Food Front WW Week Dopey Soapy BS

 

"Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,

'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,

To bow and to bend we will not be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,

Till by turning, turning we come round right."

____ 

zeit·geist

/ˈzītˌɡīst/

noun

the defining spirit or mood of a particular period of history as shown by the ideas and beliefs of the time. 

___ 

"On a recent Friday afternoon, a violinist in jeans stood outside the fenced front door of the shuttered grocery co-op Northwest Food Front playing “Simple Gifts,” the poignant Shaker hymn."  

___ 

fence 

/fens/

Crime · Informal 

Fencing

verb

past tense: fenced; past participle: fenced

1.

surround or protect with a fence.

"our garden was not fully fenced"

Similar:

enclose

surround

circumscribe

encircle

circle

encompass

bound

form a barrier around

form a ring around

divide up

section off

separate off

partition off

cut off

cordon off

close off

isolate

segregate

seal

close

gird

girdle

engird

compass

2.

INFORMAL

deal in (stolen goods).

"after stealing your ring, he didn't even know how to fence it" 

___ 

'On a recent Friday afternoon, a violinist in jeans stood outside the fenced front door of the shuttered grocery co-op Northwest Food Front playing “Simple Gifts,” the poignant Shaker hymn."  

Look at the photo.

Is the entrance fenced?  How am I standing near the entry way. It's NOT fenced. 

____ 

Which brings up another pressing issue:  

Who, exactly, is the membership?

Me.

The violinist who was unaware of any photo being taken or article being written. 

My Food Front member tag is displayed in my violin case.  

___ 

'Chronic graffiti sprawls across the co-op’s windows. For a time, an unknown benefactor wiped it away during the night. "

 

Wrong again.

I wiped away the black marker that covered all the windows on Thurman side. 

I did it at noon.  

And I'm not a benefactor, but an OWNER.  

"But an especially large graffiti display installed last week is too much for a good Samaritan to tackle with a bucket of soapy water." 

90% pure rubbing alcohol.  Try soapy journalism.

____ 

 

"They may have to take out ads in local newspapers to find members, Grivas said."  

Oh, the guy who had a roofing contractor there may fork over our money....to some....local newspaper.

 

___ 

So I'm Urban clutter.  

https://www.wweek.com/news/chasing-ghosts/2023/08/23/a-beloved-northwest-grocery-co-op-approaching-foreclosure-faces-dwindling-options/

158, 953

 

Empty Ballcap

 

Cody kicked his bucket

But I know nonothow, heard the idle chatter on the last bus home 

A gas station guy on the counters other side

He was ringing up beers just yesterday  

 *

Bussing from the pool over in cheery blossom

Feeling not too bad for Thursday

There at the mall got on the grim news, out of the mouth of Rene  

*

He just die

Just like that

Another hard fact

Just like that

____

Probably the Covid I'd think, he was heavy, 40 in a wide orange vest

Smiling Colorado, a blond ole hick, said he knew

             Nostradamus from his history class 

Lived at the corn, the unicorn inn, said his nayburr near                     burnt it up,

He smiled and moved his big ballcap, rubbed his belly

 tweren't a flu, twas MTN spew  

*

He just die

Just a fact

No more alive

That's where he at

___

Sweating in the field there                         pump #9

Idaho family gotta make good time, 

school starts up and dad's three jobs 

Cody wipes his brow, sounds lots like mine 

That's why I'm here on the worst damn road,

  filling tanks

 with petroleum 

*

Back inside turn the slushy machine, 20 little cameras record the scene 

A maskless montage of death on the go, 

   poor Cody poor Colorado,  we all know 

Life in a motel

 so far from home, friends to all but close to none 

Standing and breathing just hours close passed, 

 Cody lie still and none soon asked 

____

Why we go 

Just like that

Leaving no mark 

Just an empty ball cap. 

Plumb line

 

Leaning on yer shovel, staring at the phone 

Holes don't dig themselves 

You ain't al Capone 

Your ex can wait to nag over what you'd soon forget 

Drop the call

Drop the gadget 

Drop it in the cement 

 Ring out the bandana

Sweating overtime 

Silence all incoming domestic jive 

 

Pick up that hoe, mix the mud a little more 

Eighty bag to go 

It's not worth the weeping 

Toss it in the box

Muriatic heartbreak got you soggy in your socks 

Pull the forms, it's nearly set 

We've finalized separation 

Rebar lattice the details 

It's the pour around the nation 

Dump the squawkie talkie 

You got yourself to blame 

Your necks gone red to white 

Blue balls feel the same 

Fido is doing great 

The kids getting straightish B's 

Run a plumb line on your own time, honey please 

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/aug/27/al-capone-miami-mansion-demolition-ron-desantis

Sleep Deprivation

 

'Scientists have proposed various biological explanations for the connection between soaring temperatures and mental health disorders.  

