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Saturday, October 23, 2010
Friday, October 19, 2007
cause I had no place to go.
Sitting next to me,
some one quite clearly insane.
She said to me,
"Things are about to change."
She said to me, that it's about to begin.
She said to me, it's just a question of when.
She said to me (in a tone I can't explain)
She said to me:
She said to me, "others will vie
to control the things you feel,
and control the things you try,
dictate the god you serve,
and the ideas you buy."
Then she said to me:
Intrigued though I was
of her point of view,
I was eager to get back to
my nothing to do.
Besides, what could I learn
from someone so clearly insane?
Then she said to me,
"just let me explain."
She said to me, that nothing stays the same.
She said to me, life is more than pain.
She said to me, in a tone I can't explain,
She said to me:
Then she said to me, "it's about to start for you.
There's only one thing
that you can take as truth.
No matter what they claim,
no matter what they do,
they may have made themselves
but they can't make you.
© 2007 Brian Fuller
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
whiskey and mimosa
politically incorrect joke
The fartknocking trumpets
Duke Ellington's BM.
Chokes for Fun
Border Patrol Agents....ahahahaha
Dorothy Mantooth is a Saint
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I discovered a sad and beautiful place. From the right angles, the Salton Sea whispered haunted poetry of its glory days long ago, but turn your head slightly and the rancid truth comes crashing down, your nose being the victim of an all out assault trouped by the legions of fish rotting quietly along the shore. Sometimes the smell would give them away. Other times, legions of houseflies eagerly announced your arrival upon the next 'school' of fish. Following along the shoreline, you'd sometimes see in the distance beaches of a beautiful porcelain white, beaches more reminiscent of the Florida gulf coast than most that California has to offer. But closer inspection yeilds a grim truth - that's no sand. The sun may have bleached them, and the weather may have broken them into millions of little pieces, but step in the wrong spot and you could find yourself knee-deep in the bones of fish from long ago. At least here the flies and the smell had had their way and moved on to fresher kill.
One could imagine just a few years ago the excitement of the place, the parking lots full of boatloads of fishermen eagerly awaiting launch into the fertile waters, kids playing along the shoreline. The place would have been an oasis nestled in the Imperial Valley. The reality of today is that the buildings not laid to waste by the salty brine of the lake have become victims to neglect. They have died; there was no grace.
Can the Salton Sea be saved? Probably. Will it? Probably not. The problems don't seem insurmountable, but they do seem expensive, and that may be its biggest problem.
Plagues & Pleasures on the Salton Sea (a documentary)
Monday, September 10, 2007
But 'Dog Days' is something extra special. If flea markets were an aging rock band, Dog Days would be its return-to-form album. What started apparently as a meeting place for breeders of various livestock and pets has evolved, or devolved depending on perspective, into an orgy of useless junk, old junk, old useless junk, rifles, shotguns, toy guns, and the occasional goat or puppy.
I guess it's true that one man's trash is another man's treasure. For what it's worth, I did find two things I considered buying. One was a grill and headlamp assembly, liberated from an old Jeep (could be an awesome piece of wall art in the ultimate man room or fantasy garage), and some mechanical contraption that appeared to be one part dune buggy, one part quad, and two parts bad-ass...but then I'd have no way of getting them back to Los Angeles and no where to put them.