Monday, October 13, 2008

Words and music by Chad VanGaalen

I think I'll go sit by the river
Just to get away for a while

Like jumping off of the water

And time, it aligned, is swirling and swimming

Clouds rolling over themselves

Twisting and boiling and growing out of nothing

The hills bitten off at the edge

And the whiskers and the tails

Running round

Running running round

I think I'll go sit by the river

Just to get away for a while

Listen to the conversations

Eavesdroppin' on the whiskeyjacks and the wax men

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle mask

Sunk into the rocks plastic face half buried

The stone bottom bumps out a rhythm

It sings the same song

That it's always been singing

Think I'll go sit by the river

Just to get outside of my mind

I'm wishing I could stay here forever

But the river won't stay that long
it's moving on.

Shopping cart stuck on an island

Stranded in the middle getting hotter and thirsty

Not really moving just waiting

For this water to rise up again

And pull me along

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Via the NYT:

"Martin J. Whitman, a professional investor for more than 50 years, said that as long as economies worldwide could avoid an outright depression, stocks were amazingly cheap. Mr. Whitman manages the $6 billion Third Avenue Value fund, which returned 10.2 percent annually for the 15 years that ended Sept. 30, almost two percentage points a year better than the S.& P. 500 index. The fund is down 46 percent this year.

'This is the opportunity of a lifetime,' Mr. Whitman said. 'The most important securities are being given away.'"

Green half-moons of lime repeatedly stabbed with a kitchen knife and left to sink down, the citrus oils rising in long smoky coils through the clearer tonic.

"All this time looking for love and you want to find peace but you find me."

Dusty blue sunlight cut by the park's yellow trees. The clatter of the bus' poles swinging free of the trolley-wires, the resigned-looking driver donning orange safety vest and gloves to fish the poles back up onto the wires. Brief spark-shower.

The Chinese pentecostal church letting out, little constellations of middle-aged folks in Sunday dress clutching bibles and flapping paper handouts.

Clark Drive's warehouses and sidewalks empty in the sun.

Voices From The Street

Overheard by Keith around the corner at Budgie's just now:

Q: What's the difference between jelly and jam?

A: I can't "jelly" my cock in your ass.

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