Fat

Tonight I went out to the gym again

for the first time in a long time again,

but the available options were pretty lean,

with a line around the block for the chest machine.

So I went over to the treadmill and I got right in it

and I walked right in place for at least five minnit,

then my lower left thigh got really sore,

so I wiped away the sweat as I felt hardcore,

said bye to the lady from behind the desk

and I promised myself I’d work on my chest,

next time. Next time.


Backing out in my Echo I got quite a shock

from the Jack in the Box restaurant across the block

and I guess that you could say it was just my luck

cuz they were selling two tacos for just a buck.


I recalled a bag of quarters I’d forgot about

from the last time in the month that I’d gone out

to the arcade that I loved down in San Jose

that had been blown up by some damn dirty apes.


Grabbed the bag from the floor of the passenger’s seat

untouched for a few weeks by a passenger’s feet,

thought I had enough scrilla to buy a few

of those sweet gringo tacos that look like spew,

which didn’t really matter cuz I planned to park

nearby and eat those tacos right there in the dark.



Turns out I had enough for more than that

but I wasn’t really worried about getting fat

cuz I’d already gone to the gym today

but I got a fizzy water too just in case.


A dozen tacos later I was back at leisure

at home when I remembered Tillamook in the freezer

just three-quarters empty and getting colder

so I decided to save it from getting any older.


Put a spoon right in and I took a bite

delicious as ever but it wasn’t quite right,

looked down and the tub was three-quarters full,

did my duty anyway and I ate it all,


plus the stale cereal that was going bad

in the gallon of milk that was looking sad

plus the stale Winco chips that were aging fast, a

simple challenge with the aid of some diet Shasta.


I know it sounds like a lot but I’d like to say

it’s just fine cuz I went to the gym today.

-Bearshaman

Closing’s the Worst Shift

and everybody knows it. The floors

are never clean enough and

you’ll never get out fast enough for

Mr. Mani-Pedi, the owner/asshole

who only ever comes in Monday mornings

to drop off the supplies he picked

up earlier that day from Sam’s Club.

Fucker never buys enough

floor cleaner anyway, so you’re

scrubbing the floor with bleach

by week’s end, which doesn’t really

work, but nobody listens to you so

don’t bother bringing it up.

Raise your voice and be known

as the complainer around here. Just run

the month-old disposable mop

head smelling of piss and pepperoni

over the floor,  and be sure to pick up

the split-end threads that fall out when

you vigorously scrub down those mysterious

gooey black spots. You could throw

those loose mop threads in the trash

one-by-one as they appear on the tile,

but you might as well stuff ’em in your pocket,

wait ‘til you’re done, and throw that shit

away all at once. Saves time. And you already

smell like pizza and farts anyway since you

just cleaned the floor drain out. At least

you got to yell “fuck” as loud as you wanted

when the drain butter spattered on you as

you sprayed that shit down. Manager didn’t

care. Too busy blowing his paycheck up his nose

in that bathroom you just cleaned. Still is.

The bathroom door finally opens and he comes

out stretching in an over-exaggerated and

accomplished fashion and initiates some

uncomfortable eye contact. His smile twitches

and he says, “Whatcha wanna hear tonight?”

You smile back and say, “Whatever is cool, man.”

But secretly, you hope it’s Maiden.

-Bearshaman

My First Spooky Piece of Writing

The night when ghosts roam about.

The night when all the witches come out.

The night when goblins give us a fright.

When is this time?

Halloween night!

————————————-

This one was around 4th-5th grade. I wrote it for one of those fake lit mags that accepts everyone in that grade’s poems and then forces the parents to pay way too much to buy a copy of the book.

-Bearshaman

My First Spontaneous-Overflow-of-Emotions Poem

The River

Today I saw the river,

so clean, so blue.

And once I took a look at it,

my heart was pure and true.

I stood there for an hour,

overtaken by its power.

Today I saw the river,

so clean, and pure.
——————-

I want to say this one was written around 3rd-4th grade.

I know it might be a little hard to believe, but it is, in fact, about a river.

-Bearshaman

Some Rambling on Writing

Chatterdank7

You know that whole thing about writing every day and how everybody should do it?

I’m not sure I really agree with that. I mean, I’m sure it works for some people.

But I tend to think it’s more like muscle training: occasionally, you have to give it a rest. If you don’t, your muscles don’t recover properly and your progress doesn’t properly get saved.

Not to say that I wouldn’t love to be able to write something I could fall in love with every day of my life.

Another big factor in my experience is inspiration. If you don’t experience life, you can’t write about it. You can’t glean the glimmers if you never stumble upon them.

Not to mention there’s that whole being able to achieve a proper flow state thing. The key to unlocking a flow state at will seems to be squirreling itself into new hiding places around my brain each time I think I’ve got a firm grip on it.

In other news, I’m reading Redshirts right now and it’s hella good. My first Scalzi book.

Anyhow, done rambling.

Have a continually and increasingly groovy day!

-Bearshaman

The First Poem I Remember Writing

There once was a shepherd from Titan,

who fished, cuz the fish were a-bitin’.

But once it was dawn,

the fish were all gone,

and over his flock wolves were fightin’.

I wrote that sometime between second and third grade for a limerick assignment. Looking back, I find it very interesting that I borrowed the word “Titan” from the game Final Fantasy 2 which I had been recently playing at a friend’s house on SNES. I guess some things never change.

-Bearshaman