The Wednesday Morning Post

I find that to be unacceptable.
I say that often enough; perhaps I shouldn’t.

I’ve decided to take up barefoot running.
It’s something I’ve never done before; I don’t know.

When I was young I read books and novels.
Now I read comic books and graphic novels.

This should scare anyone.
Stand up ain’t that easy.

In the year of the dragon,
a star across the sky.
A herald of Lugus,
him no one will defy.

wonder and posture

I was wondering earlier how much time it would take me to lay out a detailed plan for conquering the planet in my own name.
My really optimistic estimate is one long weekend, with breaks for meals and sleep.
The pessimistic view is many, many years.
Realistically, I think I could get an outline done over several weekends spread over a few months.

Now, all i need to do is implement this plan making plan.

beardless in bellingham

I used to have a beard... it's true... over a span of several years I was clean shaven only once, for my best friends wedding.  Though the beard took many shapes and forms, it was an ever present part of my life.


Unfortunately, the past 2 years and 5 months has been a different story.  I was clean shaven twice a week for most of that time... and I did not like it much.  Now I'm reduced to getting the closest trim I possibly can without actually cutting to bare skin; perpetual 5 o'clock shadow.  Not that you can tell.  I pass muster every morning.

I'd like to say I've learned something by exposing my chin to the world, but I haven't.
I'll go to the grave wishing ill upon the forces of darkness.
let it be known...

let it be known, though my beard is gone, I stand with those of you who proudly display facial hair...
I too, have a beard... in my heart of hearts.

and yea it shall be.

the sky was grey as i found my way
from tree to tree, too and fray
i wondered my fate as i wandered about
looking to heaven, my head must be clouded
god not considered and faith not founded
for a hole before me unnoticed had opened
and my soul, burned, singed and battered
fell straight to hell where eternity waited.
it was happiness and joy, no sorrow to be had
no cold heaven for me... boy was i glad.

hmmm... yes... i see.

places i'd like to visit before I die...
-tower of london
-jerusalem
-great wall
-the big island
-niagra
-tatooine
-another dimension
-skywalker ranch
-hanford reach by canoe
-the heart of darkness
-white sands
-key west
-head waters of the amazon  and the nile
-harrowdale
-the ninth level of hell

2009 resolution: no resolution

Given the slow, dismal failure of my 2008 resolution (see below), I have decided to swear off resolutions for now.  Note this should not be considered a resolution, merely a ill-thought decision to hold myself to an arbitrarily self-assigned standard or rule. 
I'm off resolutions for the new year.

2008 failed resolution

Rob's New Year resolution for 2008:

No "treats" for all of 2008, with the following conditions:

-treats shall be defined as "sugary delights or candies"
-mocha beverages are not "treats"
-soda is a "treat," however it is permitted when "eating out"
-homemade "treats" are acceptable at anytime
-"treats" are allowed on all holidays, and at any holiday related
function
-"treats" supplied at work functions are permitted
-5 "special dispensations" shall be permitted throughout the year,
however they must be approved by someone other than myself...

Amendments to the resolution parameters:

-"homemade" shall be defined as "handmade from scratch" in a kitchen
fully enclosed within a "home."
-"handmade from scratch" shall be defined as: made by hand, where the
majority of the ingredients are the most basic ingredients generally
available...

For example, a "store bought" pie, with hand whipped cream topping,
SHALL NOT BE considered "homemade;" however, a hand made cake
(even if originating from a "store bought" mix) with "store bought" frosting
SHALL BE considered "homemade."
Given that, cookies baked from "store bought" dough in a kitchen
enclosed within a home SHALL NOT BE considered "homemade."

All "judgment calls" made by myself in determining whether a "treat"
is eligible for consumption must be approved by someone, other than
myself, who is familiar with all the resolution parameters.

filtered emotions
eclipse a sense
you should feel
certified honest
chilling to know
relief sadness empathy
sorely lacking
tears come for all
not this time
I have wondered at my own humanity
penetrated
no searing light
no dark abyss
a shallow pool
reflects my musing
I shake my head
in supposed disbelief
and wonder
who will expose me?

monday, march 31, 2003

>l've been scared in the past to tell people how I feel about them;
>there's a fear of rejection, fear of being taken the wrong way, fear
>of making yourself vulnerable... and all you have to say is, "your
>cool man, i like you." The thing is, people are afraid to say those
>things, but they shouldn't be, because it makes you feel great.....
>one of the best feelings in the world is making other people feel
>good.
>
>That moment when you've pushed fear aside, and trepidation is gone,
>when you have total confidence, is just amazing.... so why is it so
>damn hard to do? for me its my parents and family, it is so hard
>for me to tell them how much I love them, how proud I am of them,
>how amazing they are... and I don't know why. . . .
>
>the thing is, you think you have total control over your emotions
>and happiness, but then occasionally something happens, just for a
>moment, that you can't control, and it bugs the shit out of you...

gaucho cup winner from history

return to civilization...

whatever.

flight evades me
fright however
pervades my daily life
live my creed
or so I say
read the words everyday.
I lost the thoughts
that brought me here.
in daily life
fear compels me
helps me see
I let it go
in my dreams anyway.

