THE VERDICT IS IN:
YOU SHOULD BY A COPY OF, "THE DELIVERY GUY," Mikel K's popular underground memoir about that period of his life where he went from an LSD soaked, alcohol laden, music writer poet rock star wanna be to a sober father sitting in the Little League bleachers watching his son grow up as he ran the bases. This book will make you laugh. It will make you cry, and then it will make you laugh, again.
YOU CAN BUY THE BOOK, NOW, BY GOING TO THIS LINK:http://stores.lulu.com/mikelkpoet
"I found the book, "The Delivery Guy," by Mikel K to be a refreshing and sometimes uncomfortably honest look into the life of a modern writer struggling to come to terms with a pre-fabricated and often superficial, turn of the century, American society. The battle is dynamic and comes to an uplifting spiritually evolved conclusion. I found it a fascinating read!!!"--James Lewis
"I am so glad you were able to put so much in the book and leave it there - knowing you now, it's hard to believe you held such anger!"--David Snave Evans, as he approaches the end of my memoir, "The Delivery Guy." (You ought to get you a copy. It really is an amazing book, a look at how a many came from being an angry alcoholic to a happy father.)
YOU CAN BUY THE BOOK, NOW, BY GOING TO THIS LINK:http://stores.lulu.com/mikelkpoet
Vanessa Weatherman: I have no $$$$...I will one day...I'd like to read it.
Thomas Krettler: Okay, I got off my cheap ass and ordered a copy. I'm looking forward to reading it.
Albert Geiser: What I can offer you is a lot of word of mouth, which I believe should sell some of your books; seriously, I'll spread the word.
Whether you buy the book, talk about the book, or just wish you could buy the book I thank you. The success of, "The Delivery Guy," is getting it into the hearts and minds of people who, right now, don't even know that it exists, and you all are helping me do that, and I thank you!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
NEW BOOK BY K
"Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop."
--Lewis Carrol, Alice in Wonderland
"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after."
--Henry David Thoreau
Bundy just "nipped" the Fed Ex man, just as I was assurring the man that all my dogs were "safe!" (Bundy, Morrisson, Bolton, and Henry were all out,and about the yard when the Fed Ex Man pulled up). Bundy, thankfully, only got the man's pants, and didn't tear them, but scared the poor guy half to death, though he took it well.
I'm going to visit my grandson, Elliot, this afternoon; and, of course his parents William, and Tomi! I have to thank my Good Neighbor Lisa for letting me use her car for this, and other adventures: she truly is the bleeding heart liberal that she claims to be!
On the way to Elliot's house, I have to stop at The Cable Company office, and turn my modem in for a new one. I have been without internet for almost a day now, and the pains of withdrawal are intense, though I have been chipping in on the unsecured account of somebody nearby. I will gladly pay them a hamburger tomorrow for some internet use today.
On my way to see my grandson, Elliot, the car that my neighbor, Lisa, had so kindly lent me overheated. I put almost a whole jug of anti-freeze in the radiator, but that was not enough for the car, so I am holed up at a Coffee Shop near Buckhead, waiting for The Tow Man. A very good thing about overheating in the heat is that I had with me my new copy of, "Up From the Blue," by Susan Henderson, so I have something fun, and fascinating, to read.
I am not a moderate man. I don't know if I can blame that on being born on the cusp of Gemini, or not. Things are what they are; I mostly find.
The Italian Meat Lover's Pizza that we ordered from the chain store pizza place turned out not to be a pizza for a man who loves meat, but to be a pizza for a man who loves Italian Meat in a very small portion. The skimped on the cheese, also, but at least I do not live near The Nuclear Reactor that got hit by the tsunami in Japan, or am living under bombs being dropped on Libya.
It is such a beautiful day, and out of the blue skies my friend, Jeff Waller, called and invited me to have lunch with him. I met Waller Dollar when he was a barista at The Edgewood Caribou. One day, I was telling him how I was going to open a Cleaning Service, and it turned out that he already had one, and Jeff hired me on to help him clean what we called, "The Big House," once every other week. The Big House had six bathrooms in it, and they were all mine to make sparkle, every other Thursday, and then I would help Jeff make beds, run a mop with cleaning solution over the wooden floors that graced the house, and mop the basement floor. I also dusted pictures. It is hard to believe that such a slob as I was cleaning somebody else's house.
My hip got so bad, around the time that I had hip replacement surgery, that I had to quit the job. Jeff carried on without me, for awhile, until he got a job as a steward for Trans Air. His schedule is busy, but we have managed to stay in touch, and have coffee ever other month or so. Sometimes, in this busy world, you have to fight to keep friendships alive. Jeff, and I, are winning the fight, I am glad to say.
I don't know that finding a good home for Bundy would be good for Bundy; he has a good home, now, and he loves living here.
My dog, Bundy, severely aggravates me when he goes ballistic when a friend, or family member comes to visit. I am really at the end of my rope with this, but instead of getting rid of him, I am going to put a leash on him when someone comes to the door, and he has let them know that he is the boss, and take him back to the bathroom.
I will call the bathroom, "Key West," and, evnentually, Bundy will go to Key West every time that I tell him to, and not stand by the front door barking, ferociously, at all who enter, and then jumping up on them, "lovingly," when they come through the door.
This is taking control of the situation, instead of being controlled by it. And, instead of just putting a muzzle on Bundy when he goes for a walk, I now will put his muzzle on him every time that he goes out the door so that he can bite no more Fed Ex men, or anybody else.
I feel good about these decisions, where I did not feel good about shipping Bundy off to "a good home." I love Bundy, and want to continue to grow with him. Trust me, we have both come a long way, since we hooked up, by accident, almost three years ago.
I am on The Love Porch with The Good Neighbors. I wanted to go see Spanky & The Love Handles in Oakhurst, tonight, and mingle with singer-songwriter Art Linton. but then I started thinking how it is an amateur night out there, and having been an obnoxious drunk for so long, I certainly don't want to be around one, or more, on St. Patty's Day, or any other day.
An ashtray with cigarette butts in it used to bother me. The beer, and wine, aisle at the grocery store used to bother me. I used to not be able to keep any liquor in the house, scared that I would consume it, but, today, praise my Higher Power, none of these things bother me.
There were no visibly homeless people at my local library, when I stopped in to see if they had, "The Seven Story Mountain," by Thomas Merton. There was a security guard--I didn't notice if he had a gun--at the front door of the library, seated at a table guarding the bathroom key.
Up at 6:55 am. I'm a lucky dog to have these dogs. I'm a lucky dog to have these cats, and turtles. I'm a lucky dog to be alive this morning, to be breathing the air of another new day.
Good morning world. I am starting my day with a beautiful cup of coffee, and the song, "Touch of Grey," by The Grateful Dead, and, yes, I certainly will get by, and I hope that you do, too. Today, a new day, is full of so many possibilities, things to be thankful for, things that can happen to you, and me. We, if we have them, are on the path to our dreams. And, once our dreams come true, we can start new dreams. We are blessed, you and I.
Prayers don't seem adequate. I feel very powerless over the situation in Japan. Millions of people. Millions of people are affected by the situation there. I have learned that I am powerless over people, places, and things, but, somehow, I want to shake God, and say, "What the fuck?"
Good news for heavy smokers, and people killing their livers with booze: you don't have to worry about quitting now that Japan's Nuclear Waste is finding its way into the human eco system. Organic dining: who cares!
Henry, Morisson, Bundy, and I just did a long walk, over an hour. The sun was more intense than it has been on any of our long walks before this this year. I can see that our long walk days in the sun are numbered! We will have fun while we can. We ran into a man who was wearing a "Dog's Rule," shirt. He said that I was "a better man than he was," for being able to handle my trio of dogs. He had one dog laying at his feet, who was very well-behaved. My not so well behaved Bundy kept straining at the leash to get near the dog. Go home, Bundy, go home!
