The Poisoned Ink Well

Saturday, January 24, 2004


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No Child Left Behind

I dropped my son off at a party tonight. It looked like fun, somebody’s barn away from the main house down a dirt road way out in the country with lots of lights and laughter and loud music. It was his friend’s birthday. I asked him if he would call me, if he needed to leave, or had to leave, or if the cops showed up, and please don’t get in the car with anyone drunk, because I was hanging out at home and not doing anything in particular and would be happy to get him.

He called me about 4:30 this morning and I slurped down some coffee and jumped in car; he was waiting at the rusted gate in front of the old farmhouse with a big smile, and sleepy, happy eyes, and he climbed in the car and we sped away. He said thanks, Mom and I told him that this is the moment that parents live for. I drove him home and made him breakfast and he went to sleep (all in one piece) and I put on a pot of coffee and started reading Litkicks.

I remember when I was his age. I spent my 16th birthday in the French Quarter in New Orleans drinking hurricanes with a gorgeous oilrig worker that I was dating. I still have the picture. My parents were probably at a party somewhere, maybe in New Orleans, maybe somewhere else (they usually were) and I didn't even live at home most of the time, so who knows.

They say, as you get older that you become more like your parents, but I don't know that I could keep up with them.


My son and his friends are the kids left behind, left out, pushed out, unable to fit in those proverbial round holes, they are the ones pushed from school to school until home is the only place left for them; bright, smart, articulate, politically aware and literate, computer savvy, and hopelessly devoted to their music, play station games, and the real world; I marvel at their determination and I remember what it was like to be like them and I try to help and get everyone on the right track with ACT preps, student aid info, (I want them all to go to college) encouragement and being there for them, and mostly that means staying sober, so I can sort out the difficulties that arise. They won’t be prom queens or football stars or valedictorians, no one’s offering them any Ivy League scholarships, (they won't even let them stay in school) but they are so much a part of the future that I refuse to allow any of them to be marginalized.






Tuesday, January 20, 2004


I was reading some of my first post, and when I started writing this blog over a year ago, I was lot more personal, and I may try to work my way back to that. I had more time back then and I had just been through some traumatic events and was talking my way out of it. I'm back in school, now and trying to figure out what to do with my life, again.

I don't know what I want to retire from when I reach 70.

Monday, January 19, 2004


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COME ONE! COME ALL!


Freaks of technology now on digital. Watch your favorite celebrity as they fart, pick their nose, and scratch their ass, 24/7 coming soon to your TV.


I sometimes think about the odd assortment of people that pass by my TV window everyday, and I think of how we used to go to the carnival, and witness freaks of nature and side shows, and now we have the freaks of technology, instead; the un-elusive celebrity culture, so sure that everyone wants to be like them, but most people watch with a grotesque fascination once reserved for two headed cows, bearded ladies, and the world‘s smallest man and I think we view this in the same way we did when we went to the carnival, observing only to reassure ourselves that we are the normal ones because after all we’re not the ones on display.

Please note that even with the advent of digital channels, our celebrity population seems to be increasing at alarming rates with the massive over breeding that seems going on amongst the indigenous population of so-called show people and it may be necessary at some point to tag them (perhaps a silver tag on the ear) and track their mating habits and introduce new forms of birth control so as to ensure they will not over populate existing broad band channels and eventually trample FTC airwaves and depopulate by starving off local dinner theater fare.

Saturday, January 10, 2004


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Better RED than dead.

I feel the need to explain myself to those of you who may now believe that red means Republican, it doesn’t and I realize that I am a bit old fashion in my own fashion of political idealism and purposeful naivety. There are those of us out there that still believe in a utopian philosophy of socialism, and who still adhere to the tenets of Marxism, and who aren’t afraid to express ourselves, which I know makes me a little crazy, but frankly between you and me; I could give a fuck if someone disagrees, or doesn’t understand my viewpoints, but don’t steal my vibrant red stance with your blue and red state media blitz, CNN/FOX/MSNBC, because there are many of us out there who still remember and still believe, and who realize that things like minimum wage, child labor laws, and workplace safety standards would have never been enacted in to laws without a good push of Marxist ideology . By hijacking the red label I feel like the modern media ideologues of capitalist expansion, and free market wankerism, are trying to make it all moot, like that era never existed, and by doing so, are going try and make the reforms non existent as well, so call me what you may, but don’t you dare call me a Republican because I call myself a RED.

Thursday, January 01, 2004


BURP

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