Oh, to be a member of that grand party; an invited guest at the
least, how I would beam in splendor. To be carried about on the
shoulders of the wicked and the cursed, bathed in the shining light of
the true God, where none other than the almighty himself would presume
to pass judgment. The freedom that such a status would allow, the
heights of depravity that could go unpunished in the mortal world, seem
unattainable.
I can only dream.
I can act towards acceptance, I can show myself worthy, and I
can let no person stand in my way. Only my own worries sully my
supplication, my own trepidations keep my mind clouded. I cannot judge
myself; I can only believe my actions pure, my thoughts focused, and my
heart full with righteous energy. When faced with difficult decisions,
I must not impose morals, ethics, beliefs, or laws to the outcome. I
must rid myself of such fetters, I must remove the remaining barriers to
clear thought, and I must not stop until all of you are dead.
Do not think I only rant and rave; do not think I am not honest
or capable. Make not the mistake of believing you can turn me, find the
good in me, for I am the essence of good, I am pure beyond measure, I am
the hand of god, and I will not be judged by the masses, the mortals,
the sheep who impose their doctrine in the name of our father. If I
must purge this realm of such men to prove my worth, I will do so with
fervor.
Perhaps, if I act purely, I will gain acceptance, and I too will
sup with the master of time, the father of all worlds, the King of all
living and dead, the all-knowing grand emperor of being. Perhaps it is
I who will stand before him, face his judgment, and be taken into him.
Oh, the thought of it makes my body numb, my mind dance, my heart
bloody. It must start now, it must begin now, I must rid my mind of
thoughts that anchor it to the perversity of law and order.
Prepare yourselves for death, for I shall not tarry.

Been gone
Down some road
Never going back
Regret to inform me
You can never go back
Told myself
Never go back
Break that promise
Embrace what's past
Never go back
Embrace what's past.

A cramped office cubicle. JOE sits hunched over a keyboard furiously typing. SUPERVISOR appears over his shoulder:

SUPERVISOR: Hey Einstein. You got a minute?

JOE: Uh… yeah.

JOE and SUPERVISOR walk a tedious, labyrinthine path through an expanse of cubicles, coffee pots, and fake plants. SUPERVISOR stops in front of a closed door, opens it, and turns to JOE:

SUPERVISOR: After you.

JOE and SUPERVISOR enter into what at first looks like a closet, but as the light turns on it becomes a massive room filled with boxes, and other large items. The only apparent area of the floor visible is a small entry near the door. SUPERVISOR, without looking at JOE, turns on the light:

SUPERVISOR: Einstein, do you know what’s in this room?

JOE: This is where we dump the body when someone quits.

SUPERVISOR reacts with surprise, not the type of surprise when someone is shocked, but the type of surprise when someone knows too much…

SUPERVISOR: Well, not exactly....Joe... (Long pause)... This is where dump their families before they quit.

JOE: Fuck you. (JOE turns to leave) Jackass.

JOE is stopped by SUPERVISOR’s strong grip on his shoulder.

SUPERVISOR: This is your new office Einstein, you ungrateful fuck. Have a good afternoon. (He leaves).

JOE stands for a moment by the door. Eventually he reaches for the handle, but stops as he hears the BEEP of a computer booting up from somewhere in the room behind him. JOE listens intently. He again turns to leave, but stops.

JOE: Fuck it.

JOE begins to climb over the boxes, old office furniture, bodies wrapped in plastic bags, decades old computers, and other office detritus that fills this unending room. After several minutes climbing and crawling, he suddenly falls into a small space on the floor, barely large enough for a desk and chair. On the desk is a computer, waiting for someone to log in and begin work.

JOE: At least I won’t have to look at their faces anymore. (He sits down and begins typing furiously)

Several moments pass as JOE becomes visibly agitated. Finally, without saying anything, he stands up, rips his monitor from the desk, and throws it into the shadowy reaches of his closet/office. He watches disappear into the distance, then sits down.

JOE: Well, shit.

Release the sounds of fame from the panes which surround the clamors
heard plain.
Select small numbers, expounded often, in groups freed less than common.
Have a heart for small men, wounded men, the bleeding men seen suffering
slumped and draining, for they will return to you in numbers, in kind or
flaming.
Protect your faith from fanatics, unflappable in siphoning until
falling.
Wound yourself, fool yourself, whether withered or wondrous; wind
yourself in happenstance and happy delusion.
Manage the day to day voices inside yourself; keep the din from building
and blasting and breaking yourself.
Let no one other than those respected judge actions taken by you,
thoughts held by you, emotions expressed by you, or that which defines
the center of you.
Pass on factoring the worth of placated princes of putrid masses
meandering among the days lived by you, ignore ignorance among the herds
not avoided, musings muttered baseless, righteous and indignant.

The 2007 Fickeisen Holiday Poem Collection

Rain o' wet rain
wish that you were white
semi-solid
frozen
as the climate warms
the white diminishes
santa's face, palid
as he considers
a pontoon boat with eight killer whales.


As I look upon
pot roast
fresh rolled pasta
cookies rolled by hand
and parmesan with fingernails
I only wonder what dishes
lie beyond
my curious eye
wrapped in bacon
greenery steamed
grains pounded
such wondrous delights
only serve to confound
one such as I
culinarily confused.


Festivus, o' Festivus
how lovely is your metal pole
unadorned with accoutrements
lift the weight from my soul.

lame

what can i say?
i was going to go on about lacking access to the internet, but i decided against it.
perhaps another day, when said access is returned.

until then, goodbye.