soup

o’ carpoolers, alles hat ein ende,
nur die wurst hat zwei!
that piece of crap has a flat tire.
my registration’s expired,
and we get off at the same time.

i’d love you forever
if you could give me
a ride home.

my sister’s out of town.
the fan belt’s making funny sounds,
and you’re going my way, anway.

i’d love you forever
if you could give me
a ride home.

we just put it in the shop.
right now it’s on concrete blocks.
come on, i’ll pay half of your gas.

i’d love you forever
if you could give me
a ride home.

i can’t afford a taxi cab,
and the bus just makes me really sad.
what if i treat you to dinner?

i’d love you forever
if you could give me
a ride home.

traffic can be such a pain,
but not in the carpool lane.
and maybe we could start talking raise.

i’d love you forever
if you could give me
a ride home.

subgum egg foo young
we’ve scooted our chairs closer together
and are discussing file-naming conventions
and organization.
we had chinese for lunch,
the whole gang.
i had the kung pao shrimp
(fine, it was sweet and sour chicken).
i decide now’s a good time
to open my fortune cookie
(and not my 401K).
it says,

your work interests can
capture the highest status
of prestige.

what the hell does that mean?
confused, i bite into the cookie
and enjoy it the same way
i enjoy my work (interests).
then, i eat the fortune, too,
just so it knows who’s boss.

highlight
that saying,
“my kids love it;
they play that thing for hours.”
as i’m sitting here in my cubicle,
using the highlight tool in excel
to make pretty pictures,
i keep thinking about it
(or a variation of it).
at the risk of revealing something about myself,
i’ll say,
there aren’t too many things
that i can do for hours
and still enjoy.
of course, there are always exceptions.
a really good springsteen concert
comes to mind,
or watching a brace of baby ducks cross the street.
things like that.

the beer
i’ve been drinking,
and there’s this beer bottle
that i’m pretty sure
i can keep balanced on my head
being kept balanced on my head.
sometimes, when i get like this,
i try to express myself,
but i shouldn’t.
to be honest,
the only way i’ve ever really been able
to express myself
is through old mix tapes from high school.
ninety minutes,
that’s all you get.
side one ends mid-song,
mid-chorus,
and side two starts up
with us already deep into the third verse.

here, now, though,
sitting on some stranger’s couch,
i want more.
i want the full one-twenty.
i want it to be us versus the world,
me and the beer bottle balancing on my head.
but there is no world.
there are just groups of people
trying to do right by you
and either succeeding or failing
depending on how you’re feeling
at the time.

so, if i’ve ever spilled beer on your couch,
i’m sorry.

this is the first of what i hope will be a long run of my new daily (nope) series entitled “what are dogs really thinking?”

the machine
what the hell?
you promised me quality leads here.
these are shit leads.
these are old leads.
fucking leads, man.
can’t you see what–
don’t you understand–
is this–
you see–
if you’d just–
the fucking leads.
what am i supposed to–
and why?
oh, fuck you.
when i get my hands–
i swear–
what is this?
fuck you.
fucking leads, man.
after all these years–
and i was–
big deal!
better than–
fuck you all!
do you hear–
nope.
these are dead leads.
dead!
you son of a–
look–
look, i’m–
i’m not a–
i’m just not, okay?
now, listen–
i’m certain that if you would–
this one time–
i really–
just give me–
i need a–
okay.
what are we talking about here?
what are we really talking about?
come on–
what’s the problem, pal?
what the fuck are we–
that’s right.
the fucking leads.
can’t we at least agree about it’s the fucking leads?

i updated the writing section. if you want to copyright infringe, i don’t mind.

also, (old) comics.

b-more
a lifetime of twelve-month leases,
dreams of grocery shopping in an armored car,
watching schindler’s list
and accident’ly calling him oskar fiddler–
have you seen the new season of the wire?

the snow still falls,
a drunk old girlfriend calls,
comedians are still making yogi bear jokes
and observations–
have you seen the new season of the wire?

fat guy in a little coat,
remember? fat guy in a little coat,
remember.
isn’t there enough pain in the w–
have you seen the new season of the wire?

terrible. just terrible.

high above me
blasting tal bachman on my radio.
the best thing about this new job is that
it comes with a company car.
the only problem:
people tend to think i’m a student driver.
i’m not sure why.
there are two brake pedals,
one for them and one for me.
i can only hope that for once in my life
i’ll actually teach someone how to drive,
rather than just going through the motions
and thinking about the $.

She calls to speak to me
I freeze immediately
Cause what she says sounds so unreal
Cause somehow I can’t believe
That anything should happen
I know where I belong
And nothin’s going to happen
hey-hey yeah yeah