2022 November 21

Finished my daily two-dimensional box, time to write
my daily two-dimensional poem
Width my dimension lacking, some would argue depth, I say, Death
to the Either/Or, my gag and epitaph.
I divorced the life of juicing stories and limited my experiential interactions unless
I lie, I’ve tried, I try, I can’t, am a ham liar
Worry stone daily, hollowing, not widening, the thumb niche

2022 November 18

I am the only Jeff I know.
I meet other Jeffs often
through work or Subaru
service managers who
insist their name is Jeffrey,
please don’t confuse me
with them, I’m not a James
who hates Jim or a Charles
who hates Charlie or a Robert
who hates Bob or a Margaret
who hates Peggy or a William
who hates Billy or a Stephen
Steve or Michael Mike
or David Dave or Edward Ted
or Eddie. Please call me Jeff.
I’m the only one I know.

2022 November 15

Should I write about my marriage at some point? Is this
tonight’s poem? It better be. I love her when I’m with her I
love me most when I’m alone. I’ve tried to make that not
true. She is not here with me now while I write this
poem and I will not show her the poem and I’ve never
asked her to read any of my poems. Tomorrow we hike
the Appalachian Trail through blooming mountain laurels

2022 October 14


*		*****
You only *thought* the local helmetball team’s owner was a despicable shitsmear*
*Reminder: helmetball, and your slavish devotion to it, the finest metaphor for Shitlordistan
Reminder: my obsession is with the shitlord that owns my local helmetball team until recently named the Racial Slurs, one that started when the shitlord illegally cut down trees on National Park C&O Canal land to get a better view of the Potomac from his mansion, I thought, this is a smear worth watching (plus the helmetball as best metaphor part, the local team named the Racial Slurs)*
*The ex-slurs play in an hour from when I type this, I read that for the first time in their long history the Bears will wear orange helmets, reminder, I’m obsessed with uniforms, thank you Paul Fussell, while the helmetball game is starting I’ll walk up one flight of stairs and find GT1900 .F87 2002 and reread
The local helmetball ball team, whose identity color is burgundy (but not burgundy, halfway between crimson and burgundy) and has new uniforms did not wear burgundy as primary color (in fact, wore mono-black from top to bottom first) until their 5th game because they are the local helmetball team once known (and still called by exactly the helmetball fan you’d expect the Racial Slurs) (for correct colors, see orb below)*
*It will take twenty-four of thirty-two of shitlords who own more precious than all eight yachts, nine houses, two Lear jets, to own one Helmetball, Inc franchise, thirty-two only, an NFL team’s a shitlord’s ultimate club ring
Marie, hiking with us last Sunday, says to me, you sound like them talking about you when you talk about them. She told me she can’t believe that crackers believe what they say, fentynyl in halloween candy, and I said, lies in the service of truth are truth to the faithful, embedded in daily prayers. O god, said 99. I have been a cracker bigot since 1973, I continued, first introduced in the seventh grade by future farmers of america (and offensive linesmen) to cracker practice and, yes, forgive me my role as antifa member 86 (married to 99), I’m giving away free fentynyl Halloween night. Marie laughed! 99 sighed*
*Reminder: every penny of rent shitlords squeeze from immiserating the help divided equally between investing in new and improved sadistic models of immiserating the help and a sociopathic determination to out-shitlord all shitlords in what the accumulation for accumulations’s score, their faith holds dear the zero-sum game as god’s table
*Assuming I’m murdered, will it be a cracker or an officially deputized cracker? Gambling problem? Call 1-800-GAMBLER
******

2022 October Whatever

Just ordered from Marshall Street:

  • Champion Sidewinder, 169g, orange
  • DX Sidewinder, 167g, pink
  • XT Dart, 169g, purple
  • DX Leopard, 167g, white

We’ve hired a handyman to fix shit we can’t and L disappeared my first five discs of choice and second five discs of choice compacting, I played Seneca Monday with a Star Beast, DX Leopard (love, love love, dope), Champion Roc, DX Wolf, Champ Aviar dug out of a box in the trunk of my car when I normally Champion Sidewinder, Champion Leopard, Champion Roc, DX Wolf, XT Dart, the same model Roc and Wolf in box for reasons (weight, hex, respectively), and I played happy enough to suck spectacularly next time but I did not go OB once much less need creek fish for disc, nine 3s, four 5s, fourteen 4s, Seneca still 2/5ths in A, birdie 13 while you can, the only thing I choose to do than disc golf is hike with L

Screen shot of fitness band I complicitously let map my movements, all 27 holes!

Feels like I’ve stopped painting

2022 September 21

*

  1. Not reminded myself lately outloud of my Slothrop allusion, my telemetry and America’s still aligned and synchronized
  2. Jeff = America’s Death Path! though I’ve been eating healthier and taking long lunch walks, I hope I’ve bought us another eight minutes!
  3. BLCKDGRD’s coma remains, I’m enjoying a fascinating wave of frantic sparking (sic) panicky zen, a new sensation, fun, I hadn’t gauged my fuckit meters to alert me my damn’s low, dashboard alert on the. fuck. it.
  4. I link fish for you cause I read what I catch and want to share but ever-worsening duh, do you need me to awooga it at you?

2022 September 20

  • Reminder: the fall of the USSR the catalyst for the elimination of progressivism as laughably once-upon-a-time viable alternative to British taxpayers paying for a freeloader’s funeral
  • BLCKDGRD crashed. Details unimportant other than it was them, not me, they tell me. As I type this at 7:42pm EDT the site is transferring back command to me. Told it can take up to 24 hours, I’m not looking until morning
  • I haven’t backed-up BLCKDGRD since forever, this blog my music and poetry anthologies, my memory palace
  • Laugh, my not emailing Christine about her daughter a direct result of my telling Morningstar about his mother
  • Until typing this sentence my only thought about what to do if google murdered BLCKDGRD was I’m not posting grids at pOj (wordpress for those of you who don’t click through) then remembered I post grids at pOj and the fun part is whatever grid I make in google sheets looks nothing like the grid on pOj, I love pOj except for the wordpress part (not that I want *this* fixed it’s that I couldn’t fix if I wanted unless I pay more)
  • Reminder: shitlords would decracker if they wanted to decracker and if they wanted to decracker which they don’t it’s too late which is just fine with shitlords
  • I wrote this in an email to a friend (just so I’m not accused of plagiarism): Besides, in 2025 when Emperor DeSantis forms the Crackergestapo I’ll be offline and offgrid anyway
  • My first response to BLCKDGRD loading slow was fuck this chromebook, laughed that my next thought was fuck if I buy a new pc, laugh, this is new, I will ride this chromebook to a happy passing, may it be years, in full knowledge I double-mainline google evidence against me to 2025’s Crackergestapo on my deviancy and persistent derision of crackerchristers and White Blue-Eyed Jesus Cracker
  • that shitlords could decracker if they wanted to
  • Six hours, BLCKDGRD’s not back, I’m chill, not like I post this shit at pOj that I haven’t read back to myself yet
  • did he jump or was he pushed?