Thursday, August 28, 2008


A poem inspired by Beer N. Hockey:

Last night must have been
an evening

for falling
asleep on the couch.
I do this habitually -
when Rosa is not
around to
bark at me
or wheedle
and cajole -

and my back is no longer

supple enough to withstand this

At least you came to with beer

on the table - if warm and flat.

I was roused this morning
by a movie
channel preview running endlessly
on a loop.

Mel Gibson with a saltire
on his face, shrieking on
about freedom.

Braveheart, be damned.

What's the pain of ceremonial


compared with waking up

on the couch
at 7:00 AM and staggering

into the kitchen

doubled over
in agony
to make a
nine-year-old his
breakfast ?


Your driver said...

Slow down goddamit. The last like 100 posts have all been interesting and some of us have to work in sawmills or driving buses or doing the hair and make up on cadavers down the funeral parlor. I literally don't have time to keep up with you. Three day weekend coming up. Labor Day, where we honor America's workers by giving them a day off without pay and then making them work twenty percent harder the next four days. I should use the time to flamethrower the cobwebs and scrape some of the sticky stuff off the walls and floor, but I will probably use it to read your blog. Take a deep breath bro'.

ib said...

What ?! Cobwebs add character.

I'm not quite so sure about sticky stuff on the walls and floor, though.

ib said...

Sow down ? I realise it may appear that I'm driven by demons in my haste to post, at times, but I was kept awake last night by mysterious vibrations resonating through the building. It transpires - from talking to a neighbour on the walk to school this morning - that somebody twelve floors below me decided to throw an impromptu party on the stroke of midnight.

The act of posting in the wee small hours distracted me from flying out my apartment door in a rage at 2:00 AM and leaving my son home alone.

Fear not! Should the escalating wave of verbage crash, just pick through the flotsam strung along the shore...

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

To quote a local home improvement guru - It's just that easy folks. It's like Ed Banger sang back in the '70s - I ain't been to no music school...

ib said...

Yes. But only if you're brave enough to take on the nosebleed and ignore the come down:

"Don't Try This at Home, Kids!"

Unknown said...

Am I mistaken (punching holes in the clouds of my hazy mis-readings, and drinking), or wasn't this post originally illustrated with an 'ib original art'...?
Not that having Sid squint at me is wrong, or bad, by any stretch, but... Seems to me in my reader, earlier this day there was some pinhead-hair looking fellow blowing a red and white noise-maker that I planned to re-look at later on... Seriously, I'd thought of it a couple times - when I was at work today - and now I'm just thinking it was some half-dream invention of my own groggy brain... If I had drawing skills, maybe I'd try fabricating my own version of it, but... maybe I'll just re-read that poem and then have another drink to wash down a hydrocodone and another ant-depp... Yeah. That doen's seem like a bad idea at all, actually... Glub, glug, hic (belch)

ib said...

Nah, you're right, Matt; I had originally posted an old illustration of mine - which you describe with admirable accuracy! - but it was the more recent one, two above, and I substituted it with the origami stag beetle.

I'd kind of hoped nobody would notice...

Unknown said...

Ah ha! Even though my eyes are bleery and beery, and even though my finger-tips mis-type (so I backspace and correct) and mangle...

So, why'd you take that drawing down? I saw 'drawing', but - unless I'm mis-took (often me) - it looked like pencils, acrylic crayons or something?

But why;d you take it down? Getting all modest on us internet peering persons? Fuck that! Modesty is for then what got no talent (let 'em keep that shit to themselves)... You, on another hand, my pal, have exhibited talent.

Not htat my eye is anything knowledgable, but I think your stuff (the couple I've seen on my digital-computer-screen, that is... esp. that Bukowski thing... hold their own with anything else, mutha-fukka.


So there. And too, etc., etc., etc.