THE BLOG OF SECRETS...

JIMMY NYPD-pencil, paper; I drew his portrait just weeks prior to 911

salted7s — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 10:33:05 +0000

DID U KNOW OSCAR WILDE?

salted7s — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 18:06:48 +0000

THESE WHIMS OF MINE + FOND MEMORIES OF GROOVY EXPERIENCES 3 YEARS AGO AT PLAYA DEL FUEGO; AH, SUCH SWEET DELIGHTS…

Darlings, climb inside your WAY BACK MACHINE & pack an overnight bag; we’re on a mission: TO DEFEND YOUR REPUTATION! Set the dial to the year 1895, destination? The Marquis of Queensbury. Mindset? Assisting famed Irish author Oscar Wilde. We will help Mr. Wilde sue the Marquis of Queensbury for libel. The Marquis publicly insinuated that Wilde was having an affair with his son! His son? The Lord Alfred Douglas. We must first avoid what happened: THE BACKFIRE! When the Marquis’ defense proved somewhat stronger than Wilde’s prosecution, the suit went haywire! He needs OUR HELP! We can be character witnesses! His sexuality was being bombarded with judgment, moralistic beatings, & ignorant misguided purgatory! With evidence of Mr. Wilde’s sexuality out in the open, the courts chose to be very sneaky and instead of pursuing their original prosecution, they waited later that same year to convict Mr. Wilde on charges of sodomy! Of course, we must keep in mind how our actions to help Mr. Wilde will change history. Consider: All of Wilde’s published essays, poems, books of collections of his thoughts-all motivated & inspired by his imprisonment, will be completely erased from our libraries, our educations, our right to learn the truth of humanity! Maybe, we should reconsider; let Wilde sit in his cell back in 1895 & screw his reputation at the time he was alive. Afterall, Oscar Wilde certainly has rocked my world & continues to every time I read his words! Folks, let us not play Time Shifters. Instead, I am going to ride in my WAY BACK MACHINE to last Sunday night when I fell in love with a woman who ingeniously embodies the delicious energy of Annie Lennox & David Byrne. She & I danced, laughed, kissed, spanked, rolled around on the ground, spat on disbelievers, hung out with WHISKEY & WHORES, sat by fires, tickled the night by adding our own stars, wore punk rock smut, challenged anyone to play Superman, sang the “Penis Song”, went beyond the 7 different mind bending exercises bringing ourselves to level 9, & completely letting ourselves fall into a glistening pool of lubed up latex & sweet candied kisses only true free singing souls know how to deliver. SO, DID U KNOW? I’M IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER KINDRED SPIRIT…IF YOU’RE READING THIS MY NEW SONG BIRD (MY DARLING BEAUTIFUL LADY), IMAGINE ME ON MY KNEES IN FRONT OF YOU UNDERNEATH TWILIGHT SCENTED HEAVEN, WEARING OLD SKOOL ROLLER SKATES, & THANKING YOU FINE THANG FOR FLYING INTO MY LIFE! FRIENDSHIP UNDEFINABLY GIFTED! CIAU!

SWEET LITTLE ORANGE MUG!

salted7s — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 03:04:20 +0000

Sweet little orange mug, fingers immersed themselves into lustful lonliness…The thumb waited for you amongst angelic circling creamy thoughts floating atop of your liquidized terminal trust, you sweet little orange mug, you. No wonder your skin swelled & became sore! To be so still, sit upright with intentions of posturizing your life, all the while ignoring the potential cracks in your clay dermis hiding behind light brown freshly brewed day dreaming coffee.

You sweet little orange mug, you! It was his cup of disguised love you became allergic to; itchy blue drops of memories appeared all over your glaze of orange, dove esq., quizical, deep as the ocean, umbillical cord that connects your core directly to the universe. Sweet little orange mug, his cup didn’t even exist! What a charcter you had discovered in an antique tin-can of a man of no heart! Remember how his spicy blood spewed firey rage, yet when he drinks to his heart, he salutes to it as an organ that pumps his freedom.