Part of our walk was in the park. I am amazed at the number of people who cannot hear you say hello because they have headphones in their ears. One of the greatest joys, I thought, of walking in the park was saying hello to strangers, who are sharing the same beauty of the day that you are. I am wrong though; people want to isolate themselves from people, and exist in their own little worlds. We, mostly, don't know the name of the person living next to us. Don't touch me; I'm sick.
It's quiet on the porch. I just let the dogs out here with me, and there is nothing for them to get excited about, nothing to bark at. I love quiet moments. A horn piereced the air, as I was driving home from my poetry reading, this evening. Some asshole in a new BMW felt that the rest of us weren't going fast enough for him. Not all who drive BMW's are assholes, and there are certainly a good number of pricks driving late model VW vans.
A thought on giving pleasure to all The woman who I was talking to, and I, both agreed that the guy who had thought that I was a prick was the prick. This made me feel better because I had never known what I had done to the guy other than following my heart and doing what I do.
This morning, after a brisk walk from the abode to the pharmacy, with very few stops along the way to let the dogs sniff, or mark their territory, we arrive at a Coffeehouse where I am seeing if Bundy will let me sit down for a half hour, drink a couple of cups of coffee, and write some poems.
I don't think that he is going to let me. He is going to bark at every dog that walks by, and jump on any human who comes close to him. It was my hope that if I sat at this table for awhile that Bundy would not notice it if I went inside to buy a cup of coffee to bring back to the table.
Other people have dogs, here, but they are not misbehaved like Bundy. Bundy is barking at something. Bundy has just nearly attacked someone; thank God he is wearing his muzzle. I might as well give up on this, unleash the dogs, and head home for a coffee.
Bundy has ruined yet another coffee encounter, but it is alright because I love Bundy, and if I really want a coffee encounter, I would leave Bundy home, and just take Morisson.
I said, last night, that I am changing my dog Bundy's name to Dylan, and I started the process, this morning, calling him Dylan, as often as I called him Bundy. He actually sat in front of me to have his muzzle put on to the command, "Sit Dylan."
The name "Bundy" has bad connotations, either the thought of an idiot on a sitcom, on television, or one of the most evil serial killers of all time come to mind. Dylan,on the other hand, represents one of the best songwriters of all time. I think that the way I treat, and respond to this dog will change with this name change, and will result in correspondingly positive behavior changes in my beloved bad boy dog.
I just called out to him, saying, "Dylan, come here Dylan," and he came over to me to get a head rub. I think that we are onto something here.
Listening to Jackson Browne makes me think, but it also depresses me. Bonnie Rait inspires me a bit, but also gives me the blues, somewhat. I'm going to try The Grateful Dead, on this sullen Sunday, and see how they affect my psyche, as I make some chili, in the K Kitchen.
So, Bundy got the muzzle off, today, on our long walk. Fortunately, he got it off on a part of the walk where there were no passersby. He had been working on getting it off, ferociously, for most of the walk. When I put it back on him, I tightened it. He did not try to get it off after that on the rest of the walk; maybe he just wanted to prove to himself that he could do it!
My black cat, Jaggar, started my day off by sprinting from one end of the apartment to the next, for about ten minutes. I don't know who put speed in his morning meal, but it is always good to see my cat happy. Bundy, errrrrr, Dylan, and Morisson, have spent most of the morning, so far, at my sides. They each want to be petted, and, of course, they wouldn't mind a snack. It is a gorgeous day out there. I haven't yet, today, looked at my to do list, but it should, definitely, include a long walk in the park, and much Yoga.
Up at 715 a.m. Morisson spent most of the night in the bed next to me, which is, normally, a no, no, but last night there was a fierce storm, and Mo shivered his way through it, greatly scared of the thunder, and lightening.
Dylan went with me to Staples, so that I could return some pens that were totally unsatisfactory: fine tip pens are useless in my estimation; I must have bold tipped pens. Dylan, on his own, is a much more manageable dog, not only to walk, but to hang around the house with. Morisson has been visiting the neighbor all day, and I can see that Dylan enjoys being the primary focus of my attention.
Up at 3:45 a.m. Morisson jumped in the bed with me, again, tonight, fearful of the fierce storm that was raging outside, and has kept me awake, so far, for most of the night. I'm hoping that the storm will end soon, so that I can get some sleep.
I just walked Anna, and Henry around the block. That's not enough for Henry: he is barking up a storm. I still have Mo, and Bundy, to walk. I don't feel like walking, today, it is wet, and cold, out there; such bothers the arthritis in my right knee. I feel like saying, "Waaaaaaaaah," today; it is one of those day, but I realize that saying, "Waaaaaaaah," is stupid. I am blessed to be alive, today.
My new Facebook friend from Pakistan, asked me if I would like tea, or coffee, better, and said that she would fix me a coffee, if I was in Pakistan. Then she asked me, " why amrica n says pakistanis are tererist, are you agree with them?"
Dear Mikel K:
We're not going to be able to keep anything from this submission, we're sorry to say. Thank you, though, for letting us have a chance with your work.
Sincerely,
The Editors
POETRY
Though I am not in the mood for company, I have brought the great, Great Danes, from next door, Anna, and Henry, over to hang out with us. They are usually good company. I have, also, lit a nice stick of incense, and turned The Jerry Garica Band on. I just swallowed a huge cup of coffee. That's about all that I can do do improve the mood in here, besides shooting heroin, or smoking crack, which never happened when I was "out there," and ain't going to happen now.
Henry will not let me pet him on the face, and, yet, moments ago, when I started to scratch my cat Kobain, who had jumped up on my lap, on the head, and to do the same to my dog, Morisson, who was seated at my side, Henry started to bark jealously at me. Jesus save me. Jesus explain this animal to me.
Henry will not let me pet him on the face, and, yet, moments ago, when I started to scratch my cat Kobain, who had jumped up on my lap, on the head, and to do the same to my dog, Morisson, who was seated at my side, Henry started to bark jealously at me. Jesus save me. Jesus explain this animal to me.
Up at 4:58 a.m. It is raining, again, this a.m. Morisson is following me about the abode, scared. I think that he jumped in the bed with me last night, but he didn't shake ferociously, or try to dig his nose into my hand, like he so often does when a storm drives him to break the no dogs in my bed rule. I love this time of day, especially for writing: it is pure; you all are asleep, the world is mine at this time.
Morisson is terrified of storms thunder, and lightening send him into my bed at night, cause him to follow in my footsteps when they occur during the day. Bundy has separation anxiety. If I bring him with me to the store, he pitches a fit when I leave him for five minutes to do what needs to be done. I'm sure that my cats, and turtles have their phobias, also, and there are plenty of things that I am scared of.
I just found a dead bee amongst the myriad of papers that I am throwing out. (How do I accumulate this junk; things seem so important at the time.) I started to wonder if a dead bee had a soul, and if it had had a soul when it was living. I started to wonder if this dead bee could sting me, if it could, in fact, as a dead bee, kill me. Do I need to clean more, or less, often?
"Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop."
--Lewis Carrol, Alice in Wonderland
"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after."
--Henry David Thoreau
Bundy just "nipped" the Fed Ex man, just as I was assurring the man that all my dogs were "safe!" (Bundy, Morrisson, Bolton, and Henry were all out,and about the yard when the Fed Ex Man pulled up). Bundy, thankfully, only got the man's pants, and didn't tear them, but scared the poor guy half to death, though he took it well.
