do i want maple?
i miss my old house terribly. i miss the feeling of the cold slate under my feet in the morning. the cool tile under my hand as i lean on the counter and peer out my window pondering the days upcoming activities. the warm, soft, well worn wood flooring in the living room. the soft green walls and linen curtains.
i miss living in a neighborhood that would appreciate the improvements i make to a home. not the neighborhood where gangster wannabes hang out across my street drinking 40's and wishing they were cool. (i wonder if they like Eminem?) i miss living in a respected and desireable neighborhood,instead of the established one i now reside. i may be painting a bleak picture of my surroundings. i live amongst hard working people. people who love their home and do the best they can. many of whom will never know monetary wealth, for whom everyday is a struggle to make a better life for themselves and their children. people like me. who are doing the best they can the best way they know how. good people. however they try the will never get beyond this barrio/barrier.
will i? i don't know. i yearn to break free, yet i can't seem to get far enough to even see what it is i'm trying to break away to.
i desire to have the pleasure of home ownership again.
for cool stone floors and warm inviting walls. a place to call home.
i want a house with soft blue and grey walls, beige and green. i want a house that looks like a movie. i want to live the "good life". but i live in the barrio, and i rent. so i don't want to do anything to the house that i can't take with me or will cost too much. i am also reluctant to put money into a house that i know i will never get back. even if it was my own house, the neighborhood i live in will not bear the level of living i desire. concrete and stone,chrome and stainless steel, dark wood and plush upholstry. the neighborhood would accept the nice oak cabinets that my landlord installed, but not the cherry craftsman style with glass fronts i desire, or do i want maple?
i miss my old house terribly. i miss the feeling of the cold slate under my feet in the morning. the cool tile under my hand as i lean on the counter and peer out my window pondering the days upcoming activities. the warm, soft, well worn wood flooring in the living room. the soft green walls and linen curtains.
i miss living in a neighborhood that would appreciate the improvements i make to a home. not the neighborhood where gangster wannabes hang out across my street drinking 40's and wishing they were cool. (i wonder if they like Eminem?) i miss living in a respected and desireable neighborhood,instead of the established one i now reside. i may be painting a bleak picture of my surroundings. i live amongst hard working people. people who love their home and do the best they can. many of whom will never know monetary wealth, for whom everyday is a struggle to make a better life for themselves and their children. people like me. who are doing the best they can the best way they know how. good people. however they try the will never get beyond this barrio/barrier.
will i? i don't know. i yearn to break free, yet i can't seem to get far enough to even see what it is i'm trying to break away to.
i desire to have the pleasure of home ownership again.
for cool stone floors and warm inviting walls. a place to call home.
woke up quick, at about noon.............
well i didn't have to be in compton but my head was all stuffy and my nose was running pretty good. and well i knew i should take some medicine to make me feel better. so i got up and well i left the cold medicine in my truck, all i can say is damn was it bright this morning. damn near blinded me walking to my truck. oh well got the goods and now i'm back inside. i took the pills, but i'm not feeling as good as normal when i'm sick and take them.
well i didn't have to be in compton but my head was all stuffy and my nose was running pretty good. and well i knew i should take some medicine to make me feel better. so i got up and well i left the cold medicine in my truck, all i can say is damn was it bright this morning. damn near blinded me walking to my truck. oh well got the goods and now i'm back inside. i took the pills, but i'm not feeling as good as normal when i'm sick and take them.
Monday, June 02, 2003
as he entered the dark garage he confidently walked to his bike, zipping up his jacket and putting on his gloves. he swung one leg over the seat and fumbled with the key switch, it stuck from time to time and required a light touch to make it turn. once the ignition was turned on, he reached down and tickled each carburator to give a little extra gas for starting. reaching down with his right hand he pulled the kick starting pedal out with a reassuring click letting him know it was firmly locked into place. he picked up his heavy boot from the cool damp pavement below bringing it to rest on the kicker. in one fluid motion he twisted open the throttle and brought his weight to bear on the quiet engine. in the same instant the engine roared to life. while letting the bike gently warm he double checked his gloves and cinched his jacket a little tighter, adjusted his wieght on the machine, and slid his dark glasses down over his eyes. after returning the kicker pedal to its home postion, he moved the transmission into 1st gear. while letting the clutch out with one hand he began to accelerate with the other, out of the garage into the street and gone into the bright sunshine, the exhaust rising and falling with the shifting of gears, fading into the day.