Once, twice, no-an uncountable amount of moments when this cup, this tin-can of a man had split open his decompossing beats of the universe. He poured 1/2 into you sweet little orange mug, gilded your ceramic sides with inscriptions professing his infinite newfound commitment to replacing his moldy tea with hot chocolate (with white puffy marshmellows), to begin harvesting caffinated spiritual love never before tested by his filtration system.

Now, as you witness his drifting through out his die-hard false faith in being at peace with his emptiness, your thoughts, no longer drowning in words (took swimming lessons) speak softly to your ears as sleepy lips drink in light brown coffee, “Might as well be Faust’s counterpart; he is no longer!” You sweet little orange mug, already with just minutes after the devil pierced his heart, you are pulsating with newfound angelic sleepy sprinkles of spirited yearnings!

My sweet little orange mug, you have been tried others: all of the many different shades of red, yellow, purple, green, blue, and orange. What do you yearn for? Keep on keeping on…discover a color which exists but no human has ever considered the possibility of its’ existence; this unseen color is so brilliant, so cosmically truthful, so awesome, so powerful, it can envoke complete unimaginable worldwide unification via an explosion of complete understanding, support, freedom, giving without the thought of return, connecting hearts, connecting sources!

You must find this color! It contains your sanity! Imagine creating within its’ fantastic fuzzy glitz! It will answer your question (‘Where are the others whom choose love?’)! You sweet little orange mug…

The answer is: They’re all over! Love comes in bits and pieces! You just have to pick them up and keep them together! My sweet little orange mug.

YOU MIGHT DIG ON THESE THOUGHTS…

salted7s — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 02:52:47 +0000

Hmm… Yet again (upon reflection of the past 10 years of my existence) I have found myself stinking of testorserone, falling into an isolation tank made with my own hands out of whatever remaining brain cells treading cerebral liquids within my skull & litterally am disconnected from any meaningfull female relationship. I NEED SOME FUCKIN’ ESTROGEN… ALL MY FRIENDS CURRENTLY ARE PACKING DICKS… which is all good-they are all true pals, but they don’t understand estrogen induced thoughts, actions, etc. Am I stranded on the Planet of the Apes?

I am feeling the fiery results of shedding my skin underneath the Universe’s very own & uniquely accurate microscope that I impulsively “borrowed” after distracting the eternal ever-expanding, extremely free unconditional lover of all & nothing of all. In doing so, have I entered into Nothingness? If so, contentment has arrived…

-Bad news: I’m so fuckin’ opinionated, I should have a talk show… Maybe titled: “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK”. First subject: Reflections on cocaine: Are the 80′s back?

IS THE BLINDNESS TOWARDS REALITY IS THE TRUE ADDICTION?

IGNORANCE IS BLISSFUL? MY OWN MOTHER IS SOO DIGGIN’ SENILITY-SHE LOVES FORGETTING SHIT-SHE SMILES A HELL OF ALOT MORE NOW.

AND I DON’T BLAME ‘EM. FUCK, LIFE IS WILD MAN… WHO AM I TO JUDGE WHAT FOLKS DO TO COPE?

LIFE CONTINUES TO BE MORE & MORE CHALLENGING. IS OUR WORLD BECOMING SO FAST PACED, IT’S ALMOST NOW IMPOSSIBLE FOR ONE TO PHATHOM ANYONE NOT SUFFERING FROM COPING WITH __________________________ BY UTILIZING_________________(fill in the blank).

ADD TO ADHD?

OH GLORIOUS RITALIN, HOW I LOVE THEE?

UNTITLED FOR A GOD DAMN GOOD REASON SO READ ON MOTHER FUCKERS!

salted7s — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 02:48:51 +0000

SO IT GOES
IF YOU’RE CRUEL TO A WOMAN.
BUT-
PAMPER HER.
SHE PUFFS WITH CONCEIT.
YOU DON’T SUIT HER FANCY,
HER RAGE CAN’T BE BEAT.
REPROVE HER, SHE CRIES,
AND PHILANDER-BEFORE YOUR EYES,
TWO SPROUTING HORNS
OF JEALOUSY ARISE.
BUT-
JUST KNOCK HER OFF
AND SHE’LL HAUNT YOU
SURE ENOUGH.
A WOMAN IS A FEARFUL THING-
THOUGH WE CAN’T DO WITHOUT THEM,
BEST TAKE CARE, BEST
TAKE CARE-
A WOMAN IS A FEARFUL THING
INDEED!