I'm going to visit my grandson, Elliot, this afternoon; and, of course his parents William, and Tomi! I have to thank my Good Neighbor Lisa for letting me use her car for this, and other adventures: she truly is the bleeding heart liberal that she claims to be!
On the way to Elliot's house, I have to stop at The Cable Company office, and turn my modem in for a new one. I have been without internet for almost a day now, and the pains of withdrawal are intense, though I have been chipping in on the unsecured account of somebody nearby. I will gladly pay them a hamburger tomorrow for some internet use today.
On my way to see my grandson, Elliot, the car that my neighbor, Lisa, had so kindly lent me overheated. I put almost a whole jug of anti-freeze in the radiator, but that was not enough for the car, so I am holed up at a Coffee Shop near Buckhead, waiting for The Tow Man. A very good thing about overheating in the heat is that I had with me my new copy of, "Up From the Blue," by Susan Henderson, so I have something fun, and fascinating, to read.
I am not a moderate man. I don't know if I can blame that on being born on the cusp of Gemini, or not. Things are what they are; I mostly find.
The Italian Meat Lover's Pizza that we ordered from the chain store pizza place turned out not to be a pizza for a man who loves meat, but to be a pizza for a man who loves Italian Meat in a very small portion. The skimped on the cheese, also, but at least I do not live near The Nuclear Reactor that got hit by the tsunami in Japan, or am living under bombs being dropped on Libya.
It is such a beautiful day, and out of the blue skies my friend, Jeff Waller, called and invited me to have lunch with him. I met Waller Dollar when he was a barista at The Edgewood Caribou. One day, I was telling him how I was going to open a Cleaning Service, and it turned out that he already had one, and Jeff hired me on to help him clean what we called, "The Big House," once every other week. The Big House had six bathrooms in it, and they were all mine to make sparkle, every other Thursday, and then I would help Jeff make beds, run a mop with cleaning solution over the wooden floors that graced the house, and mop the basement floor. I also dusted pictures. It is hard to believe that such a slob as I was cleaning somebody else's house.
My hip got so bad, around the time that I had hip replacement surgery, that I had to quit the job. Jeff carried on without me, for awhile, until he got a job as a steward for Trans Air. His schedule is busy, but we have managed to stay in touch, and have coffee ever other month or so. Sometimes, in this busy world, you have to fight to keep friendships alive. Jeff, and I, are winning the fight, I am glad to say.
I don't know that finding a good home for Bundy would be good for Bundy; he has a good home, now, and he loves living here.
My dog, Bundy, severely aggravates me when he goes ballistic when a friend, or family member comes to visit. I am really at the end of my rope with this, but instead of getting rid of him, I am going to put a leash on him when someone comes to the door, and he has let them know that he is the boss, and take him back to the bathroom.
I will call the bathroom, "Key West," and, evnentually, Bundy will go to Key West every time that I tell him to, and not stand by the front door barking, ferociously, at all who enter, and then jumping up on them, "lovingly," when they come through the door.
This is taking control of the situation, instead of being controlled by it. And, instead of just putting a muzzle on Bundy when he goes for a walk, I now will put his muzzle on him every time that he goes out the door so that he can bite no more Fed Ex men, or anybody else.
I feel good about these decisions, where I did not feel good about shipping Bundy off to "a good home." I love Bundy, and want to continue to grow with him. Trust me, we have both come a long way, since we hooked up, by accident, almost three years ago.
I am on The Love Porch with The Good Neighbors. I wanted to go see Spanky & The Love Handles in Oakhurst, tonight, and mingle with singer-songwriter Art Linton. but then I started thinking how it is an amateur night out there, and having been an obnoxious drunk for so long, I certainly don't want to be around one, or more, on St. Patty's Day, or any other day.
An ashtray with cigarette butts in it used to bother me. The beer, and wine, aisle at the grocery store used to bother me. I used to not be able to keep any liquor in the house, scared that I would consume it, but, today, praise my Higher Power, none of these things bother me.
There were no visibly homeless people at my local library, when I stopped in to see if they had, "The Seven Story Mountain," by Thomas Merton. There was a security guard--I didn't notice if he had a gun--at the front door of the library, seated at a table guarding the bathroom key.
Up at 6:55 am. I'm a lucky dog to have these dogs. I'm a lucky dog to have these cats, and turtles. I'm a lucky dog to be alive this morning, to be breathing the air of another new day.
Good morning world. I am starting my day with a beautiful cup of coffee, and the song, "Touch of Grey," by The Grateful Dead, and, yes, I certainly will get by, and I hope that you do, too. Today, a new day, is full of so many possibilities, things to be thankful for, things that can happen to you, and me. We, if we have them, are on the path to our dreams. And, once our dreams come true, we can start new dreams. We are blessed, you and I.
Prayers don't seem adequate. I feel very powerless over the situation in Japan. Millions of people. Millions of people are affected by the situation there. I have learned that I am powerless over people, places, and things, but, somehow, I want to shake God, and say, "What the fuck?"
Good news for heavy smokers, and people killing their livers with booze: you don't have to worry about quitting now that Japan's Nuclear Waste is finding its way into the human eco system. Organic dining: who cares!
Henry, Morisson, Bundy, and I just did a long walk, over an hour. The sun was more intense than it has been on any of our long walks before this this year. I can see that our long walk days in the sun are numbered! We will have fun while we can. We ran into a man who was wearing a "Dog's Rule," shirt. He said that I was "a better man than he was," for being able to handle my trio of dogs. He had one dog laying at his feet, who was very well-behaved. My not so well behaved Bundy kept straining at the leash to get near the dog. Go home, Bundy, go home!
Part of our walk was in the park. I am amazed at the number of people who cannot hear you say hello because they have headphones in their ears. One of the greatest joys, I thought, of walking in the park was saying hello to strangers, who are sharing the same beauty of the day that you are. I am wrong though; people want to isolate themselves from people, and exist in their own little worlds. We, mostly, don't know the name of the person living next to us. Don't touch me; I'm sick.
It's quiet on the porch. I just let the dogs out here with me, and there is nothing for them to get excited about, nothing to bark at. I love quiet moments. A horn piereced the air, as I was driving home from my poetry reading, this evening. Some asshole in a new BMW felt that the rest of us weren't going fast enough for him. Not all who drive BMW's are assholes, and there are certainly a good number of pricks driving late model VW vans.
A thought on giving pleasure to all The woman who I was talking to, and I, both agreed that the guy who had thought that I was a prick was the prick. This made me feel better because I had never known what I had done to the guy other than following my heart and doing what I do.
This morning, after a brisk walk from the abode to the pharmacy, with very few stops along the way to let the dogs sniff, or mark their territory, we arrive at a Coffeehouse where I am seeing if Bundy will let me sit down for a half hour, drink a couple of cups of coffee, and write some poems.
I don't think that he is going to let me. He is going to bark at every dog that walks by, and jump on any human who comes close to him. It was my hope that if I sat at this table for awhile that Bundy would not notice it if I went inside to buy a cup of coffee to bring back to the table.
Other people have dogs, here, but they are not misbehaved like Bundy. Bundy is barking at something. Bundy has just nearly attacked someone; thank God he is wearing his muzzle. I might as well give up on this, unleash the dogs, and head home for a coffee.
Bundy has ruined yet another coffee encounter, but it is alright because I love Bundy, and if I really want a coffee encounter, I would leave Bundy home, and just take Morisson.
I said, last night, that I am changing my dog Bundy's name to Dylan, and I started the process, this morning, calling him Dylan, as often as I called him Bundy. He actually sat in front of me to have his muzzle put on to the command, "Sit Dylan."
