Note (from earlier Facebook Posting)

by Phil Cheney on Saturday, February 26, 2011 at 10:11am

Free form flow of consciousness, the Algonquin Diner, fourth of July mini bar. I had heralded a star and went to search through boxes and found Apes draped and lots of locks but not one cape, capiche? I woke up and was told of a dream, Pantless Protests and Trombone Flash Mobs. The World is waiting for the Sunrise. Down their gullets with our Surprise. Don’t order slurpies and a large fries. When did You get here? I’ve been washed up on over one thousand seashores and found seahorses by the scores and even eaten hors d’oeuvres. I know I’ve had my share of snow, the Harems grow but soon they will be overflowed, where do all the extras go? Can we rent a boat, or even a flotilla of Gorillas or Guerrillas? Who’s gonna take my tortilla chip mask, my fur mask’s been missing quite a while. Has anyone seen my one piece snow suit? I don’t remember where I left it but it’s really hard to miss. Brown with reflective stripes on its arms and legs. Who knows? I activate my ¡Yogurt! corn daydream, nightmare, underpants, day-glow, driftwood, airstream, mini-mart, dribble art, hand made cart, have You a heart? when did the Mailman get to start such long-winded orations? I’m going back inside now, the battery is almost dead. My 7 and one half year-old apple laptop has only got about half-an-hour battery lifetime anymore these days. I’m running on a fume but refuse to stop dreaming these dreams I’ve had for my whole life and per haps for longer, it’s true. When I find my stuff and get back on the bus, I will send a whole fax note to You…

The End of Squirtable Coffee into a Tiny Cup.

BIG Milestone here at RBP today: They finally removed the Antique Coffee Machine from downstairs, that squirted water from somewhere into a tiny cup and some powered mix, depending on whether You wanted Your coffee “Black” or “Cream” or “Cream and Sugar” plus “Hot Cocoa”. The rise of the Starbucks Coffee Culture put an end to Sub Truck Stop level Coffee and so that machine hadn’t been used in an Eon, except upon occasion by a brand-new Tenant out of curiosity. Now a large hole next to the Uni-Sex bathroom, I expect at least one person crashing into the wall by misjudging the distance, as that machine was in its place for nigh on 12 + years (as long as i have been here and probably longer).

An Addendum to the Aforementioned Great Blue Heron post.

I did some searching and came up with the original writings made when last the Great Blue Heron landed in my back yard in Candler, NC. Mid Winter of 2010.

This was a collaboration between myself and NaTasha Shealy, however there is no indication here as to who wrote what, so my apologies to Ms. Shealy:

Come back Mister Great Blue Herring Bone suit, the site of You makes me toot my flute. Old Man in ragged coat, a fine feathered Bloke. A Great Blue Heron came at Dusk, Grey of feather, Orange of tusk. Leg like stick on Winter limb, he looked to watch small fishes swim. He prehistoric, not a stork, His long beak both spoon and fork. Sit and watch small fishes swim. Leg like stick on Winter limb.

So there’s that.

Old Man on one leg stands, grey of feather, long of beak…

done by me, many years ago.

The Great Blue Heron came today. He flew in from the West through the low mist and barren trees. He looked like a Pterodactyl on his approach and at first I mistook him for a Vulture. That was my observation on this early dawn, freshly out of bed, with the pulsing pop of the Percolator in my immediate ear-shot. There was ice inside the windows of my bed room, so thick I couldn’t see outside, normally a clear view of the little creek and forest beyond is visible. I arose earlier than usual because of the cold and got to see the Great Blue Heron and his prehistoric Stork stance. I last saw him creeping down the creek, looking for fishes as the sun-warmed thicket began to steam. There was still snow in the woods behind the creek, ascending the Hillock which is there, of which I am speaking. The snowy remnants of a dusting on Wednesday night. That night I went out into the snow, for my favorite time is when it’s falling (for snow, that is). I sat in my tiny Hut on the section of completed wood flooring, next to a tiny heater, trying to get warm. There is a broken window high up in the right-hand corner, where the ladder fell on Sunday as I was screwing in a board below that same window. It’s a big, jagged crack with some missing pieces. I keep reminding myself not to sit below it. I need to take out the remaining shards of glass that still dangle there like a translucent sunburst

Before me on my cluttered desktop is a spotted banana, freckled with brown, changing color as I type this, soon the freckles will be yellow. If I don’t eat it before long, the Fruit Flies will carry it off. Having just observed this scenario, I am reminded of the oft considered sentence, “Time flies like an arrow; Fruit flies like a banana”, which I googled and found out from Wikipedia that it is a “garden-path sentence”, which I did not know but because of the number of times I have run this set of words through my mind, it does make sense. Further into Wikipedia, I found out that “A garden path sentence is a grammatically correct sentence that starts in such a way that the reader’s most likely interpretation will be incorrect.” I also discovered, just now, that this blog entry is an example of a grouping of Tangential Asides, some of which, are among my favorite types of things. Au revoir, mes amis!