Discovery

I took up this writing challenge from Pictures, Poetry and Prose. I found this wonderful site by reading the offerings of the Bard from OZ, J. Cosmo Newbury. If you haven't stopped in and read his material, you are jilting yourself, but he does request that you visit with a glass of pinot noir in hand (I made that up, but he may adopt it in the future). So with no further ado, I present to you, my interpretation of the photo above, entitled Discovery.

DISCOVERY

My college professor for freshman English
assigned us the essay, "Look at your Fish".
I was so unprepared, my head he could squish.
To be anywhere else was my only wish

The story involved a scientific pupil once hesitant,
who had to keep reinspecting his droll assignment,
and each day he took up his mind-numbing regiment
he discovered a new symmetry or minute alignment.

I now find it simply amazing and amusing,
that for twenty-five years his insight I've been using.
The lesson which he strived to make so unconfusing,
was for us to be in a constant state of perusing.

Long ago, being the student who had finally caught on
I now look at my "fish" until dusk, from first dawn.

The paths my mind wanders....

I offer to you some random limericks, written for my own enjoyment, but I hope you find them entertaining too. I will preface these by saying that I am completely comfortable with the balance in my brain between my raw sexual appetite and the softer, gentler longing for affection and romance. The two are intertwined and if done right are experienced at the same time with a loving partner in a sharing environment. But my mind jumps around alot and those are not the only things swirling around in that stew pot of mine. So feast on my preaparations and savor every last drop of sustanance that I can convey to you, my hungry readers. As usual, comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. And the winners of the last Caption COntest and the new photo will be offered up tonight.


I endeavor forever to find you.
In each nook I look, as is due.
Like a coon dog on a scent
My tenacity won't repent.
My pod is a pea short and won't do.

Like Icarus I soared thru the sky
In my exuberance at getting to fly
I buzzed the great ball of joy
my wax wings held up like a toy
As I spiral downwards I'm left to ask, "Why?"

Jesus walked for forty nights and days
trying to navigate his own mental haze
Even as Satan did try to detour
twas our Savior he just could not lure
into partaking in his decadent ways.

I won't deny the natural truth
that men are inherently uncouth
we like to burp, fart and fight
and shag day and night
changing us is like pulling your own tooth

I have two chips off the block not just one
A lovely daughter and a handsome young son
My first ex-wife I repeatedly implore
of their time, to relinquish me more
she resists and just twists the blade for fun

My hands get all clammy and cold
Every time I get close I am told
My heart starts to race
at an incredible pace
For me, love just never gets old

From the playground he did abscond
with a redhead, a brunette and a blonde
vigorous lucky young Georgie
had his sights on a four-way orgy
And finished "the tour" like Greg Lemond

beads of sweat tend show up yet
ever shorter as my breath does get
I embrace the quivering flesh
of the woman with whom I mesh
And I find I am not the only one wet.

After her succulent thighs did I sunder
With an Austrailian kiss did I plunder
If you have yet to have one of those
I assure you it will curl your toes
It's just like a French kiss but down under.

It's a long weary trek....

My true love, where are you found hiding?
Your prolonged absence keeps me deriding
my own resolve, which is now back-sliding
due to long lonely days so unabiding
to my psyche which seems to be gliding
along in its manic depression. I'm chiding
myself for believing I must keep riding
into the bleak dark night so uninviting.
Your possible existence fuels my minds' writing,
I pause to smoke in the wind so biting
and rest my eyes from dreary dim lighting
Ignoring the impulse to yield from my fighting
for my struggle, I, the queen should be knighting
until then I'll partake some more white lightning
to help keep my weary spirits from alighting
thereby crushing my hopes, how frightening!

10 Revelations of Stewey

It has been toooooo long since I have done the blog thing. I need to get back into it and so I am doing this little exercise that I gleaned off of someone else's blog. I wasn't awarded the award, but I liked the idea of how it worked, so here goes. I am revealing ten facts about myself.

1. I believe in a higher power. I struggle with my faith, but I do believe that all of this here on earth is just too damn complicated to have occurred at random. I am not sure what this higher power is, but I don't think that, as people, we are in control.

2. Out of nine males in my family, I am the only one who is not an Eagle Scout. And judging from the way some of my brothers have turned out, I don't think it was all it was made out to be. I would try harder to get it if I could have a do over, but we don't get many of those, do we?