The name "Bundy" has bad connotations, either the thought of an idiot on a sitcom, on television, or one of the most evil serial killers of all time come to mind. Dylan,on the other hand, represents one of the best songwriters of all time. I think that the way I treat, and respond to this dog will change with this name change, and will result in correspondingly positive behavior changes in my beloved bad boy dog.
I just called out to him, saying, "Dylan, come here Dylan," and he came over to me to get a head rub. I think that we are onto something here.
Listening to Jackson Browne makes me think, but it also depresses me. Bonnie Rait inspires me a bit, but also gives me the blues, somewhat. I'm going to try The Grateful Dead, on this sullen Sunday, and see how they affect my psyche, as I make some chili, in the K Kitchen.
So, Bundy got the muzzle off, today, on our long walk. Fortunately, he got it off on a part of the walk where there were no passersby. He had been working on getting it off, ferociously, for most of the walk. When I put it back on him, I tightened it. He did not try to get it off after that on the rest of the walk; maybe he just wanted to prove to himself that he could do it!
My black cat, Jaggar, started my day off by sprinting from one end of the apartment to the next, for about ten minutes. I don't know who put speed in his morning meal, but it is always good to see my cat happy. Bundy, errrrrr, Dylan, and Morisson, have spent most of the morning, so far, at my sides. They each want to be petted, and, of course, they wouldn't mind a snack. It is a gorgeous day out there. I haven't yet, today, looked at my to do list, but it should, definitely, include a long walk in the park, and much Yoga.
Up at 715 a.m. Morisson spent most of the night in the bed next to me, which is, normally, a no, no, but last night there was a fierce storm, and Mo shivered his way through it, greatly scared of the thunder, and lightening.
Dylan went with me to Staples, so that I could return some pens that were totally unsatisfactory: fine tip pens are useless in my estimation; I must have bold tipped pens. Dylan, on his own, is a much more manageable dog, not only to walk, but to hang around the house with. Morisson has been visiting the neighbor all day, and I can see that Dylan enjoys being the primary focus of my attention.
Up at 3:45 a.m. Morisson jumped in the bed with me, again, tonight, fearful of the fierce storm that was raging outside, and has kept me awake, so far, for most of the night. I'm hoping that the storm will end soon, so that I can get some sleep.
I just walked Anna, and Henry around the block. That's not enough for Henry: he is barking up a storm. I still have Mo, and Bundy, to walk. I don't feel like walking, today, it is wet, and cold, out there; such bothers the arthritis in my right knee. I feel like saying, "Waaaaaaaaah," today; it is one of those day, but I realize that saying, "Waaaaaaaah," is stupid. I am blessed to be alive, today.
My new Facebook friend from Pakistan, asked me if I would like tea, or coffee, better, and said that she would fix me a coffee, if I was in Pakistan. Then she asked me, " why amrica n says pakistanis are tererist, are you agree with them?"
Dear Mikel K:
We're not going to be able to keep anything from this submission, we're sorry to say. Thank you, though, for letting us have a chance with your work.
Sincerely,
The Editors
POETRY
Though I am not in the mood for company, I have brought the great, Great Danes, from next door, Anna, and Henry, over to hang out with us. They are usually good company. I have, also, lit a nice stick of incense, and turned The Jerry Garica Band on. I just swallowed a huge cup of coffee. That's about all that I can do do improve the mood in here, besides shooting heroin, or smoking crack, which never happened when I was "out there," and ain't going to happen now.
Henry will not let me pet him on the face, and, yet, moments ago, when I started to scratch my cat Kobain, who had jumped up on my lap, on the head, and to do the same to my dog, Morisson, who was seated at my side, Henry started to bark jealously at me. Jesus save me. Jesus explain this animal to me.
Henry will not let me pet him on the face, and, yet, moments ago, when I started to scratch my cat Kobain, who had jumped up on my lap, on the head, and to do the same to my dog, Morisson, who was seated at my side, Henry started to bark jealously at me. Jesus save me. Jesus explain this animal to me.
Up at 4:58 a.m. It is raining, again, this a.m. Morisson is following me about the abode, scared. I think that he jumped in the bed with me last night, but he didn't shake ferociously, or try to dig his nose into my hand, like he so often does when a storm drives him to break the no dogs in my bed rule. I love this time of day, especially for writing: it is pure; you all are asleep, the world is mine at this time.
Morisson is terrified of storms thunder, and lightening send him into my bed at night, cause him to follow in my footsteps when they occur during the day. Bundy has separation anxiety. If I bring him with me to the store, he pitches a fit when I leave him for five minutes to do what needs to be done. I'm sure that my cats, and turtles have their phobias, also, and there are plenty of things that I am scared of.
I just found a dead bee amongst the myriad of papers that I am throwing out. (How do I accumulate this junk; things seem so important at the time.) I started to wonder if a dead bee had a soul, and if it had had a soul when it was living. I started to wonder if this dead bee could sting me, if it could, in fact, as a dead bee, kill me. Do I need to clean more, or less, often?
Monday, March 14, 2011
Editorial Board:
Please allow me to introduce myself...
Hey It's Mikel K, your runner up best poet in 2011, and your Best Spoken Word Performer twice in the past.
ran with ru
was told to fuck off by boy george
fist fight with flock of sea gull
angie bowie co hosted my tv show
wrote Backstage Pass for
combine memoir with poetry
when the going gets normal
A look at a sober man raising dogs in midtown trying to get the book deal that will make the world know and love him.
Please allow me to introduce myself...
Hey It's Mikel K, your runner up best poet in 2011, and your Best Spoken Word Performer twice in the past.
ran with ru
was told to fuck off by boy george
fist fight with flock of sea gull
angie bowie co hosted my tv show
wrote Backstage Pass for
combine memoir with poetry
when the going gets normal
A look at a sober man raising dogs in midtown trying to get the book deal that will make the world know and love him.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
"Blessed is the influence of one true, loving, human soul on another."--George Eliot
"Many poets are not poets for the same reason that many religious men are not saints: they never succeed in being themselves. ....They wear out their minds and bodies in a hopeless endeavor to have somebody else's experiences or write somebody else's poems."--Thomas Merton
"Should the floor be sacred. Mine is certainly not. Should I, then, walk on the sky?"--Mikel K
Dude, a half lab, 4/5's rottweiler, who belongs to my daughter's biological father, Kevin, is visiting with us, this weekend. Dude just bolted out the front door, and unfortunately, found the porch screen door open, so the next thing he knew he was running down the street, happy as could be, free as a dove, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was trailing behind him.
Kevin had warned me that if Dude got away that my best course of action was to just walk behind the dog until he was tired of being free, that trying to chase him would be a game to Dude, and that he would just run away from me in this situation.
Dude got close to a neighbor of mine, who was working in the garden, and I hollered out at the fellow, "Hey, grab that dog, will you?" and Dude's little walk on the Midtown side was over.
Though they have come down from their high hideouts, I am not exactly sure that my cats are glad to see Dude return to our household. Dude does not try to maim my cats, but he is overly inquisitive into their existences, in other words: he is a pain in their asses. The things that we do for love. I love Dude, and I love Kevin. I also love my cats, but they will have to suffer a but until Sunday. As someone once said, "It takes a village."
I microwaved the oatmeal; I fried the eggs, but now they sit getting chilly on the counter, as I head to the Yoga mat.
We drove a million miles, today, in the beautiful day in search of a Flea Market that did not exist, and then we drove another million miles to another Flea Market which did not exist either. Where have all the Flea Markets gone?
In reading the book,"Attitudes of Gratitude in Love," by M.J. Ryan, I have, once again, come to recognize the beauty that is right before my eyes.
As Ms. Ryan says, "Gratitude wakes us up to the ordinary, allowing us to see it for what it truly is, rather than just taking it for granted."
