tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58344012024-03-13T01:09:46.601-02:30DrewtopiaAn online etch-a-sketch for my technicolor world
(or is that the other way around?)Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-62103152413871321362009-01-08T19:15:00.001-03:302009-01-08T19:25:01.036-03:30TestThis is a test, not copyright infringement.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1149113658391386512006-05-31T19:43:00.000-02:302006-05-31T19:44:18.403-02:30So...I hear Edmonton's got a hocky team now.I wonder if anyone will like them.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1129839631402170542005-10-20T17:42:00.000-02:302005-10-20T17:50:31.406-02:30Shall I compare thee?"Poetry is the art of economy of words," she says.I used to say that.Nearly verbatim.And an artful economy it was...until the crash.Now my poetic musings consist mostly of lines akin to:"Well that's just fucking perfect""You've got to be fucking kidding me"and"Mother fuck!"Sonnets of the Portuguese, my friends.Sonnets of the Portu-fucking-guese.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1129572205558592312005-10-17T15:28:00.000-02:302005-10-17T15:42:05.386-02:30North by North-CottonJust slightly out of phase.I can almost touch, almost hear, almost interact...just not quite.It's like every atom in my body, every synapse in my brain is propelling me toward something that's not there. The compass points north, south, east, and west and I'm supposed to head yellow.I think I'm supposed to be here, but here is not supposed to have me.I've had this feeling before. When I was Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1129523197891843492005-10-17T01:49:00.000-02:302005-10-17T01:56:37.896-02:30Parallel plans:identical in form and flowsame cast of miscreantssame tragic hero.Two violently opposing intentions.I think I managed to foil them both.But I can't seem to shake the feeling that door #3 is a broom closet.(call me if you need some sweeping)Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1120638917534010582005-07-06T06:03:00.000-02:302005-07-06T06:07:33.170-02:30you fickle notes againyou've robbed me of my sleepdragged me from my bed to watch the colors in the sky.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1119636221439008412005-06-24T15:29:00.000-02:302005-06-24T15:33:41.443-02:30**Cobwebs**(on me AND my blog)Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1103071402856876652004-12-14T20:55:00.000-03:302004-12-14T21:13:22.856-03:30Of Final StrawsThat's just fucking bullshit.
I quit.
Everything.
Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1103069701788911282004-12-14T20:43:00.000-03:302004-12-14T20:45:01.786-03:30Jesus...is this the shape of promised glory?
Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1093823232098761662004-08-29T21:10:00.000-02:302004-08-29T21:17:12.100-02:30Siring of a Madman2
"I heard screamin' and bullwhips crackin'."
She wasn't kidding when she told him it was a little sketchy in that part of town. Being witness to four separate drug deals on the same block and within the same minute was a new experience for our madman. One might argue, though, that there could have been no more appropriate halftime show for the day's activities--a forty-block odyssey through Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1093740222911733592004-08-28T22:09:00.000-02:302004-08-29T21:09:50.633-02:30Siring of a Madman1
"I saw a horse. There was a man on fire. And I killed someone with a trident."
Amidst a sea of bad coffee, afloat of a raft of good pizza, illuminated by the twinkling light of Korean lettering of indeterminable quality I'm getting sleepy (and absurdly symbolic). All I can think about is that, now that I've seen the sun rise from the Atlantic and set into the Pacific, I can't wait to see it Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1093593210320214862004-08-27T05:18:00.000-02:302004-08-27T05:23:30.320-02:30...yeah, it was pretty dark but I sure as hell didn't expect to find that toe there.
(not to mention all the rest)
Should have opened that second one.
Ah, well.
Live and learn, as they say.
Live and learn.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1093259795514012562004-08-23T07:56:00.000-02:302004-08-24T02:00:48.096-02:30--take me from this place of doorless keys
where frozen ground is Comfort's chosen face.
Save me from this time of timeless grace
when patience falls as limp as apathy.
Can one be maddened by one's own silence? In this newest depth of acute desperation I'm afraid I've betrayed my own soul--speaking words for wordsake, making plans actionsake, moving every single muscle to fend off atrophy from Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1090872061258231852004-07-26T17:08:00.000-02:302004-07-26T17:31:01.256-02:30afloat precarious...so there are to be no more promises.
Even I have tired of how hollow they are always shown.
Today there is naught but intention veiled.
