Daily Keemo. 3.5. Six For Six

Six For Six
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We were all sitting around the table
talking, drinking, laughing, and there were
six of us and we somehow
stumbled upon the fact that all
of our fathers had left for
new lives with new women and
I know this story is not new
to everyone.

That is six for six and
the story is as old as man and
as pitiful as man and
as sorry as man and
as pathetic as man and
as a man
I write this

for all of us who know this
story too well and

for some reason still think the leaving
had anything to do
with us.

...Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 3.4. This Is How It Will Be

This Is How It Will Be
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I have loved
her for as long
as it matters.

The time before that
was nothing.

With my last
breath
I will whipser
her name
and
it will be
over.

This is how
it will be.

...Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 3.3. Through The Floor I Can Hear It

Through The Floor I Can Hear It
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The girls are downstairs and
I can hear their laughter through the floor and
it makes me wonder why
I am up here with these keys.

In between the laughter I can hear
the soft hum of their words as
they talk about things and
it warms me to know that
connections are made between people and
it is these connections that
makes me wonder why
I am up here with these keys.

I stare at my folded hands and
they tell me nothing as I wait
for the words to open them up and
when they finally do
it reminds of why
I am up here with these keys.

...Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 3.1. When The End Is Just The End

When The End Is Just The End
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I was just about finished with this story and I deleted it. It just wasn't right and to be honest, it was not interesting and the point was something that just doesn't seem to matter anymore. Maybe it is just that I am too tired to go into all the details or maybe it is that lingering self doubt that makes me question why people would even be interested in something that I have to say anyway. Luckily, I learned how to deal with the self doubt years ago and decided to start over and let this grow into something else because in the end sometimes just completing is enough and sometimes just completing is the point.

Daily Keemo. 02.26. Short Story About Standing In The Snow

Short Story About Standing In The Snow
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She was at the gas station by the
corner of the building and she
held her bags close on both sides of her body and
the snow was falling around her like
wishes that she had given up on
long time ago.

I stood at the pump
under the awning and
thought that while I may have it easier
she stood with
more grace
more certainty
and more purpose
than I do
on any day
of any week
of any year.

Daily Keemo. 02.25. A Postcard From 5:00 AM

A Postcard From 5:00 AM
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My eyes opened and it was too dark to see the ceiling and I knew the alarm clock was coming soon but I silently slid out of the bed and down the stairs and felt my way through the dark to the tall desk in the corner and covererd my eyes as I turned the lamp on and I took a seat in the tall chair and the house was cold and silent and I stared at the wall and the stack of papers and thought about all the things on the other side of the alarm that I was dreading and one day these paints will take care of that and there will be no alarm and I found an old postcard from someone and smeared white paint around it and found the .03 pen and moved it around and daydreamed about a day without the alarm and this went on for a while and the postcard was complete and I turned the lamp off and silently went back upstairs and slid into bed and looking at the clock I had just enough time to close my eyes and finish dreaming...Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 02.23. At The Bottom Of The White Box

At The Bottom Of The White Box
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I have spent the entire day alone. (I recommend that everyone do this once in a while.) It is now 10:21 PM and my only contact with another human has been at the Chinese take-out and the lady who gave me the finger because she thought it was her turn at the 4-way stop. "Why yes, I would love a fortune cookie," I said to the girl behind the counter. She threw one in and I returned to the quiet house to eat my food. I didn't even bother to take it out of the little white box and took a seat at the desk and there was a Thelonious Monk Pandora channel on and as I ate I had lonely conversations with myself in which I am fairly certain that I solved all the worlds problems and was certain that only good was going to come from that moment forward. "My fortune cookie will be the test," I thought to myself. I grabbed the cookie and broke it open and flipped the fortune over to read, "Made In The USA". What the hell is that? Made In The USA? That is no fortune.That was it, no words of wisdom, just that. I couldn't help feeling a bit midlead by the words "Fortune Cookie" on the wrapper. I threw the fortune on the desk, picked up the brush and went to the conversations with myself.

 

Daily Keemo. 02.22. I Will Take This Day

I Will Take This Day
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It is 3:00 PM in the afternoon and this painting is leaning up against the wall just to the right of the computer monitor and as I look at it, I am having trouble figuring out where to begin. I never write in the afternoon and I swear the words come out best when the rest of the world is asleep. While I feel the keys under my fingertips I imagine everyone driving in cars, at the movies, buying pants, getting coffee in large paper cups, standing in lines at stores with carts full of packaged tomorrow, in resturants, at stoplights, in airports, on busses and on and on and on and all the while I sit here in this quiet house with the shades pulled open and the cool winter sunlight shines on my back and I try to remember what it is that I wanted to say about this painting but it doesn't seem to really matter now. The only thing that really matters is that it is 3:06 and I have these words and this painting and for right now all the other stuff has nothing to do with it.

Daily Keemo. 02.19. And I Fell Out Of Bed Twice

And I Fell Out Of Bed Twice
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I remember laying on the floor in my room and my feet were propped up on the bed and I stared up at the ceiling fan, getting lost in it going around and around and there was music (because there always is) and I remember the lyrics still to this day and he sang "Fifteen minutes with you, Oh, I wouldn't say no... " and on the other side of the door in the other room I knew he was there with his cigarettes burning away in the ashtray with his anger and ignorance and general dislike but somehow it didn't matter for a change because now there was love and I was in it and everything else flew away on the spinning blades of the fan above me.

Daily Keemo. 02.17. The Light From The Other Lamp

The Light From The Other Lamp
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At the moment, there are two lamps on in this room. One is over there on the table where the paints and brushes are and there are also small speakers over there with music falling out of them. The other lamp is here, near the keys and the emails and the web pages and where the words rise and fall and all fates are determined for what is done on the other table
under the other lamp.

This painting was under the other lamp with the paints up until just a few minutes ago. As I looked down over it while putting the final signature on it I paused and let it just be a painting for a moment. Like something organic and unique and genuine with no other desire than to just lay there on the table and be complete.

When it finally gets moved to this desk, under this lamp, the wheels are set in motion for it to become something else.

At the moment, there are two lamps on in this room and it is time for me to turn this one off.