Just home from Yoga class. I am very calm, and relaxed. Kobain is up on my leg wanting to share in the vegetable chips that I am eating. He really eats them, too, which surprises me. Cats do the darnedest things!
We mostly did balancing positions, tonight, in class. There were only two of us in attendance. The rain of the day must have kept the other students away, although it wasn't raining at the time that class started. I stayed in head stand for almost a minute, twice. The way to master an asana is to practice it. Of course, I practice the asanas that I like more than the ones that I don't like.
"How long do you plan to be with Yoga?" my instructor asked me, tonight.
"Until I drop," was my reply.
"Well then, there is no hurry, now is there?"
Henry, and Bundy, were in a fierce barking match with two little dogs, today, when Henry broke loose of his collar. I was sure that a fight was going to ensue,
but, thankfully, Henry listened to me when I screamed, "No Henry. Sit Henry." His owner likes to keep his collar loose; I will have to talk to her about that!!
You think that you are more important than I am, but you wouldn't say it was true. It really doesn't matter; I am just finding things to be nit picky about,today. So much for Peace, and Love.
I have developed this bad habit of biting on my left thumb. No, I am not sucking my thumb; I am biting it, and I figure that doing such a thing is probably a bad thing for my teeth. I want to have a pretty smile; albeit a coffee stained presentation.
I'm going to get laid within the hour. This gal who I have been hanging out with, for a bit, and who likes to do it, is on her way over. It is good to do it; they say that you live longer if you do.
You can't oatmeal while you're eating grits.
It was a good day to fornicate, but I did not fornicate, I walked the dogs around the block. I, first, walked Henry,and Anna, and then I walked Bundy, and Morrison, and then I walked Dude, so I wound up getting a good bit of exercise going around the block three times I did. It was a beautiful day.
"Many poets are not poets for the same reason that many religious men are not saints: they never succeed in being themselves. ....They wear out their minds and bodies in a hopeless endeavor to have somebody else's experiences or write somebody else's poems."--Thomas Merton
"Should the floor be sacred. Mine is certainly not. Should I, then, walk on the sky?"--Mikel K
Dude, a half lab, 4/5's rottweiler, who belongs to my daughter's biological father, Kevin, is visiting with us, this weekend. Dude just bolted out the front door, and unfortunately, found the porch screen door open, so the next thing he knew he was running down the street, happy as could be, free as a dove, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was trailing behind him.
Kevin had warned me that if Dude got away that my best course of action was to just walk behind the dog until he was tired of being free, that trying to chase him would be a game to Dude, and that he would just run away from me in this situation.
Dude got close to a neighbor of mine, who was working in the garden, and I hollered out at the fellow, "Hey, grab that dog, will you?" and Dude's little walk on the Midtown side was over.
Though they have come down from their high hideouts, I am not exactly sure that my cats are glad to see Dude return to our household. Dude does not try to maim my cats, but he is overly inquisitive into their existences, in other words: he is a pain in their asses. The things that we do for love. I love Dude, and I love Kevin. I also love my cats, but they will have to suffer a but until Sunday. As someone once said, "It takes a village."
I microwaved the oatmeal; I fried the eggs, but now they sit getting chilly on the counter, as I head to the Yoga mat.
We drove a million miles, today, in the beautiful day in search of a Flea Market that did not exist, and then we drove another million miles to another Flea Market which did not exist either. Where have all the Flea Markets gone?
In reading the book,"Attitudes of Gratitude in Love," by M.J. Ryan, I have, once again, come to recognize the beauty that is right before my eyes.
As Ms. Ryan says, "Gratitude wakes us up to the ordinary, allowing us to see it for what it truly is, rather than just taking it for granted."
Just home from Yoga class. I am very calm, and relaxed. Kobain is up on my leg wanting to share in the vegetable chips that I am eating. He really eats them, too, which surprises me. Cats do the darnedest things!
We mostly did balancing positions, tonight, in class. There were only two of us in attendance. The rain of the day must have kept the other students away, although it wasn't raining at the time that class started. I stayed in head stand for almost a minute, twice. The way to master an asana is to practice it. Of course, I practice the asanas that I like more than the ones that I don't like.
"How long do you plan to be with Yoga?" my instructor asked me, tonight.
"Until I drop," was my reply.
"Well then, there is no hurry, now is there?"
Henry, and Bundy, were in a fierce barking match with two little dogs, today, when Henry broke loose of his collar. I was sure that a fight was going to ensue,
but, thankfully, Henry listened to me when I screamed, "No Henry. Sit Henry." His owner likes to keep his collar loose; I will have to talk to her about that!!
You think that you are more important than I am, but you wouldn't say it was true. It really doesn't matter; I am just finding things to be nit picky about,today. So much for Peace, and Love.
I have developed this bad habit of biting on my left thumb. No, I am not sucking my thumb; I am biting it, and I figure that doing such a thing is probably a bad thing for my teeth. I want to have a pretty smile; albeit a coffee stained presentation.
I'm going to get laid within the hour. This gal who I have been hanging out with, for a bit, and who likes to do it, is on her way over. It is good to do it; they say that you live longer if you do.
You can't oatmeal while you're eating grits.
It was a good day to fornicate, but I did not fornicate, I walked the dogs around the block. I, first, walked Henry,and Anna, and then I walked Bundy, and Morrison, and then I walked Dude, so I wound up getting a good bit of exercise going around the block three times I did. It was a beautiful day.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Up at 9 am. Upon waking, I immediately set the clock by my bed an hour forward.
I'm going to dust off yet another book shelf. It's a process with me. I never dust the entire bookshelf at once; I get caught up in the books, pulled into them, surprised that I have some titles on my shelf, happy to see others that I haven't seen for awhile.
I am going to get rid of(find a good home for)books that I know that I will never read. As I start this project, I pull down The Riverside Shakespeare Second Edition. It is the largest book that I own, and with it in my hands, I am struck by the thought that books should not be held up on a shelf, out of sight, out of mind; they should be scattered about your living space so that you will pick them up often.
She's an hour late, I think to myself, looking at the clock by my bed that I sprang ahead an hour a day too early.
I'm going to dust off yet another book shelf. It's a process with me. I never dust the entire bookshelf at once; I get caught up in the books, pulled into them, surprised that I have some titles on my shelf, happy to see others that I haven't seen for awhile.
I am going to get rid of(find a good home for)books that I know that I will never read. As I start this project, I pull down The Riverside Shakespeare Second Edition. It is the largest book that I own, and with it in my hands, I am struck by the thought that books should not be held up on a shelf, out of sight, out of mind; they should be scattered about your living space so that you will pick them up often.
She's an hour late, I think to myself, looking at the clock by my bed that I sprang ahead an hour a day too early.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Just home from Yoga class. I am very calm, and relaxed. Kobain is up on my leg wanting to share in the vegetable chips that I am eating. He really eats them, too, which surprises me. Cats do the darnedest things!
We mostly did balancing positions, tonight, in class. There were only two of us in attendance. The rain of the day must have kept the other students away, although it wasn't raining at the time that class started. I stayed in head stand for almost a minute, twice. The way to master an asana is to practice it. Of course, I practice the asanas that I like more than the ones that I don't like.
"How long do you plan to be with Yoga?" my instructor asked me, tonight.
"Until I drop," was my reply.
"Well then, there is no hurry, now is there?"
Henry, and Bundy, were in a fierce barking match with two little dogs, today, when Henry broke loose of his collar. I was sure that a fight was going to ensue,
but, thankfully, Henry listened to me when I screamed, "No Henry. Sit Henry." His owner likes to keep his collar loose; I will have to talk to her about that!!
