The Official Hog Blog
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
I was thrown into a pool before I could talk properly, at age four or five. So long ago, I can't even remember the first time. The shallow end was nice and easy, playing tag and marco polo. But I watched with amazement at the kids who were big enough and old enough to swim in the deep end. I practiced holding my breath under water for extended periods, knowing that if I had to I could swim from the deep end to the shallow end by the mere strength of my lungs. Heck, I could stay underwater for an hour it seemed. Eventually, I did swim in the deep end, but I resisted the diving board and the deep end as long as I could.
The older kids able to swan dive, cannon-ball and flip off the spring board made me long to make those leaps. They always pulled themselves out of the water with smiles, and often ran back to do it again as soon as possible. I'd sit with my chin in my hands and stare as they'd pull gainers and jackknife with a kick to get the biggest splash. Oftentimes huge splashes that soaked the lifeguards, getting them benched like some sort of technical foul.
You get fifteen minutes!
These were the guys I idolized for pulling tricks on bikes and skateboards, guys who were allowed to go hunting and always caught the biggest fish in the smallest of creeks, fellas who cussed, spat tobacco, and the girls swooned over for their coolness. I wanted to feel that. I wanted to fel that comfort and coolness and that unflappability.
It wasn't until I realized that every one of those guys had to be where I was first, afraid to jump and looking at what seemed a great drop with almost certainly terrific deformities if an accident happened, that I knew it would be as easy as walking. It could be as instinctial as blinking, with just a huge amount of faith, and knowing that everything is going to be just fine. With that faith, I could make the leap, land safely in the water, swim to the deck, run back to the ladder and make the dive again.
Approaching fatherhood is a bit like approaching the edge of a diving board for the first time. It looks quite daunting, but the allure of the cool water is tantalizing and exciting. The joyous flying feeling of diving off and up into the air outweighs the fear.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Neo on the written works:
(From "Helen")
The laugh, the tear and the hard-on are three internal gauges by which we can judge our literary work.
"I know the unloved.
I love the unknown.
There is much I don't know/
let it be said that
I feel much better when my grass is overgrown.
A patch of dirt, and a bottle of rye,
Aint much in the world that don't stop me cryin'.
let the rain fall heavy, and my eyes well up,
till that patch of dirt, yea till it
all in time for dyin'.
Chorus:
just let me fade away/
don't give me time to say/
that I love you or that I care/
just lets move on, babe, and take it where/
we need to be."
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I was at the top of some building, as high as a skyscapers. the building's edges began to close in - slowly - around me. It became clear that I was being tested, by whom I don't know, which fascinated me more than the building changing size and dimension. Not to mention that as I looked down , I saw that my arms werenothing more than shards and jutting angles of the bluest crystal I'd ever laid eyes on. This crystal was in very much the same shape of my own arms, so they had to be mine. I waved the alien arms around to assure myself that I wasn't dreaming, and sure enough they were my appendages, and not only my arms but my entire body had become blue crystal.
Moving in even faster, the building was getting too close, and I could see that soon I could easily lose balance, slip, and fall. From this height - especially with my newly acquired fragility - that wasn't anything I could consider as healthy. Creeping over to the edge, I dangled a foot as if to test it's real-ness.
When my foot left the building, it became skin and bone.
it was then that i became confused and unbalanced - i felt
my entire body return to skin and bone
the air rushed around my face, and loudly inside of my ears
the buildings windows soared past me at an ever fast pace
cement rushed towards me as, face down, I plummeted
with people so near I could smell them
From a postcard to R___ & J__ :
I guess that you too, my friends, have wondered what it is that happens to a man when he can no longer see himself and can no longer grasp himself with the inner hands that hold that part of us (which part, or what to call it, I know not) which flees those unfortunate others. 'How abominable it must be,' I once told myself, 'to watch as some portion divorces itself from the rest and to have not even the power to lift one of those inner hands to simply give a grievous final gesture of farewell.' Imagine, however, the converse. Imagine a man walking down the streets as some part of him steals away as if in the night by imperceptible increments not even granting him enough awareness of its departure to that irreparable dissolution of the psychic union (what seemed indubitably indestructible breaks apart here without the slightest tremor or convulsion, and within---who knows…days, even hours…perhaps even minutes? all is lost and a shell walks those streets).
signed, Neo
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The end of the year is a game of catch-up. Catch- up with all those promises I still haven't fulfilled.
Catch- up with all of the bills I havent paid.
Catch- up with the work that hadn't gotten finished. & when I have the time,
Check- up with friends.
Then, the beginning of the year gives us this immense potential.
The new year can also bring about hope
& if its an illusion, or my outlook gets delusional,
may it be that way. See, Its like that fresh jar of peanut butter to dig into.
Or a crystal clear lake to dive into on a hot summer night.
It might be an empty road, some tapes & a full tank of gas,
or the train, when it was affordable.
"As much as things change, things stay the same," I say to myself, as the smell of green tea swirls around my nose & the mug in my hand warms my face from the winter's damp breeze. This is the same mug I held in my hand three years ago. I remember the day I cut my self on it's chipped lip. I asked you if its handmade, & my mouth turned crimson as I bled & laughed about it. nope. you said with a smile. I got that at the pottery barn.
Since that day, we've drank our teas, coffees & whiskeys in the same mugs.
The shirts I wear haven't changed a stitch.
Except for maybe more holes in them.
I still can't seem to pronounce f-u-n-e-r-i-a-l.
& a jig saw carves its way around traps
I've laid inside my heart that keeps me from ever saying it.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Its been a long week, and to those detractors who try to bring me down I have one thing to say: go to hell!
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
As we approached June 6, 2006, the many connections to this satanic numeral became clearer to me. How many omens have we seen? What invitations do we accept, or deny? There were prophesies foretold by such dignified seers, but none will heed the warning. None will take hold of the flame, to brighten these dark days. Some say that we are in the midst of a new hell, and a familar demon is waiting with bated breath. Some say that the number of the beast is the illusion, smoke and mirrors to avert our attention while a terrible plot unfolds. Some say that the date is the beginning of the end. Others have foretold that the BEAST will be revealed through the number. The beast shall have a human name that, when calculated through the ancient codes, will equal that of six hundred and sixty-six.
Still others say that we shall be visited by aliens, who will be referred to as our space-brothers, or brothers from another planet. How will we know?
Will the trumpets sound?
Sunday, June 04, 2006
This will never be a music blog, altho I like to talk about music now and again. I just don't have the time and knowledge to put together a music blog. So, instead of posting actual MP3's, I will direct you to the sites where I've been finding new stuff.
I can't get this Gnarls Barkley Song, CRAZY, out of my head. Recently I found a website that has a MP3 of Ray LaMontagne do a bang up cover of the song.
here - false45th
also found a cool site that collects mp3's and lets you listen to them for free. Kind of like a radio station from music blogs. You can't download anything, but a pop-up will let you stream music.
here - The Hype Machine
enjoy.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Oh the things that I could do.....
Monday, May 29, 2006
