if you havent already, you have to check out this new show from HBO...Flight of the Conchords.
its the office meets napolean dynamite meets seinfeld. its hilarious.
www.hbo.com/conchords/about/index.html
Friday, May 30, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
ren is waiting for his peeps
keith and crew have been working countless hours in the last few weeks to get ready for the upcoming events here on the site...(including ours). just wanted to show pictures of the progress and for those who havent been here...a preview. cant wait to see you all.
ren waving
party lanterns
the fire pit area
general splendor...
swmming hole and beach
mulched paths for tents
pinic area and tiki torches
the new shed...concession stand and future bathrooms
ren waving
party lanterns
the fire pit area
general splendor...
swmming hole and beach
mulched paths for tents
pinic area and tiki torches
the new shed...concession stand and future bathrooms
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
why shouldn't i vote for _______?
if i were to predict something,
it would be something obvious.
it would be something you might predict.
senator clinton will suspend her campaign in the near future.
barack obama, the imminent nominee, will be the democratic candidate, for now.
mr. mccain might win the election.
and then there were three.
i would ask myself to give one good reason why i would not vote for any one of the three.
one good reason why not.
why wouldn't you vote for one of three?
i will give you mine.
i wouldn't vote for hillary because of the obvious reasons, as mccain.
i wouldn't vote for barack also because of the obvious reasons.
ha ha
seriously, i wouldn't vote for obama because he summarily denounced some things that the reverend wright said, which he shouldn't have denounced without exploring exactly what it was that the reverend said which offended him, and saying what it was about said things, which couldn't be true. bla bla
i wouldn't vote for hillary for the same reason i wouldn't vote for john. they both cannot share their allegiance both with me and that other thing they are aligned with.
what is the best reason you could give me why i shouldn't vote for your candidate?
it would be something obvious.
it would be something you might predict.
senator clinton will suspend her campaign in the near future.
barack obama, the imminent nominee, will be the democratic candidate, for now.
mr. mccain might win the election.
and then there were three.
i would ask myself to give one good reason why i would not vote for any one of the three.
one good reason why not.
why wouldn't you vote for one of three?
i will give you mine.
i wouldn't vote for hillary because of the obvious reasons, as mccain.
i wouldn't vote for barack also because of the obvious reasons.
ha ha
seriously, i wouldn't vote for obama because he summarily denounced some things that the reverend wright said, which he shouldn't have denounced without exploring exactly what it was that the reverend said which offended him, and saying what it was about said things, which couldn't be true. bla bla
i wouldn't vote for hillary for the same reason i wouldn't vote for john. they both cannot share their allegiance both with me and that other thing they are aligned with.
what is the best reason you could give me why i shouldn't vote for your candidate?
Friday, May 9, 2008
Suffrage (my first sonnet)
The meadowlark inside her throat, so long
She offers yellow to a morning wind
A jester-warble while the sun begins
Its rise above the sound of barking dogs
Her beak drawn back, irreverent grin she’ll stalk
The smallest chuckle hidden in the grass
Like insects wet from sprinklers’ morning laps
She’ll gargle dawn, go shameless in her walk
Why does she laugh when mourning dove will cry?
A milk-toned coo released from slender flute
Toward epiphany such bruises held
No golden bellow here, their pantomime
Like one and one make something out of two
This morning’s songs will mingle in the field
She offers yellow to a morning wind
A jester-warble while the sun begins
Its rise above the sound of barking dogs
Her beak drawn back, irreverent grin she’ll stalk
The smallest chuckle hidden in the grass
Like insects wet from sprinklers’ morning laps
She’ll gargle dawn, go shameless in her walk
Why does she laugh when mourning dove will cry?
A milk-toned coo released from slender flute
Toward epiphany such bruises held
No golden bellow here, their pantomime
Like one and one make something out of two
This morning’s songs will mingle in the field
Thursday, May 8, 2008
good yellow, pale
good yellow, pale
there is much of she
in that yellow rhododendron bloom.
look down into the garden bed,
see how every bloom
lays upon the twilight air.
every time i see that shade of yellow,
i see the soft pedal;
you would wish to see it,
wish to see how every flower,
co-insides with her aesthetic meaning.
each is subtle soft white skin,
each holds the shade;
the golden light of middle spring butterfly wing,
tucks and seals the hue
as it is made.
the stolen light, sifts
this time on the rippled fingers of her touch.
