Nudie Doodle's dizzy daughter and Nudie Doodle's dopey daughter.

Ooze news nozzle and
Note doozy dipper dawdle
Not no dot doodle

Snooze naught doodler
Done dope is nod not nifty
Dippy doze needle

What I did on my summer vacation -1987.

So, there we were standing outside of the Corner Tavern after another crazy gig by Dog Everything.  It was 1987 and for those of you who weren't in our scene, that was the Summer of Love, with all the trappings.  There were weeks that our feet didn't touch the ground.

This night, one of our fans decided that marijuana should be legal so he whipped out a bag during our show right there at the front table and began rolling and lighting joints.  The band was so far gone by this point that we barely noticed as we churned through lysergic versions of our tunes, Jimi Hendrix songs, and covers of our college radio favorites of the day: Camper Van Beethoven, REM, Killdozer.

This was our first gig with our new drummer and as it turned out, his only "official" gig with us.  He fell off his stool during the first song and his glasses flew from his face.  He spent 2 songs rolling around on the floor blindly looking for them as he knocked over all his drums and cymbals (no shit, all of them) in a rhythm that never quite matched to rest of the band, but still provided punctuation.  The guitar player got mad and tried to smash his guitar on the dance floor, but the old building was so decrepit that his guitar just went right through the floor and stuck in an upright position, squealing feedback for 15 minutes.  The bass and lead took turns making chicken clucking noises and mocking the minor third blues cliche' lick, occasionally yelling "I got the blues," laughing hysterically and the stuck Telecaster screaming away all the while.  The rest of the gig went similarly: blurry waves of fun and frustrating noise with a song thrown in here and there.

As we loaded out gear at the end of the night, one of the girls said, "Let's play porch monkeys."  That was a game where we got the bar to give us as much beer as we could con from them and then sat on their porch till the early hours making fun of every car and person who dared to meander by.  We always played.

The sun eventually began to rise and we decided to get out of Edwardsville before it came alive and head for the safety of the woods.  Many cups of draft beer remained sitting on the sidewalk and being thrifty and all, Rod decided to take them with him. While he was sitting in the car with the beers, waiting for his passenger, someone (me) decided it would be funny to write "Fuck Off, Pig" in the dust on the back of the car.  It was so jammed full of PA equipment that the driver couldn't see out the rear-view mirror, so Rod didn't know about the dusty signage.

That's when the police pulled up and hit the lights.  Sensing an imminent meeting, Rod neatly stashed the cups on the floor and passenger seat of his car and covered them with the trash that never seemed to get dumped and he jumped out to meet the cops before they could make it to his car.  The group of porch monkeys hanging out in the street were already talking and stalling, keeping the officer from exiting his car, so Rod hurried it up to the cop's window.  He was standing there answering the usual cop-to-musician questions (Are you a DJ?  No, are you a security guard you fucking asshole!) when he first noticed the "Fuck Off, Pig" sign.  Rod turned pale and began stammering and visibly shaking.  It was impossible to miss the meltdown.  He kept talking, trying to hold the cop's attention so that maybe the officer wouldn't look up and read the writing on the back of the car.  "What's wrong with you?" asked the officer.  "Long night and we're bushed...I have MS... Get in the car, Jeff."  Someone started snickering and then the rest of us began laughing partly due to our inebriation and partly as a reaction to the tension of the possible BAD SITUATION that was playing out in front of us.  I remember having to sit down because I was laughing so hard at the absurdity of the scene.  What are the odds that the damned cops show up just after I'd written that?

So Jeff jumps in Rod's car and lands right on the cups of beer and pops right back out screaming, "Fuck, I'm soaked. This car is full of beer!"  The porch monkey crowd erupted into screams of laughter that would have ensured any comedian that he "nailed it".  That was the moment Rod's hair turned gray and he swore off drugs and alcohol. 

I don't know how he managed, but at some point while the officer was searching the car Rod convinced him that Jeff was a drunk who'd spilt beer all over himself earlier and didn't know what he was talking about and there was no reason to hassle us hard-working musicians.  The officer never mentioned the scrawl and everyone except Rod thought it was one of the funniest things they'd ever seen.

Moth and Men

The moth splashed into the wax, wetting the wick and extinguishing the flame.  He stuck there on his back, his body suspended in the air.  The man notices his candle is out and goes to re-light it when he sees the moth struggling.  "What shall I do?" he asks his friend, "He's still alive."
"Light it, it's just a moth."
"I can't burn him at the stake."
"He's gonna die anyhow.  Who cares?"
"Well, I know he will die, but I can't add to his misery.  If you were going to light a pile of logs on fire and they rolled over on top of me, would you just go ahead and light the fire?"
"The moth is not a man," said his friend.
"And we are not moths," said the man.

This is why we can't stay together

There is not enough of me to go around
And not nearly enough of you to
go around being me.
I wouldn't want to be you.

#32DeathAttackBinLaden/1:1

Murder in the first degree
suitable for any occasion and anywhere
don’t do this justice
vengeful glee

an unprecedented lasting wave of messages
as transcribed by the White House
turned public attention on the closed world
so desperate to locate

look at that savage beast on the left
who was gunned down
didn't find the Joker funny at all
Sherlock Holmes takes a vacation

Now I cannot in truth object
I've crapped out over the years
"I've got an angel on my side.''
casting an even darker shadow over the future

 ____________________________

On my browser poetry, if you care to know:

I wrote (edited; the web does the writing) this piece regarding the assassination of Osama bin Laden several months ago. There is an even more edited version (#30/Murder Is A Horse Race) that I posted a while back.   It didn't seem worth putting up this version until I read it today in the light of recent gun violence in the US. I made up a new title for this one.

Again, I edited the lines that were chosen for me by an internet browser.  I think I choose this process so I can't be blamed for banality or self-indulgence.  But really, it's fun, I enjoy the process, and I'm a much better editor than a writer.


 browser poetry  key

(# = number)/
(Title = keywords search)/
(# = website in order of google search result (:) # = sentence used, if not listed it's from the first sentence.)

Jan Douglas

Love is all around and it’s dead

Everyone up on my wall

Those who died after their heads were removed

And enshrined

Karl Wallinger, look out, you’re probably next

Robyn, I’m going to take you down because I fear for you

I know you’re watching me and probably laughing

I know you don’t like jokes

And it really isn’t very funny

Just strange

Your head appeared and then you were gone

But your face will always remain the same

Classic Rock

in the car

the new Boston album

on classic rock radio

God knows this one’s going to be a classic.

a bag of lumpmeat sandwiches

in the eye with a fork

in the front seat

in the face
of the poor, dead singer