3. As much as people think I hate my ex-wife, I don't. I am unhappy with the decisions she has made that have affected me, but I do not hate her. In fact, some people still think I have some love for her and they may just be right.

4. I would do anything for my kids, including take a life (even my own).

5. Although I love rugby and will support it and play it as long as my body will let me. I am even better at soccer.

6. I can't follow my career path because of convictions for assault and drug possession. In theory, nobody wants a coach for their kids who has a shady history.

7. I have been solicited many times to coach children's teams, even after admitting to my criminal convictions.

8. My son told me this holiday season that he wants a brother (he has a sister and a half-sister), and I would be willing to give him one if I could.

9. I have (in my own opinion) an over active sexual appetite, but I have a hard time starting relationships because I have something a partner wouldn't want. And I can't keep that away from a partner before sharing a romantic experience. Catch twenty two??

10. I have been in love with four great women and have managed to screw it up each time. Consequently, I am hesitant to give my heart away again, for fear of going through the grieving process anew. Maybe someday.......

One of the latest commenters I've come across is a fine fellow with the wit for words, Mr. J. Cosmo Newbery. He and I traded blurbs about an eatery that is known around parts of Texas as Freebirds. It is a burrito shop that is just wonderful. They offer great food, great prices and a great environment. They have locations in Houston, Austin, Dallas and Fort Worth (and maybe more); but originated in College Station (home of Texas A&M University). He could not understand my deep devotion to their wares, as I stated that I would actually die for one (I wouldn't, but don't tell them that). So, for Mr. Newbery; I offer my own creation attesting to their grandeur. I hope it pleases.

Freebird!! Freebird!!
from College Station you did spring
expanding ever outward
'tis my palate you make sing.
first taste that doth tickle which
with what type of tortilla fare
flour, wheat, or spinach
(of the cayenne please beware)
loaded with the diner's choice
steak or chicken if you please
the white or dark meat oh so moist
or combination with loads of cheese
On to the fillers down the line
rice and beans, mighty fine
four different sauces could be mine
all for the price of 6.99
wait there's more lend an ear
four different sizes can be had
wash it down with choice of beer
the pair will leave you feeling glad
A half bird or a full is all
that i can handle personally
the double or the monster, gawl!!
those would force me to one knee.
And after my hunger I do sate,
entertain myself with poor man's art
shiny silver wrapping left on my plate
mash and twist it or tear it apart.
fold it and add to it another
piece of that foil to complete
a shiny sculpture like no other
my own creation, very neat.
Having migrated home back west
with your absence I want to cry
of all the burrito shops you are best
for yours alone I would die.

Free at last, free, free at last.....

My daughter and son have been grounded recently, and justifiably so. They each received horrendously bad grades on their last progress report. So they have been without computer privileges for a few weeks. Now they are free and what does she do?? She comes straight to my site and reads the wicked little ode I wrote about her mother for the new boy toy. She leaves a nice little sarcastic message in the comments and then drops her own submission for the last Caption Contest (incredibly late but quite good I may say). She even used the word contortionist, which is a mighty fine word. She continues to impress me at every turn. She is wonderful. Vana Lea, I am sorry for upsetting you with my written gift to your step-father. Should I mail it to him?? I think not. However, there are quite a few lady bloggers out there that are going through the similar situation I am. I have seen how they vent and get upset with their once significant others, as I do and am. So I am curious as to their take on this. I am taking suggestions and comments, no offense will be taken so spill your true feelings about any part of the whole spitsville mess. And with that in mind, I offer up another of my minds twisted little word-works. I hope you enjoy it or that it touches or helps anyone else in any way.

