982


high school girls
gaze in envy
my torn, faded jeans

Advertisements

7 thoughts on “982

  1. Reblogged this on richwrapper and commented:
    Been There, Seen Them Swoon: got Levis back to Junior High daze pre-1962! But no one will get their grubbies on my 501s! From waist size 26 up to 44, though 32-36 abounds in both button- and zipper-fly. The knee rips. The older cutoffs (just below the pocket patches) beat the hell outtta these modern “shorts” that kiss my knobbly knees! During Cold War I heard some Soviets paid up to $300 for some religious Levis!

  2. Or even Unkind kids unconfined by steel rods up unrectums and burgular-unproofed glass. Those razor-blade (probably x-actos) applied ladder-looking cuts are the unkindest of all to those of use who earned each and every Irish Pennanted fraying. The fights I had with my mother whose basic instinct was to whip out The Singer and sew in some replacement (taken from Levis’ leggings culled from cut-off shorts…woman had the hemmingist way with unsewn edges and rips and I – even more than my two sibs – kept her zig-zag stitching heart singing…so, to keep my frays un-fixed I’d give her other rips, often with red-going-to-rustybrown pinstriping effects as razor grass and palmetto stalks with their own saw-toothed delights are wont to do with bare arms and such. She gave up the ghost of her fashion district runway tailor father’s penchant for perfect when I presented her one fine afternoon on our then-still dirt roaded street with near circular wet splotches tinged the same colors as above-mentioned inside each left footprint coming out of our nearby woods leading down 24th Place to our Cedar Avenue manse…she didn’t begin running and screaming out “J! Where Are You!? for about a half-block away.” I had jumped out of the lower-limb of my first (and only!) ever climbed pine tree onto a previously undetected rotten pine sapling stump, thus pushing a dirt-and-wood garlanded hole into said arch. That was an amazing afternoon at the Navy Base Sick Call (I had quit going to dependents’ dispensary by age 12 and went to Sailors & Marines sic call years before). Debriding and stitching was a delight enow to compel me to quit pine tree climbing evermore. Gladly, it was Summer and I did not have to endure crutches that 8th grade junior high year. See what you did, Juice: and it was all about un-earned ripped denim!

  3. except for a cuppleatypos – and the missing moment (she found me sitting on tub-edge using a long-hidden-in-the-vanity rubber faucet-end showering-babies hose to clean as best without looking my red-exuding left sole. She never even scolded me later for bloody-print tracking her livingroom and hallway floors (the bathroom’s tile was miraculously scrubbed by the time she and I got back from the Sic(k) Bay. I will finish this addendum by us(e) the other offending typo in its semi-corrected state. Am most pleased the tale gave you some pleasure, sir. Within the next few months I expect to launch the redesign and re-ordering of at least this and “Commentary, Outrages and Prose” free blogs, maybe even with a few toolbars, Pages, Directories and whatever other unLuddited applications (I just detest the shortenings out of “Ap” and its incest-driven cousin “Apps!”). Why, the buggers no longer pay passing near-nods to the necessary apostrophization of ‘ware, as in be ‘wary or be ‘ware of the dog. Is I only three here aware of that? There’s else, but I have chores to ignore elsehow. We gots a gust-front coming, though I suspect it will not be so tornadically inclined as the mere-fear mongers on tellebision shout each time they are allowed on-air unsupervised. Just noticed today’s cold in history hereabouts was in the low 20s…and if memory serves one such Saturday this time in January about 1972, ’74 or possibly elsewhen nearthen, I left Snaffurd at 80 degrees Friday afternoon, showered with duty honey in Daytona Beach at near-75 near midnight and got on the road to the Jacksonville, Florida, pitch for a rugby match at 28 degrees with a wet snow falling…it snowed (so it had to be Inaugural day that cycle) in Miami, too: the point? – why, when listening to Neal Boortz relating his talk on-air with a famous psychic about Ronald RayGun’s chances to win the presidency said some many months before: “Only if it snows in Miami!!” Well, goodman Bruce, it rained on Donnies haid Friday last as he podium snatched and Said Frank Graham, Francis’ alter-ego, that was a Godsign fer shure! Makes me wanna drink another beer, buddy. I have hopes and he has helps but …but, but, but. Later, your Juiceness!

  4. One of your gushes of consciousness. ..we are conscious, correct?…uses more verbiage than I do in two years of penning my three line darlings. ..looking forward to your redesign. ..rant on like Lear in the storm, do not go gently anywhere… we are not jar heads for nothing especially your much esteemed self…you are a gentleman of great heart (purple one, too)…

  5. Ran into Bite Size Dhamma (Dharma?) biog on a comment I posted on Puppydoc blog and sent him your name and (I think) address at CNR. I think it’s the undrugged lifestyle that forces out the blast-forwards and the wordgushes…between butter binges surrounding sacrificial popcorn whilst binge-watching college basketball and what passeth for wards of some sake professional footsball with no kneeling not shown no more just to keep the dad-vertisers delighted. The prog-nasty-cators who predicted two very tight – not done ’till the last drap – games once again gived me delight: I love those who not only know but thunk they may substitute predictions for pedant thus obviating the need to know about which they sprach…just peaches and turnips!

Comments are closed.