•January 13, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Me and this modern confusion


And that fellow? I do not understand his mustache. –Not that mustaches need understanding, but his is particially questionable to me. Getting the razor between the nostril and upper lip always seems like taking it a little too far… too technical.


Aside from facial hair some of my other case studies involve pre teen and teen behavior, canned bean recipes, remedial running and of course: parental technology.


I remember being a teen and holding love for a female that she could not return. It was heartbreaking and there was nothing to do about it. Well, there was one thing that seemed to work, and I wonder if these kids today still do this act. What? For most males the most ancient way of retrieving positive illusional love is by driving by her house.


Concerned friend: “Well what did you do, dude?”


Hurt teen: “I drove by her house”


Concerned friend: “Was she home?”


Hurt Teen: “I don’t know”


This remedial running is going rather well. Oh yes, I’m a resolution runner. I know that is trendy and trendy isn’t cool but I’m over being cool as well as over weight. Yes, naturally I could cut out a few calories but really what’s the point? I need early morning cardio… ripping around Denver panting like a dog about to die… before it’s light out so no one can see Mr. Arment holding up to his resolution… sticking in the shadows and spooking people walking their dogs, listening to ‘Skinny Love’ by Bon Iver on max volume. Obviously this song is about losing weight and running.




FRIDAY NIGHT FIGHTS! Not really. This is my parents and Oliver commanding Siri and Alexa. Believe me, this is entertainment. My dad was trying to get Alexa to play the radio station 96.1 WSOX, which is a local station that plays 60’s, 70’s and 80’s ‘greatest hits’… and Alexa (their smart speaker that Margaret and I bought them for Christmas) continued to play modern dance/hip hop. This was annoying my parents, which actually started to entertain Ollie and I.

The more annoyed my father got with his blue tooth daughter, he began to talk to her as though scolding. He sounded like the grandfather in the movie “16 candles” talking to Donger. “Donger… WHERE IS GRANDFATHERS AUTOMOBILE?”

“ALEXA…STOP THE MUSIC….ALEXA PLAY 96.1 WSOX…..(modern pop/dance/rap music ensues) …ALEXA…STOP THE MUSIC…. ALEXA PLAY 96.1 WSOX….”

And this time Alexa doesn’t play music at all, but starts spouting about indigenous tribes of Canada and their strife.. and what is currently going on with them and the countries government, and border regulations and what this means for border straddling tribes in both North America and Canadian sectors…

My dad hangs his head in disgust for Alexa’s disobedience as the room now roars with laughter from my mom, son and self. And yes after learning a little more about the Canadian tribal strife we got that little devil Alexa to play us some of the Susquehanna valley’s GREATEST HITS!


State of tough and trust

•January 6, 2018 • Leave a Comment

IMG_5656.jpgI’m drinking wine from a coffee cup, going over my notes from this last week of work. These notes I keep in my phone or (the good ones are on paper) on pieces of paper strewn throughout my work truck (depending on the day it’s my van…which hides deeper secrets). I’ll stop myself from doing nearly anything to write down a note. Why? Because its super important and it’s super important. Writing down notes is more worthy of (yours too) my time than anything else (aren’t you tired of looking at your phone?) in the world. Huh? Yes, dammit pay attention. Write notes. Save little simple memories or ideas.. quit comparing yourself to Edison during your brilliant portrayal of yourself over cocktails with your D-bag friends… Edison didn’t drink, he woke up, cracked a can of kick-ass and did shit all day long without posting his progress on the internet. This is (quit looking at your fn’ phone) truth. Take notes. Make notes… quit jerking off (I’m talking to you, Arment) so much and smell the (whatever is outside your back door) roses before it’s too late.

Is this wine or coffee? Is this a can of kick ass?… If I’m itchy am I scratchy?

Why do I come here? All the sales clerks at the counter are miserable… or they hate me… WTF is going on here? I’m confused. Are you confused? I just smiled at you and it was the easiest thing in the world for me to do… I enjoyed it. But to get that glare man, that glare dude. Is it you?

