tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-458311741849453682.post7556162769637190306..comments2023-05-20T07:28:16.837-04:00Comments on the ferry blog: where i am from? i lost me map, mate and have had all this rum.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-458311741849453682.post-57572295675588709912007-03-09T18:29:00.000-05:002007-03-09T18:29:00.000-05:00Captain...post the freakin' thing on the main page...Captain...post the freakin' thing on the main page.beefyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06818484422366761549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-458311741849453682.post-57465182090400392732007-03-08T20:15:00.000-05:002007-03-08T20:15:00.000-05:00i am from petoskey stones, from volkswagen scirocc...i am from petoskey stones, <BR/>from volkswagen sciroccos and delta 88s.<BR/> <BR/>i am from shady hollows, midwest sewage-creeks and crayfish, (contagious and safely wild like the silent anticipation of thunder).<BR/><BR/>i am from the weeping willow by the gravel drive out front (out back) and snails sticking to the spiles.<BR/> <BR/>i am from the detroit tigers and sunburns, from ruthie and the jims and the ghost of bizmarck. <BR/><BR/>i am from the beach boys and carbon monoxide.<BR/><BR/>i am from the egg-shell-walkers, the tragic-nostalgics, and the tongue-swallowers.<BR/><BR/>from “ that’s why you’ll never go to disney world” and “we’ll see”.<BR/> <BR/>i am from outside the windows of the church with the red of reprimands and from the invisible fence at my bedroom door.<BR/><BR/>i’m from harsen’s island and sutton’s bay, penny candy and cincinnati chili. <BR/><BR/>i am from scott’s sunken boat, big bob’s crocheted penis warmer, and wbf’s final now-you-see-him-now-you-don’t trick. <BR/><BR/>i am from the cabinets’ top shelves in the utility room holding 10 stories for every 1 i know but won’t remember. but god i wish i could. i remember the feeling if not the particulars. calm like a sunday with a royal flush and a whiskey sour is the feeling for the dusty wedding shower gift that arrived there at a lawn party in the summer of ’73 i know nothing about. i am from there and i have landed at a place without lawn parties but with the distinct history of them. a place without loud nights on porches but with the wisps of those sounds still in the air and squatting like the ocean in the shell. a place that has never gone beyond the attempt to rival the heritage of a time it lived out, always sad in the short fall. everything looks better in the quick-clip of 8 mm film.<BR/><BR/>i am from those silent, scratchy films. i am in them, there to see, small and toothless, waving and moving faster than i ever will, trying to catch up with where i am from and wondering how to go back.angus - the "CHAIRMAKER"!https://www.blogger.com/profile/15377382332399136890noreply@blogger.com