a tender mouth,
has electric softeners,
it molds and preys, at times.
the courtyard greyii, senicio
two toned, a kiss
waits upon its own,
has a two level lift.
with the hybrid sunshine,
the four oceans at my feet.
wait upon you,
with your soul, my hand upon your cheek,
eyes meet, soul hardens,
as the humid air unsweats
the precious pod to perfect ripeness.
the river water makes down the cress,
lush, whole, seeded with the spicy avolander.
the heart of darkness, shed a light on.
the whole system in the breast
the sweet smell of breath,
and the way she would writhe, and moan;
how would angels sing of god
or men at any less a loan.
the good native snowberries,
with their flat and hovering leaves,
flatter the wind,
hold their shape in that refined logic
which holds together simple to immaculate.
the whole course of she to he
is causeway, byway,
the shoulder on the road would grow a certain grass,
or her subtle pass.
how wholesome and how intricate.
the soft subtle rhododendron flower,
yellow, full of hope.
the course slow,
day upon night,
it slumbers, nourished;
it knows that admiration,
the seer would entreat.
the chickadee or finch,
has a certain liker,
as she continues with her kind;
knows a certain nest,
a good yellow, pale.
he has been there with his mate.
they circulate and chatter,
then fly their bodies close, sail
as that which makes the fire hot,
in the sorrow of that scented mourning dove.
you or that sweet flower,
she or the woman that you love.
how are the pine needles situated?
do they fall with the wind's harbored holdouts?
as the tea leaves linger on the bottom of your bowl,
the angels of your destiny would
say the obvious first:
oh, she is beauty.
and truth.
and also love.
the seven stars of that large ladel
shine, have upon their rim,
the beginning light form, brimming of,
as good, yellow, pale, dim,.
your watership is loft in time,
and hailing railroad lights are shining.
the soft trail moon, wanes,
and is aloft upon the light
of that yellow rhododendron,
with her flowers,
and their shade.
rrzollinger
C 2008
there is much of she
in that yellow rhododendron bloom.
look down into the garden bed,
see how every bloom
lays upon the twilight air.
every time i see that shade of yellow,
i see the soft pedal;
you would wish to see it,
wish to see how every flower,
co-insides with her aesthetic meaning.
each is subtle soft white skin,
each holds the shade;
the golden light of middle spring butterfly wing,
tucks and seals the hue
as it is made.
the stolen light, sifts
this time on the rippled fingers of her touch.
a tender mouth,
has electric softeners,
it molds and preys, at times.
the courtyard greyii, senicio
two toned, a kiss
waits upon its own,
has a two level lift.
with the hybrid sunshine,
the four oceans at my feet.
wait upon you,
with your soul, my hand upon your cheek,
eyes meet, soul hardens,
as the humid air unsweats
the precious pod to perfect ripeness.
the river water makes down the cress,
lush, whole, seeded with the spicy avolander.
the heart of darkness, shed a light on.
the whole system in the breast
the sweet smell of breath,
and the way she would writhe, and moan;
how would angels sing of god
or men at any less a loan.
the good native snowberries,
with their flat and hovering leaves,
flatter the wind,
hold their shape in that refined logic
which holds together simple to immaculate.
the whole course of she to he
is causeway, byway,
the shoulder on the road would grow a certain grass,
or her subtle pass.
how wholesome and how intricate.
the soft subtle rhododendron flower,
yellow, full of hope.
the course slow,
day upon night,
it slumbers, nourished;
it knows that admiration,
the seer would entreat.
the chickadee or finch,
has a certain liker,
as she continues with her kind;
knows a certain nest,
a good yellow, pale.
he has been there with his mate.
they circulate and chatter,
then fly their bodies close, sail
as that which makes the fire hot,
in the sorrow of that scented mourning dove.
you or that sweet flower,
she or the woman that you love.
how are the pine needles situated?
do they fall with the wind's harbored holdouts?
as the tea leaves linger on the bottom of your bowl,
the angels of your destiny would
say the obvious first:
oh, she is beauty.
and truth.
and also love.
the seven stars of that large ladel
shine, have upon their rim,
the beginning light form, brimming of,
as good, yellow, pale, dim,.
your watership is loft in time,
and hailing railroad lights are shining.
the soft trail moon, wanes,
and is aloft upon the light
of that yellow rhododendron,
with her flowers,
and their shade.
rrzollinger
C 2008
blackbeard's blackbird
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
Birthday and Colt
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)