It’s not you it’s me.

Then there’s a guy out back in the yard who carries a hand gun on his hip. Oh great now I feel safe. He makes it a point to let everyone see it. “See this?..” raises shirt, looks at pistol and then back at you, nodding. Security guard? Me thinks not… this is a lumber yard and this man’s a lunatic. “I carry”. Who cares.

He is not the same man I saw at the gas station with the gun (on his hip, easy acces in the event that his vigalante skills could be needed at any moment people), crawling out of his low riding sedan; a gust of wind snatching losing lottery tickets from under the seat and into the barren parking lot, the stock stereo blaring the local rock station’s commercial. The commercial. Why keep the radio loud while an annoying add is on? Is he one losing lottery ticket away from a breakdown in his whip with no tint, a car worth about $450 and some change. Man… I don’t know if it was his piece of shit Celica or what but everything about him was giving me the feeling that something bad was about to happen… “something bad is about to happen to everyone” is the worst feeling in the world so I just opted to about-face, get back in my van and go some place else… quickly. Later Vader.

Urine Review 2017

•January 1, 2018 • Leave a Comment




Champagne…. you always get me, so good. Too good. I slug you down like a dang Old Milwaukee, by the fistful. Regretful. But this year things will be different. Quit smoking start running more fun more hope less dope stack steez. All that and a bag of chips… no lard! Vegetarianism goin’ hard! C’mon and kick it into gear! New Year!

We Got Paid. We got Broke. We got hoarse. We got Stoned. I got mad when I found you alone. An old man stepped down from the limelight, we bartered genes for lost nights. But don’t worry; I’ve lost venom in sunrises -I’m no longer contagious in the sunrise. And thank God for all the faith Mom, years like this make me so lonesome. I’m no longer contagious in the sunrise.

We write hot checks. We salt the books. I would trade time for dirty looks. We could raise halos in every grave, but we salt the books with all the time we save.

Save. Please. Alright? OK. Come back here please, and remember me; these sunrises come freely. We go broke and paid both so easily.. The Hot Checks, Salty Books, Halos and the grave looks.

More Ketchup

•August 20, 2017 • Leave a Comment


When do we stop doing things?

When we’re dead? Bored? Tired… like when do we give up on the things we love to do? Do we stop loving doing them?

I’m refusing to stop doing the things that I love.. forever. But, when I look at that picture above, the screen grab took of me finishing concrete; one of my ultimate ‘loves’ I look like a mad man… and I believe I look this way often. Me looks a little psycho…pain riddled, sweaty, fat, dirty, angry. I love concrete.

Skate boarding trips have changed as well. Now I take a van load of children; my son and his friends instead of a van load of derelicts. The back of the van still sounds about the same: laughter and a mix of food fight and wrestling… then silence then repeat. Nobody wears seat belts, they’re too busy climbing on top of one another and jumping around. I try to reprimand but suddenly they’re all deaf. I continue driving somewhere while in another world…hopefully not making my mad man face pictured above.

A standard skate trip without children? All I need is a 12 pack of cheap beer and a box of cheezits. But when kids are involved you gotta remember to bring ketchup and shit.

And I still love my journals. Journals are magic. Mine used to be more public then things were a little sad, like a sun dial motto… a little too true for m’sharing. I think I made that face above all day and during sleep for a while.

In the past years therapy became a religion and I was able to sort out my questions and work on answers without worrying about labels. Shane swears those bad times took years off of my life and.. I’m OK with that.. what’ll it be? I’ll take a little off the top.

Ode to Ted

•January 13, 2017 • Leave a Comment



Family jam moment on the house piano at the Arment’s last night was a real hit. This made me miss Ted more than anything has.. this moment would have made him bellow with praise; his girls working together making music, laughing and sounding angelic. Jesus I would have loved to hear his description of this performance. Ted was the engineer who described nearly all things in life with engineering terms… the one that comes to mind was him frustrated with his neighbor’s hen attacking one of his chickens.. “that mother fucker is disassembling my rooster”.