YET MY 7 YEAR ITCH MARIONETT-WHO CAN BE THE CAUSE OF YOUR PAIN?
YOUR HEART
FLIP-FLOPS AND CHANGES
LIKE A MARIONETTE.
THERE’S SOMEONE IN THE SHADOWS
PULLING YOUR STRINGS.

TO CAROUSE
IS TO BE HOODWINKED.
YET EVEN KNOWING SO,
YOU’RE SO SKILLFUL AT IT-

EVEN IF IT’S JUST A DREAM,
TWO LOVERS EASILY
AT FIRST
IMAGINE ONE ANOTHER AS BUTTERFLIES,
TOGETHER
STILL AT THE END OF TIME.

MORE CONFUSION
SETTLES INTERNALLY

LESS LISTENING TO
DEW DROPS SPARKLING

ON THE GRASS
BEGINNING WITH EARLY MORNING LIGHT.

LISTEN-
HEAR-
FOR WATER BIRDS SCREECHING
AND THE TASTE OF SAKE IN THE NIGHT.

FORGET PATHETIC CRYINGS OF INSECTS,
BURNING WITH LOVE,
AND THEN THE MORE WRETCHED YOU FEEL,
THE CLOSER YOU WILL BE TO
YOUR TRUE DELIGHT.

HERE’S ANOTHER ONEOFMY*ISMS’ FOR YOU ALL TO HELP ME DECIPHER:

salted7s — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 02:46:10 +0000

It’s Saturday. Nothing. Got absolutely nada. Would really dig bringing fields of blooming daises, vibrating colors galore, fresh onion grass, gnats teasing to ruin such a nice spring day, those billowing white seed transporters that effortlessly sail thru salty humid air promising your deepest wishes to be granted if you dare to pick it’s feathery whispery wings from it’s heavenly zephyr, the reddest of all that are free-spirited lady bugs, a fist full of smooth soft sun warmed dirt, squiggly gooey slugs, pulsating spiralling worms, extra large flying insects rotting into cemented city porches, long island ice teas with those incredibly cheezee umbrellas that secretly (shh!) some of us would get a kick out of being shrunk down to the size of a paper-clip just to enjoy the delicate shade these island drinks provide (with twisty straws), sun tickled skin, fluttering scents of genuine fermones seducing icicles to melt off of hearts previously consumed with fear, and most of all… I truly wish all will forever be sporting bright clean loving smiles-NO MATTER WHAT.

Okay, how ’bout that for complete (trying!) gentleness? Honestly, I feel as though the westernized culture in which I live has caused me an amazing amount of challenges I’d rather give up, even just for one day, even if I became a rock or a potato, or some sort of ignorant old lady-so senile, nothing matters-all of what I’ve learned thus far, yes I’m grateful for. Yet, I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t take a leave of absence from my brain, just for one fucking day.

Hmm… What would I trade? Is this truly a matter of in which a trade would take place? With whom would I trade with? Who would capitalize on this bizarre (not really; if ya relate, ya ain’t nuts) treaty I’d be creating with????? God? Me? Universe? Black Holes? Worm Holes? Devilish Cupids? Who gives a fuck? At least re: above rantings on potential money making situations involving my soul.

I’ll tell ya all this:

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t Gypsy…

FROZEN MENTALITIES

salted7s — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 02:41:16 +0000

THE NEXT DAY…
(for exactly who needs these words)

A disinterested rapist of pig-tails and school girl kilts
Telephoned his addictions;
His voice?
A whisper of a forgotten thought.

Continuing to argue with crayon scribbles
Arguing within his head while
Smashing cravings for veins
Filled with chemical delights.

This man despises being with himself.
This man yearns for falsehoods of sanity;
Only to cringe when the phone rings.
He walks around his own egg shells.

Even when the sun closes down for night’s stalk,
He thinks only of his skin.
Pain expands
Into midnight…

Reality switches costumes
Becoming confusion and ouchless band aids.
And still he pastes on his stage make-up in hopes of
Goodnight kisses.