You think that you are more important than I am, but you wouldn't say it was true. It really doesn't matter; I am just finding things to be nit picky about,today. So much for Peace, and Love.
I have developed this bad habit of biting on my left thumb. No, I am not sucking my thumb; I am biting it, and I figure that doing such a thing is probably a bad thing for my teeth. I want to have a pretty smile; albeit a coffee stained presentation.
I'm going to get laid within the hour. This gal who I have been hanging out with, for a bit, and who likes to do it, is on her way over. It is good to do it; they say that you live longer if you do.
You can't oatmeal while you're eating grits.
We mostly did balancing positions, tonight, in class. There were only two of us in attendance. The rain of the day must have kept the other students away, although it wasn't raining at the time that class started. I stayed in head stand for almost a minute, twice. The way to master an asana is to practice it. Of course, I practice the asanas that I like more than the ones that I don't like.
"How long do you plan to be with Yoga?" my instructor asked me, tonight.
"Until I drop," was my reply.
"Well then, there is no hurry, now is there?"
Henry, and Bundy, were in a fierce barking match with two little dogs, today, when Henry broke loose of his collar. I was sure that a fight was going to ensue,
but, thankfully, Henry listened to me when I screamed, "No Henry. Sit Henry." His owner likes to keep his collar loose; I will have to talk to her about that!!
You think that you are more important than I am, but you wouldn't say it was true. It really doesn't matter; I am just finding things to be nit picky about,today. So much for Peace, and Love.
I have developed this bad habit of biting on my left thumb. No, I am not sucking my thumb; I am biting it, and I figure that doing such a thing is probably a bad thing for my teeth. I want to have a pretty smile; albeit a coffee stained presentation.
I'm going to get laid within the hour. This gal who I have been hanging out with, for a bit, and who likes to do it, is on her way over. It is good to do it; they say that you live longer if you do.
You can't oatmeal while you're eating grits.
49 The Daily K: Bob Fortin. and Eric Gant
I met music entrepreneur Bob Fortin almost twenty five years ago, When I was a music writer, and Bob was manager of a very great band called, "The Grapes." To many, Bob Fortin was known, back then, as, "Bob of The Universe," a nickname given to him, he says, "by some hippy chicks from San Francisco."
Asked if he does music business with a smile, or a handshake, Bob wisely answers, "both." Over the years, Bob Fortin has shook a lot of hands, and smiled at many people in music venues across the state of Georgia, and beyond. Most of those people have smiled back at Bob, and are glad that they shook his hand, or put ink to a contract.
Bob Fortin got into the music business by accident, when an old roommate of his heard him selling food on the phone, and said that Bob should be, "selling rock and roll." Over the years Bob has booked the following venues, and bands, among many others:
Venues:
Brandy House
Fellini's Pasta
Pazzos on Lake Burton
Stone Soup
Pickle
Tumnbleweed Junction
Talent buyer for the Copper Pot restaurant/Clarksville Ga.
Habersham Winery Summer Concert Series, Helen Ga.
Past cts that Bob has managed or represented:
The Grapes
Wayside Riders
Lefty Williams (present)
Revival (An Allman Bros. Exp.) present
Eric Gant (present)
Col. Bruce Hampton
Apple Peru
Urban Shakedancers
Acts that Bob is currently representing:
Lefty Williams (present)
Revival: An Allman Brothers Experience
Eric Gant (present)
A number of years ago, Bob moved his family away from the hustle, bustle, and traffic of Atlanta to the peace and quiet of Helen, Ga. In 2004, Bob relaunched his business, Grapevine Talent, to guide the career of guitar phenomenon Lefty Williams. Bob can, once again, be seen in clubs with a clipboard in his hand, often emceeing the events that Lefty plays.
Bob started playing the trumpet when he was 8 years old, listening to his father play the guitar. Bob soon switched to guitar, himself, and was soon playing in local bands in Providence, Rhode Island. Bob says that the greatest night of music that he has ever experienced was The Grapes reunion at The Variety Playhouse in 2009. Bob says that he is most proud of his association with Lefty Williams, The Grapes, with the fact that an "old school stalwart like Col. Bruce Hampton still calls me back," and that people "like me" know what I did for musicians.
Asked if he would blow his wife and kids off to go, "On the Road," Bob says, "I would go back out on the road for the money, and the stature."
Asked what is the most important thing that a man can have, Bob answers, "a great dog."
Asked what he wants to be when he grows up, Bob Fortin answers, "A Farmer."
Lefty Williams, and Eric Gant, both hope that Bob doesn't become a farmer anytime soon, and so do a lot of other music lovers in the state of Georgia, the reason being that many, many people love Bob Fortin, and they love what he does in the music world, which is to make music happen.
Look for Bob's Rivermist Concert Series this summer, five concerts by The Chattahoochee that will be filled with Love.
www.grapevinetalent.net
------------------------------------------------
There may be no one with more integrity singing, and playing music, today, in the music business than singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist Eric Gant. Eric Gant has a heart, and soul, rarely seen on a stage, as he plays his special brand of blues, funk, rock n' roll, reggae, classic country, and bluegrass. Eric can play alone, or with his band The Eric Gant Trio.
Either way, the audience is exposed to a soulful, heart moving experience. People have cried listening to Eric Gant sing; they really have. They have also laughed, and applauded, which is what you will do, if you come out
His new CD, Chalice demonstrates his ablility to make audiences laugh, cry, sing, and dance. Eric travels exstensively, rocking out with his band and performing acoustic numbers at intimate venues.
Be sure to spend the night with Eric Gant, sometime, soon; it is a night that you will never forget.
I met music entrepreneur Bob Fortin almost twenty five years ago, When I was a music writer, and Bob was manager of a very great band called, "The Grapes." To many, Bob Fortin was known, back then, as, "Bob of The Universe," a nickname given to him, he says, "by some hippy chicks from San Francisco."
Asked if he does music business with a smile, or a handshake, Bob wisely answers, "both." Over the years, Bob Fortin has shook a lot of hands, and smiled at many people in music venues across the state of Georgia, and beyond. Most of those people have smiled back at Bob, and are glad that they shook his hand, or put ink to a contract.
Bob Fortin got into the music business by accident, when an old roommate of his heard him selling food on the phone, and said that Bob should be, "selling rock and roll." Over the years Bob has booked the following venues, and bands, among many others:
Venues:
Brandy House
Fellini's Pasta
Pazzos on Lake Burton
Stone Soup
Pickle
Tumnbleweed Junction
Talent buyer for the Copper Pot restaurant/Clarksville Ga.
Habersham Winery Summer Concert Series, Helen Ga.
Past cts that Bob has managed or represented:
The Grapes
Wayside Riders
Lefty Williams (present)
Revival (An Allman Bros. Exp.) present
Eric Gant (present)
Col. Bruce Hampton
Apple Peru
Urban Shakedancers
Acts that Bob is currently representing:
Lefty Williams (present)
Revival: An Allman Brothers Experience
Eric Gant (present)
A number of years ago, Bob moved his family away from the hustle, bustle, and traffic of Atlanta to the peace and quiet of Helen, Ga. In 2004, Bob relaunched his business, Grapevine Talent, to guide the career of guitar phenomenon Lefty Williams. Bob can, once again, be seen in clubs with a clipboard in his hand, often emceeing the events that Lefty plays.
Bob started playing the trumpet when he was 8 years old, listening to his father play the guitar. Bob soon switched to guitar, himself, and was soon playing in local bands in Providence, Rhode Island. Bob says that the greatest night of music that he has ever experienced was The Grapes reunion at The Variety Playhouse in 2009. Bob says that he is most proud of his association with Lefty Williams, The Grapes, with the fact that an "old school stalwart like Col. Bruce Hampton still calls me back," and that people "like me" know what I did for musicians.
