California, specifically the Central Valley, also known as "The Kill Zone." Lived 6 years in Eugene OR, aka "Hobo Capital of the Universe".
Philosophy
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?
I believe it does.
Poets
They are everywhere.
Books
Better
Music
living
Movies
through
Foods
poetry
Hobbies
Writing, reading, making music, drawing, dark beer, (who amI kidding? Beer in general) , shots of wine (just kissed the whiskey goodbye), and half smoked ciggarettes.
Hello Sean, on your report of Catcher In The Rye. You are rock on to write you views. I have been told for years by so called experts this is brilliant or that, and if I do not like it, must be because something is wrong with men Wrong. If I do not like it and think its crap (simple) its crap. Power to your elbo.
Good call. I find there are a lot of people who can write really well, but don't seem to be able to branch out at all. Poetry is a great balm to negative emotions and loss, unfortunatley too many people are only moved to pick up a pen in those moods.
Another big thank you sean for your support. Thought I would take a leaf out of dear Spike Milligan's book and lighten up a bit, had great fun writing See Clearly Now.
thnks 4 faveing the sound of drums thats the first poem ive ever witten and it won a contest so i decided 2 put it on here and a few others i wrote recently
Hello Sean. As an artist myself, I realy like your two cover art pics, great stuff, the guitar more so because I now have bad arthritis, and my hands no longer can make chords to play my guitar, and so my poem (Sad Guitar) I was 70 years old on 29 March when you posted pics, they pleased me big time.
03/31/10
Human Anatomy Sean Carlisle
Have you been to the body room?
To the end of all things?
In the place where I work
Are four semi clear sheets
They each have a table
As cold as steel and sterile
On the table and under the sheets
Is something vague but familiar
I unlock without a knock
I peek my hand in shadow
I crawl the wall I flip the light
I sweep and mop the weighted night
Yet, you see..
At times a sudden urge grows
To walk over and take a peak
But I know the thing that sleeps there
Will someday wake for me
Have you talked with the last guy yet?
Who refuses to go in?
Whom does not think he isn't a fool?
To play this game and dream he'll win!
They keys adorn my ring now
To the body room no doubt
Many have held the keys before
Many more the route.
Eugene, OR 2002/revised in the Valley 2010
Daddy played 3/4
My book report on...
'The Catcher in the Rye'
It started out okay enough I guess. I don't read many books or crap like that, but I heard this Salinger guy was okay. Trouble is, he's not a lousy writer, What I mean to say is, he doesn't write like a person would actually just write, and he wrote a little bit like a person who can write and knows he can write. Some people are like that. I hate crap like that. It goddamn depresses me. So I smoked some more cigarettes while trying to understand what all of this phoney crap was about, all of the sudden I couldn't stop reading. I'm crazy like that sometimes, I goddamn swear I really am. I read like a madman, sweating all hell to finish it. I don't know what came over me. I guess it was ok then, I mean, it must not have been completely lousy. Ole Salinger is ok, good 'ole Salinger. He kills me, He really does.