At least some of these illnesses may have a simple origin: disrupted sleep.

Room temperature needs to dip below 68 degrees for a comfortable rest.  

On warmer nights, people fall asleep later and wake up earlier, and the quality of their sleep is poorer." 

Heat Singes the Mind, Not Just the Body https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/10/health/heat-mental-health.html?smid=nytcore-android-share

Bitch glass, beachglass

 The kobold from the ship unappeased at the $24 burger and $18 margarita

The wind spirit ravenous from waters boiling, the gallery belching wealth gas, greed fumes, oil paintings and polymer monstrosity

People scramble to the sea 

It sweeps, sweeps, sweeps us out to deaths safety 

The jewelry fused with base metals from campfire popcorn tin, Lahaina goes away in a jiffy 

The banyan inches on 

Onward, a tourist parrot escaped in soot plumage wracked 

The fancy cars all convertible now explode 

Yachts kilter to sink popping sparks and champagne cases 

The kite store releases it's kites as they box shiva's gift 

The kami dance 40 feet tall  

It fuses, it's a new thing done the old way, ocean hisses our DNA into the $13 brownie wrapped in chiffon

All town is crepe and blood from a sealess sharkless snark ridden coconut popsicle stand with our celebrity photos fire signed Was Here 4 stars 

The bikinis melt unfabric 

As waves turn it over, over and under the waves, the foundations and sand buckets and floaties emerge from  trillion gallon cat of $34 rocky road, pineapple zing 

Howlies howl 

Sand tumbles our tears smaller, more round than our delusions can imagine 

 Holding your nails while you pound them in 

My face is done cracking from all that silly grin 

My fingers black and blue

Held together with super glue 

Holding your nails while you pound them in 

____ 

 

What's in it for me 

Beside the infamy 

You're just another perch in the sea 

Not steady 

Over ready 

Bait n switch eloquent

Can't make a dent 

Irrelevant 

What's in for us 

All blunder no blunderbuss 

I hear that stuff 

It ain't cuss tho cross my heart I like the guff 

Meet ya half way almost there 

Don't need to stare less you want a punching 

Put it on my tab that saucy blab 

Under my belt holding up the flab 

It's on me but it ain't free 

Your dime don't roll 

In our square peg monotony 

Quaker swing

 Hey can I borrow your porche 

Gotta turn around 

My bucket of bolts 

Flannel not linen 

Three point steering

I got the right o way 

But I'm needing a porche 

Yes assembled with gas 

And a three day pass 

Plus a soliloquy 

That's not plagiarized 

I need a porch 

With a quaker swing like Mickey mantle dusting his 

Porche for fingerprints 

I need a porche.

 Go out of your way to be nice 

It's a steeplechase 

Watch out for the soffet 

That's the wasps den 

Gotta turn the other cheeky 

Cheek cheek and eat that peanut butter lest the lippy lip flap 

Don't take that sophist advice 

Best be the vice 

Bob Barker their nuts when you hurdle the moat spin the clickey wheel 

Bend down and say hello 

I'm taller but only cuz you're six feet under, 

Go short on courage 

Hide in their aprons that's ginger and spice 

Napping under the sofa eating tofu what we should do soaks up all surrounding 

Go out of your way 

Take off the flip flops 

Drop some LSD hug a tree 

Nicely done give thanks we didn't hatch from silver banks 

Moms did it, mostly or they tried or they didn't but that's all dad's fault 

Going over the hell an extra mile leap the anthill you'll land just dandy 

With an egg carton cap 

And that quantum map for loafers won't stub you toe just 

Be 

Nice. 

(SE PDX.)

Detritus

 

There's an old frying pan, some clothes, assorted trash mixed into a nest of driftwood, but we can't find the diamond ring, nor much trust amid a sleeping beauty hedge with her limbs bonsai, slumped away from grandchildren toward some aesthetic weaned on motor oil jugs and dental floss unspooled. I like it she says, back toward the lone window with the blinds glued shut. Away goes her mom, away goes her boys, her book of laurels, her yellow pads streaming non sequiturds. Asterisks and arrows, highlighter battles, every other notion underlined, her right hand with a death grip on the TV remote that crushes juice out of the wee battery. Everything worth a look fits in a small backpack and all but a chapbook of photos is shit. She's elated I find some tiny scissors, put them in my purse which has an old bank card in it but nothing else. We used to drive around Portland, she'd point at sheds, barns, homes. I could live there, and I know where to find an old frying pan.