Asked if he would blow his wife and kids off to go, "On the Road," Bob says, "I would go back out on the road for the money, and the stature."
Asked what is the most important thing that a man can have, Bob answers, "a great dog."
Asked what he wants to be when he grows up, Bob Fortin answers, "A Farmer."
Lefty Williams, and Eric Gant, both hope that Bob doesn't become a farmer anytime soon, and so do a lot of other music lovers in the state of Georgia, the reason being that many, many people love Bob Fortin, and they love what he does in the music world, which is to make music happen.
Look for Bob's Rivermist Concert Series this summer, five concerts by The Chattahoochee that will be filled with Love.
www.grapevinetalent.net
------------------------------------------------
There may be no one with more integrity singing, and playing music, today, in the music business than singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist Eric Gant. Eric Gant has a heart, and soul, rarely seen on a stage, as he plays his special brand of blues, funk, rock n' roll, reggae, classic country, and bluegrass. Eric can play alone, or with his band The Eric Gant Trio.
Either way, the audience is exposed to a soulful, heart moving experience. People have cried listening to Eric Gant sing; they really have. They have also laughed, and applauded, which is what you will do, if you come out
His new CD, Chalice demonstrates his ablility to make audiences laugh, cry, sing, and dance. Eric travels exstensively, rocking out with his band and performing acoustic numbers at intimate venues.
Be sure to spend the night with Eric Gant, sometime, soon; it is a night that you will never forget.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
46yes The Daily K: Fear and Loathing while picking flowers in Midtown
"Never bend your head. Always hold it high. Look the world
straight in the eye."--Helen Keller
The dogs, and I, went out for a beautiful long walk, today, because it was Long Walk Thursday, as I call it, and because the weather outside is magnificent. At the start of our walk there are two little parks, I guess that I will call them, covered in daffodils. There is, also, a beautiful forsythia shrub in the smaller of the two parks.
Someone said yesterday how nice it is to cut some forsythia, and keep it in your house, so I thought to myself that at the end of this dog walk I am going to go get me some forsythia, and a few daffodils,
After our dog walk, I dropped the dogs back at the house, grabbed a make-shift vase, and some scissors, and headed to the mini-parks. I cut some forsythia, and was getting me a few daffodils when this lady, who reminded me of Arianna Huffington pulled up in nice car, with a cell phone to her ear, and said, in her best Zsa Zsa Gabor accent, "These are for the neighborhood."
"But I'm only taking a few," was all I could think to say.
"He is watching you, too," she said, and drove off, and I looked over my shoulder to see a man holding a cell phone staring at me from the front of his house.
That cell phone made me think that he might be calling the cops, and I certainly didn't want to go to jail for picking flowers, so I walked extra fast back to my home, which is four houses down from the parks.
You see, lady, I live in the neighborhood, too!
-----------------------------------------
Keith Richards needs $29.99 per book sold, or whatever percentage that he gets, like I need to start smoking crack. I can't afford the book, but I want to see if the book is worth a shit. The girl who showed me where the Richards book was, at in The Book Store, told me that it wasn't; she said that that Keith writes like he talks, which is to mean, I guess, that he is hard to understand. She said that she put the book down about half way through it. She also said that she wasn't much into The Stones, and that Keith didn't have help writing it, but it does say "with James Fox" on the first page.
At a penny under thirty bucks, I am not going to own my own hardcover copy any time soon, so I will just have to keep coming to the coffee shop, taking it off the shelf, and reading it while I sip on coffee, at The Bookstore. I used to work here. I have seen people camp out on these tables daily, for years at a time. Time is on my side. Time waits for no man and it won't wait for me. Keith here II come, you've got me under your thumb.
Start me up.
------------------------------
The first chapter of Keith Richards' book, "Life," reminds me of the book, "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," by Hunter Thompson. Maybe it's the drugs, man.
If the rest of the book is as good as the first chapter, where Keith, and Ron Woods, nearly get busted in Arkansas with a car full of drugs, then the book is worth thirty bucks. I love this jewel from chapter 1: "The choice always was a tricky one for the authorities who arrested us. Do you want to lock them up, or have your photograph taken with them...?!!"
-------------------------------
When I used to have major depression issues, flowers often pulled me through difficult times. I would walk the streets and pick them from folks front yards, bring them home with me, put them in a vase, and smile.
--------------------------------
I have two email addresses: one is mainly top secret, for close friends, and family only, and the other is open to the mass of man and women who inhabit the planet. The inhabitable e mail box has gotten out of control: all kinds of Evil Corporations, and entities that really have nothing good to offer me, have been making the box bulge with nothingness, so I have been eliminating folks. "Unsubscribe," is now my motto!
Got up at 9:01 made a brilliant cup of coffee, after feeding my unfairly meowing cats, and then discovered a brilliant day, out there, with a wonderful spring-like temperature while taking the dogs out for their morning visit. Is there anything more wonderful than being alive?
-------------------------------------
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
Second Life Thrift Store to hold Spring Fling Open House!
Benefiting Atlanta’s homeless pets
March 12, 2011, 11 a.m.-3 p.m., Avondale Estates
Second Life, which opened January 8 in Avondale Estates to benefit Atlanta's homeless pets, will hold a Spring Fling Open House at the store on Saturday, March 12 from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. to thank its loyal customers and welcome new ones.
Second Life is an upscale thrift store that sells gently used clothing, home décor, and furniture in a boutique-style environment - offering consignment store quality at thrift store prices. Proceeds from sales are donated to animal rescue organizations to support the common mission of reducing the number of homeless pets. Donations for the store are accepted year-round during store hours and volunteers are always needed.
Founded by Tanya Mahrous Tobias and her husband Toby Tobias, their mission is to create a fun, pet-friendly shopping experience where every purchase helps give homeless pets a second chance at life. In addition, it is their goal to help educate pet owners about the importance of being responsible owners and spaying and neutering their pets. More than 80,000 pets are euthanized each year in the greater Atlanta metropolitan area due to lack of homes.
The inspiration for Second Life is Lucky, their 16-year old rescued Dalmatian who was once homeless and deemed “unadoptable” by a rescue organization. His official role now is as Chief Smile Officer and his job is to make people smile while shopping in the store.
Asked how they got started, Tanya said, “Lucky is the reason they got involved in volunteering with animal rescue and why they opened Second Life – to raise awareness that shelter pets make wonderful pets and deserve loving homes.” Toby added, “the Second Life store is just the means to raising money, but their overall goal is to be very community-focused and part of the solution - by educating the public about the importance of being responsible pet owners.”
---------------------------------------------
K Poems
And you may watch it grow with me
Someday I will plant a weeping willow tree
in a yard of a house that I am living in,
and I will watch it grow, just like I watched
my children grow, just like I am watching
my grandson grow, just like I am watching
my dogs, cats, and turtles grow.
------------------------------------------------
Because we are close
I like you, but I can't let
your opinion weigh me down.
You are only one person.
You are not God, like you
think you are. Those close
to you often think that
they can stick a knife in you
and that you are supposed to like it
because you are close.
Fuck that.
Fuck that.
--------------------------------
No no no
You call it an election
looks like a lecture to me,
you are telling me
that your way of life is best for me.
No no no.
No no no.
I sang when the others were silent;
they were scared to be alone.
-------------------------------
THE VERDICT IS IN: YOU SHOULD BY A COPY OF. "THE DELIVERY GUY," Mikel K's popular underground memoir about that period of his life where he went from an LSD soaked, alcohol laden music writer poet rock star wanna be to a sober father sitting in the Little League bleachers watching his son grow up as he ran the bases. This book will make you laugh. It will make you cry, and then it will make you laugh, again.