But,
There
Are
Only

Flinching lips
Made from
Mildew and
Sardonic bitterness.

Apples taste better!
Deodorant suddenly is on one’s shopping list!
Now,
Count to ten my friend.

LACE FUCKING LACE FUCKING LACE FUCKING LACE FUCKING LACE

salted7s — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 02:37:22 +0000

LACE. DO YOU HAVE ANY LACE? I DO. HAND ME DOWNS; SOME DONE BY SEWING MACHINE, MOST HAND SEWN.

TODAY I WOKE UP FROM MISTY DREAMS OF LACE. I FELT CALM. FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A VERY LONG TIME I WOKE UP AND KNEW EXACTLY WHAT I WAS GOING TO BE DOING FOR MY ENTIRE DAY.

LACE. WHAT DO YOU THINK WAS FLOATING THROUGH THE MIND OF THE PERSON WHO DISCOVERED/INVENTED LACE? I HAVE NO CLUE MYSELF. CALL MY REACTION AS YOU SEE IT; APATHETIC AND INDIFFERENT.

THERE WAS SOME TROUBLE WITH THE AMOUNT OF LACE. I FELT OKAY. FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A VERY LONG TIME I PAUSED AND KNEW EXACTLY WHAT I WAS GOING TO ACCOMPLISH NEXT.

LACE. HAVE YOU EVER MEDITATED ON THE QUESTION/NOTION OF LACE BEING VIRGINAL? I HAVE PONDERED THIS MYSELF. CALL MY REACTION AS YOU SEE IT; CURIOUS AND PENSIVE.

THE WALLS ARE DECORATED WITH THIS INCREDIBLE LACE. I FELT FINE. FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A VERY LONG TIME I CHOKED UP AND KNEW EXACTLY WHAT I WAS GOING TO EXPERIENCE NEXT.

LACE. EVER USE AN ANTIQUE LACE TABLE CLOTH AS A BLANKET FOR THOSE BLISTERING HOT SUMMER NIGHTS? I HIGHLY SUGGEST USING YOUR LACE TABLE CLOTHES AS BED SHEETS DUE TO THEIR QUIET NATURE TRULY SET USEFUL FOR A NURTURING AIR FLOW. CALL MY REACTION AS YOU SEE IT; LANGUID AND CONTENT.

AN ODE TO TONY SNOW

salted7s — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 02:34:11 +0000

AN ODE TO TONY SNOW…

(a short one at that; apologizes to The New York Times)

He did the White House beat…
Was not bad for a Republican; wasn’t too radical one way or the other.
So he cruised the Centrist greet…

Even those whom did not like him
Accepted his editorial political whims.

He did the cancer dance
And squashed it…
But the cancer came back for a deathly glance.

Now Mr. Snow
Is doing the ‘what happens now’ death…
His memory will be saved by what we reveal and what we will never know.

Now keep in mind; I’m somewhat slow…
I saw Tony Snow’s name in the Obituaries of The Washington Post
And mistakenly thought of Tony Hawk; he is the skater of snow.

Oh well, such is life; one either skates thru it
Or editorializes it; either way it’s all just the same shit.

AH WHATEVER…

salted7s — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 22:23:32 +0000

HERE’S A QUICKIE!

CHECK IT…

Are you a secret slob? Is the domain in which you reside a chaotic collection of dust bunnies, piles of clothes that you haven’t been able to fit into for more than one year, newspapers, private fetish magazines rippled from water damage and too much usage, crusty damp furniture, closets filled to the brim and blocked up by gigantic chest of drawers, just to awful to bear witness while leaving your comfort zone of denial, shameful crumpled up ideas started and never finished and so on and so on and so on…?

WELL THEN KEEP ON READING MY NEW FOUND RATS IN A CAGE…

I’LL COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND CLEAN IT. I WILL DECORATE IT WITHOUT A PENNY OUT OF POCKETS (YOURS AND MINE). THERE IS HOPE. I AM YOUR ANSWER TO OPENING UP YOUR LIFE TO MORE POSSIBILITIES, CONFIDENCE, AND A NEW LEASE ON LIFE! A CLEAN SLATE! FOR FREE!

Simply leave your questions via a comment on my page.

(patent pending…)