Miss you Ted. This is only one of many simple moments that I wish you could have seen in person and described for us with your amazing honesty.

And yes.. in case you’re wondering I have audio of the girls singing.. no you can’t hear it. I’m holding onto it for something special.



Never mind, I’ll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
Don’t forget me, I beg
I’ll remember you said,
“Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead,
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”

You know how the time flies
Only yesterday was the time of our lives
We were born and raised
In a summer haze
Bound by the surprise of our glory days


Nothing compares
No worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes
They are memories made.
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Never mind, I’ll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you
Don’t forget me, I beg
I’ll remember you said,
“Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”.


Buick. Boy Growth. Friend’s Dad’s Funeral

•April 9, 2016 • Leave a Comment

That Buick of mine was a hot ride. Though there was only a few of us who thought so. We kept it clean and always had somewhere to go.


We watch the time pass so fast it hurts. Kids without T-shirts. Moms in a bleached stained skirt. It’s a whirl wind we’re living.



Yesterday: two years ago

In the rear window the dads were dying.

It all started yesterday at Jon Morrow senior’s funeral- or celebration of life as they now call them. Brothers recited memories and cried like babies again, but momma’s been gone for years. Tears, strength, faith in heaven and respect for death filled the room like a gas station apothecary; everything anyone could need was there for the spiritual taking. The lobby hosted a two fold billboard with pictures of the deceased and his loved ones loving life. Stern smiles and faded history.


There was a lot of talk about life yesterday. And yes, good talk about life always includes that of death, and afterlife and…holy shit there is a fly buzzing around my truck right now that I want to kill so fucking bad, that it’s almost made me lose my train of thought. …runaway train.


Then the conversation last night at my parent’s house drifted quickly from me stealing my dad’s Lance tuck in my teens to everyone talking about heaven: the final resting place and what it’s really like. I admit: it made me feel uncomfortable. –Not because I have a problem with the thought of after life or death or any of that…It was just the first time I heard my mother talk about her vision of arriving in heaven… and hell no I’m not going to share what it is with you; no offense but you’re just a reader- I’m sharing my thoughts and feelings with you… not my mother’s. I found a proper time to leave and did so; saying good byes to a room full of loved ones; who; thank god are still alive and present in my life, let me never take for granted those that surround me physically on a daily basis whom I some day will inevitably miss. That line just typed itself and sorry but there is no going back on it.


The window before us, though maybe dirty, open, shut or blinded, we can still see through. Even if the panes were painted black we could break them out and get a vision… and yes, even the blind have the visions that I speak of; a way of looking at things, a sense of what is here and what the days taste like we are in control of; at least to a point this physical view. It’s not a matter of fate, it’s a matter of the decisions we have made as humans, up and out of bed, shoes on or where to go, or at the least: what to think about.


It was a good night’s sleep and today I still noticed everything a little bit differently: the steeples poked out of the autumn peaks invitingly but I did not stop. We were on a mission of our own, my son and his pal ate Margaret’s pancakes and went off on a Sunday morning road trip. The truck was full of skateboards, good will and instinct. We stopped at roadside ditches and stole some lines. We climbed campground sculptures and ignored Colin’s fever. Forever let me live life like this, making moods and time to miss.



I think I need a Pill

•April 8, 2016 • Leave a Comment

Overweight mothers led a stampede; pushing carts full of bullshit for their brats. It’s nonstop in this lot. I try to never come here, every time swearing this is the last. Is this the first? Hot damn I need springtime purchases. I’m sweating. I’m angry. No discount card, see I like my Chinese bullshit over priced and easy. Look at me pleasing! Where are all these mom’s going? Where’s the dad at? -Somewhere on the clock to pay for that slobber rat. Holy shit I’m doing it again… No time to kill, I think I need a pill.


FullSizeRender (12)