YOU CAN BUY THE BOOK, NOW, BY GOING TO THIS LINK:http://stores.lulu.com/mikelkpoet
"I found the book, "The Delivery Guy," by Mikel K to be a refreshing and sometimes uncomfortably honest look into the life of a modern writer struggling to come to terms with a pre-fabricated and often superficial, turn of the century, American society. The battle is dynamic and comes to an uplifting spiritually evolved conclusion. I found it a fascinating read!!!"--James Lewis
--------------------------------
Help keep The Daily K a float by donating to The Daily K Tip Jar: www.mikelk.poet
Every donor will receive an E copy of Mikel K's memoir, "The Delivery Guy."
--------------------------------
Peace and Love.
"Never bend your head. Always hold it high. Look the world
straight in the eye."--Helen Keller
The dogs, and I, went out for a beautiful long walk, today, because it was Long Walk Thursday, as I call it, and because the weather outside is magnificent. At the start of our walk there are two little parks, I guess that I will call them, covered in daffodils. There is, also, a beautiful forsythia shrub in the smaller of the two parks.
Someone said yesterday how nice it is to cut some forsythia, and keep it in your house, so I thought to myself that at the end of this dog walk I am going to go get me some forsythia, and a few daffodils,
After our dog walk, I dropped the dogs back at the house, grabbed a make-shift vase, and some scissors, and headed to the mini-parks. I cut some forsythia, and was getting me a few daffodils when this lady, who reminded me of Arianna Huffington pulled up in nice car, with a cell phone to her ear, and said, in her best Zsa Zsa Gabor accent, "These are for the neighborhood."
"But I'm only taking a few," was all I could think to say.
"He is watching you, too," she said, and drove off, and I looked over my shoulder to see a man holding a cell phone staring at me from the front of his house.
That cell phone made me think that he might be calling the cops, and I certainly didn't want to go to jail for picking flowers, so I walked extra fast back to my home, which is four houses down from the parks.
You see, lady, I live in the neighborhood, too!
-----------------------------------------
Keith Richards needs $29.99 per book sold, or whatever percentage that he gets, like I need to start smoking crack. I can't afford the book, but I want to see if the book is worth a shit. The girl who showed me where the Richards book was, at in The Book Store, told me that it wasn't; she said that that Keith writes like he talks, which is to mean, I guess, that he is hard to understand. She said that she put the book down about half way through it. She also said that she wasn't much into The Stones, and that Keith didn't have help writing it, but it does say "with James Fox" on the first page.
At a penny under thirty bucks, I am not going to own my own hardcover copy any time soon, so I will just have to keep coming to the coffee shop, taking it off the shelf, and reading it while I sip on coffee, at The Bookstore. I used to work here. I have seen people camp out on these tables daily, for years at a time. Time is on my side. Time waits for no man and it won't wait for me. Keith here II come, you've got me under your thumb.
Start me up.
------------------------------
The first chapter of Keith Richards' book, "Life," reminds me of the book, "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," by Hunter Thompson. Maybe it's the drugs, man.
If the rest of the book is as good as the first chapter, where Keith, and Ron Woods, nearly get busted in Arkansas with a car full of drugs, then the book is worth thirty bucks. I love this jewel from chapter 1: "The choice always was a tricky one for the authorities who arrested us. Do you want to lock them up, or have your photograph taken with them...?!!"
-------------------------------
When I used to have major depression issues, flowers often pulled me through difficult times. I would walk the streets and pick them from folks front yards, bring them home with me, put them in a vase, and smile.
--------------------------------
I have two email addresses: one is mainly top secret, for close friends, and family only, and the other is open to the mass of man and women who inhabit the planet. The inhabitable e mail box has gotten out of control: all kinds of Evil Corporations, and entities that really have nothing good to offer me, have been making the box bulge with nothingness, so I have been eliminating folks. "Unsubscribe," is now my motto!
Got up at 9:01 made a brilliant cup of coffee, after feeding my unfairly meowing cats, and then discovered a brilliant day, out there, with a wonderful spring-like temperature while taking the dogs out for their morning visit. Is there anything more wonderful than being alive?
-------------------------------------
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
Second Life Thrift Store to hold Spring Fling Open House!
Benefiting Atlanta’s homeless pets
March 12, 2011, 11 a.m.-3 p.m., Avondale Estates
Second Life, which opened January 8 in Avondale Estates to benefit Atlanta's homeless pets, will hold a Spring Fling Open House at the store on Saturday, March 12 from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. to thank its loyal customers and welcome new ones.
Second Life is an upscale thrift store that sells gently used clothing, home décor, and furniture in a boutique-style environment - offering consignment store quality at thrift store prices. Proceeds from sales are donated to animal rescue organizations to support the common mission of reducing the number of homeless pets. Donations for the store are accepted year-round during store hours and volunteers are always needed.
Founded by Tanya Mahrous Tobias and her husband Toby Tobias, their mission is to create a fun, pet-friendly shopping experience where every purchase helps give homeless pets a second chance at life. In addition, it is their goal to help educate pet owners about the importance of being responsible owners and spaying and neutering their pets. More than 80,000 pets are euthanized each year in the greater Atlanta metropolitan area due to lack of homes.
The inspiration for Second Life is Lucky, their 16-year old rescued Dalmatian who was once homeless and deemed “unadoptable” by a rescue organization. His official role now is as Chief Smile Officer and his job is to make people smile while shopping in the store.
Asked how they got started, Tanya said, “Lucky is the reason they got involved in volunteering with animal rescue and why they opened Second Life – to raise awareness that shelter pets make wonderful pets and deserve loving homes.” Toby added, “the Second Life store is just the means to raising money, but their overall goal is to be very community-focused and part of the solution - by educating the public about the importance of being responsible pet owners.”
---------------------------------------------
K Poems
And you may watch it grow with me
Someday I will plant a weeping willow tree
in a yard of a house that I am living in,
and I will watch it grow, just like I watched
my children grow, just like I am watching
my grandson grow, just like I am watching
my dogs, cats, and turtles grow.
------------------------------------------------
Because we are close
I like you, but I can't let
your opinion weigh me down.
You are only one person.
You are not God, like you
think you are. Those close
to you often think that
they can stick a knife in you
and that you are supposed to like it
because you are close.
Fuck that.
Fuck that.
--------------------------------
No no no
You call it an election
looks like a lecture to me,
you are telling me
that your way of life is best for me.
No no no.
No no no.
I sang when the others were silent;
they were scared to be alone.
-------------------------------
THE VERDICT IS IN: YOU SHOULD BY A COPY OF. "THE DELIVERY GUY," Mikel K's popular underground memoir about that period of his life where he went from an LSD soaked, alcohol laden music writer poet rock star wanna be to a sober father sitting in the Little League bleachers watching his son grow up as he ran the bases. This book will make you laugh. It will make you cry, and then it will make you laugh, again.
YOU CAN BUY THE BOOK, NOW, BY GOING TO THIS LINK:http://stores.lulu.com/mikelkpoet
"I found the book, "The Delivery Guy," by Mikel K to be a refreshing and sometimes uncomfortably honest look into the life of a modern writer struggling to come to terms with a pre-fabricated and often superficial, turn of the century, American society. The battle is dynamic and comes to an uplifting spiritually evolved conclusion. I found it a fascinating read!!!"--James Lewis
--------------------------------
Help keep The Daily K a float by donating to The Daily K Tip Jar: www.mikelk.poet
Every donor will receive an E copy of Mikel K's memoir, "The Delivery Guy."
--------------------------------
Peace and Love.
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