Tomorrow I spend what intention affords.
Yesterday I intend to forget.
I suggest you do the same.
Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1088056570046330992004-06-24T03:25:00.000-02:302004-06-24T03:26:10.046-02:30pardon meA decade ago I never though I would be 23 on the verge of spontaneous combustion
woe is me.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1086308206863534252004-06-03T21:27:00.000-02:302004-06-03T21:46:46.863-02:30Battle CryLo! Who is that, striding amidst the icy wasteland! It is Nicholas Perreault, hands clutching gilded boxing gloves! He roars gutterally:
"I'm going to hump you until you bleed puke!!"
Stalking through the icy wasteland, carrying a jeweled meat hammer, cometh Tanya Corbin! And she gives a bloodthirsty grunt:
"I'm going to brutalize you until the sun burns out, then steal your lederhosen!"
ZangAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1083283333151688482004-04-29T21:32:00.000-02:302004-04-29T21:36:30.936-02:30Obscure Biblical ConceptsOnce upon a time I was a creative muse.
Then came a time when I needed a creative muse and one could not be found. Great was the sadness and ass-poor was the music. Sad were the creations and abundant was the ass-poorness
If anyone sees God over the weekend, let Him know His "sewing and reaping" principal is malfunctioning.
(Nick, maybe if we approach Him together...)
Thanks.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1078379520407163322004-03-04T02:22:00.000-03:302004-03-04T02:24:59.576-03:30American RelocationYa know...
This new nation of mine really hasn't worked out for blog regularity.
Mayhaps I need a week or two back in the motherland.
Nashville: The land where my blog died and my bluegrass career was born.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1076020342874072352004-02-05T19:02:00.000-03:302004-02-05T19:04:44.700-03:30Always the same dissonant clash when time wasted turns to time intended. What makes me think I can condense thoughts before I sift them and filter? What makes me think I have the right to order them before release?
Always the same murky mesh of muddled melodies and disjointed diction.
--kept my rhythm in perfect time
walked in purposeful stride
lost my footing down riverside
will you Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1075854546401091652004-02-03T20:59:00.000-03:302004-02-03T21:01:25.763-03:30...and thus begins my intensive campaign to have "y'all" replaced with "b'ys" as the preferred term for southerners addressing groups of two or more people, animals, beer, etc.
Wish me luck.
" This is my beautiful new wife, Lila-Ann. The moment Momma brought her home from the hospital I knew we were destined to be wed. So here we are, thirteen years later, just as happy as kinfolk should be on Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1075750029034799202004-02-02T15:57:00.000-03:302004-02-02T15:59:26.746-03:30Last night my dreams were set in Ohio---as though that was my ultimate destination.
I woke up in a panic as though I was not ready to be there yet.
I'd like to say the realization I was not in Ohio let the panic subside.
I'd like to say a lot of things right now.Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1074289279904732052004-01-16T18:11:00.000-03:302004-01-16T18:22:00.483-03:30Here ye shall find the last typed words of Andrew Collins, Convergys employee. I see my time as an working man, once again, dwindling down to a matter of minutes. Twenty-eight, at this point, and I seem to have run out of things to do. Sort papers, recycle said sorted sheets, clear out email, and stuff free candy into my already bulging pockets.
Though not nearly as sad a departure as I had Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1074112643918488512004-01-14T17:07:00.000-03:302004-01-14T17:15:50.810-03:30So she says to me, " I guess I won't see you again. Well, not till you come back with youngsters."
Then he says, " I'm doing a course on landmine awareness. I'll give you my text before you go. You're going to need it."
I hate my friends.
All of them.
Except Jack.
It's not considered drinking alone if your drink has a name, right?Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1073951461165954492004-01-12T20:21:00.000-03:302004-01-12T20:21:21.786-03:30For this evenings performance I would ask you all join me, mentally if not rhetorically, on the rough and faded plain of an old church pew. Here you can lose yourself in the joyous cries of endorphin bliss.
While a quick roll to the window reveals the faint sound of weeping and gnashing of cigarettes, a long roll back will let us watch for falling prices.
Open your lips and embrace the goodness Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834401.post-1073685177176604322004-01-09T18:22:00.000-03:302004-01-09T18:23:16.976-03:30ProcrastinationdiscussAndrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03351137058184706312noreply@blogger.com