M a Y 2 0 1 1 - Beyond Twitter ...

it's late
we're not showered

poots and toots, toots still asleep, wallow in morning heat in the city
feverish typing, mid-java, affords me some space and time
dreaming dreaming, software issues in the middle of the night
to work, or not to work, how often is it 30 degrees at seven am
notalot

it's later
still not showered.
a still haze through the morning sun
pierces the blogging space
in spite of the awning
and a sober week

braised chicken on the BBQ

chkcien

poots out

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/report-on-business/managing/morning-manager/good-employers-dont-work-against-human-nature/article2039499/

what our company does wrong:
all of the above

Four human needs that companies need to pay attention to:
1. To be connected - Are all parts of the business connected? From the department level to individuals?
2. Autonomy and Freedom - boundary violators
3. To be imperfect in the the service of ideals
4. To be competent

in this city, summer fleets.
around may, tropical weather appears, as if summoned, from absolutely no where.
or, from the maritime tropical airmass that originates over the tropical oceans

air

and once it's here, you eat it all up
because in a fleet,
you'll have not done anything on your summer list
and it will be gone.

, s

with a bent back, poots sips and chews.
the last rays of morning sun trickle thru the red maple,
saying adieu for the day to make way for a day of rain.
a heavy humidity greeted poots to get the paper
and that, always makes it feel like summer.

a long night of idolized sleep,
poots has double-rushing duty this morning
to get me to the work on time for nine.
the java is hotter today
her eyes still slitty
and she thinks of things she should not
as she quickly fills this white space black and white

6:43 am

quickly, poots, think. drink.
one of us slept.

pootsbloggingspace

even in silence, aside from the gurgling fish, there is panic.
always panic with my own thoughts; stretched outside my insides;
they need me too.
and the tightrope here, to walk, to talk, without saying anything yet while saying everything at all.

your worlds are concrete; mine are not; and in that framework, poots lays down her real self.
for what is concrete, but nothing and what is reality but the summation of everyone else's perceptions.

so even if the words don't spell out 'i am elmo' for you
and even if there's no high-fiving nor soul-clashing; no perilous divorce and splitting of assets;
there's no real children here, no real mothers, no real job, and no real person even;
if you, we, lay aside our dear perceptions for a moment, take away the need for capitalism or rank
and simply contemplate the fish, the newspaper, the sheers that Debbie chose,
the java,
and whatever mood you happen to be in,
you will indeed notice - that there is a connection; there is a reality;
and that becomes all you need to know exactly, what i am trying to say.

i guess, poots did sleep.
and that is all she asks for these days.

three empty days.
held in my present like the future always is.
fleeting me by, fleeting, all of us.

spring springs all over the place
city works leaves no water flowing
children's cries at 7 am
holes on the street
leaves on our trees
flowers still to be bought.

yesterday was good
and the world didn't end today.
apparently it will end one day.

i'm back.
lists of lists on craigslist and in my stinky drawer
this city wakes to warmth, we slept, please just a few more.

physically, my back is now straight; fleeting thoughts of bonnie;
the ones who need each other stick together
do you think perhaps it's the flitty makeup-ed ones with gangs who are more ok?
can my paradigm be shifting so much?
no poots, keep remembering, outside paradigms are not real.
perception runs the world, ed roberts said it and so did LFL.

no lovely words;
no hollywood;
no A.R.
but a very straight back keeps poots happy for now.

what rules a memory
what chooses what's important
is a memory important
no one has to know...
but i do.

and now, what's important, is starting the day.
against my little will, i'll wake the house.

*sigh*

the heater purrs;
the coffeepot gurgles;
it's may.

the list is longer now, writing my down thoughts is required for my shoulders;
rest poots, rest; work won't kill you

let the java slowly wake you from that place
being dragged in many different directions is fun
but being grounded,
is funner

and is alan right, was i- am i - a spaz because i'm nervous?
that thought rambles thru my mind but i never have time to tie it down
i have always believe that i simply have more energy coarsing thru me...
i much prefer ken's synopsis, 'fire in your belly'

and maybe it has nothing to do with me, at all!
perhaps perception, truly, is the only reality..

and i love to work with perception, dont' i.
lovely (naughty) dreams,
working thru my perception,
the house quiet still,
my coffee spoon scrapes the smithsonian mug,
my tequila gut settles,
and the fish, the fish tank blurbling is the only sound i hear.

can you really sum up a life in words?

wow, poots, you're really here. again.
that rocks.

and you didn't even need your list.

developing a list
spreading my love for adele across waves of people
looking back on the moments i remember in my career

to tweet my life or not;

there is no time, no space, for thoughts when they come

comparing our lives; our paths;
with B.M.
this is my list, these are my napkin notes
for today
once acbis is all done, i'll be back
i guess.