My father never taught me
My father taught me a lot of things
In his time before he passed.
About the way were supposed to live,
Until the time we breathe our last.
Things like love of nature,
And striving to be best,
Respecting those around you
and saving to invest.
Talking to God everyday,
Striving for something better
Solving problems your own way
and preparing for bad weather.
But of all the things of which I learned
From he whose loin I came,
Some of the lessons that I learned
are bound to bring him shame.
Fiery temper, and tongue of acid
And mean streak a mile wide,
Crassness and a wandering eye
Are traits I wish too hide.
How to be argumentative, and
Throw around your weight.
Intimidating everyone with
Careless words of hate.
Which brings me to the things
Of which he did not dare
Share any of the wisdom
That gave him no gray hair.
Like how to cope with loss
of wife or taming something so wild
as the anger in my heart at
loss of beloved child.
My father never taught me
How to handle so, these things that
Trouble my lonely heart
And tear me down so low.
And I pray that in my days
I spend with my children over time
That they learn from my mistakes
And don’t have to write or live this same rhyme.
Stu Pidasso February 8, 2004

Speaking of taming wild inner beasts, we travel to Dallas this weekend for one of our cup rugby matches. I fully intend to vent my inner anger on some poor unsuspecting fool from the DFW Metroplex. It is my anger management program, because I feel so much better (mentally not physically) after grinding some other person's head into the mud and having the same done to me. In reality, it is as close to being in a warrior's battle in this day and age as most men can get. It allows me to test my physicality and mental resolve against others in a semi-hostile environment. Because of my moments on the rugby field, I am fully confidant that I could chase down , catch, kill and bury any criminal that would make the mistake of targeting my family (and that is if I buried him instead of cooking him and serving him to the crack addicts downtown). Gone are most the reasons and opportunities for the young men today to be the hunters, warriors and protectors that God intended us to be. I relish my time on the pitch as I know my advancing age is bringing those days to a quick end. But until I can play no more, I will strive to be like the most awe-inspiring rugby warrior I know, Stirling Mortlock. Enjoy the picture ladies.

Looooooooong weekend

I spent the majority of my weekend on the road again. This time it was a trip to the revered halls of College Station. I got to see my kids in a swim meet for the first time. It was an all day affair, and the setting was spectacular. The student recreation center on the campus of Texas A&M is magnificant. The mass of kids representing all of the high schools there to compete was enormous. My kids, being a freshman and a sophmore, did well; but did not advance to any semi-final events. But they did get to see the campus and experience some of the local life during the day. We ate at one of the original Freebird's burrito shops (to die for). We got to see the original Dixie Chicken. They got to see the A&M alumni war memorial (apologies for not capitilizing that or spelling it wrong or even identifying it wrong as I am sure it has a very specific name). This place is in respect of all the alumni who have given their all for country. There is no walking on the grass and there is no wearing of hats inside the building, and the current corps members are more than eager to admonish anyone to stupid or careless to read and understand the signs. It was a good experience for my kids. If they are to chose T A&M for their higher education, I'll be glad to work my ass off to help them earn a degree from that fine establishment.

But the trip was long (7 hours one way trip) and tiresome. It was up at 6am and in bed at 11pm and go, go , go all the way. Then another two hours to Houston to drop them with the duck and schmuck, then nine hours back to home. All in all, I'd drive a million miles for my kids and I like to travel, but I do pay the price. Pictures and more news on that later.

Now, let's talk tomboys. As a rugger in this fine nation where girls and women have more opportunities than anywhere else in the world, I see a lot of womens' sports and especially rugby. Browsing some of the rucking womens' blog pages, I came across this post about being a tomboy. It seems that Nike has a new ad campaign out concerning the athletesism of women. It comes with a little poetic statement about one girl's knees and the effect it has on whether she will ever get married. It is posted below with my own response to any woman who may feel that way.



From a Flanker

My knees
are tomboys.
They get bruised and
cut everytime i play rugby.
I'm proud of them
and wear my dresses short.
My mother worries
I will never marry
with knees like that.
But i know
there's someone out there
who will say to me:
I love you
and I love your knees.
I want the four of us
to grow old together

Just do it.


If the choice were mine to make,
a tomboy o'er a princess I'd take.
Give me scrapes, cuts and a bruise,
A hard nosed woman I would chose.
Simply for the respect of it,
I'd know she wouldn't take any shit.
A short skirt and a shiner to
anything less just wouldn't do.
Tell your mother "Have no fear.
I've found a hooker to bring me beer.
No. No, mom; not that kind of hooker.
He's a rugger and a damn good looker!!
He's content to sit and watch,
as I make the other team my bi-otch!!
Baby, I beg "Don't quit, please!!"
Because I love you and I love your knees!!
So let's to the pitch no matter the weather,
just say you'll grow old with me, together.

Just do it!!