Me: What dressing would you like on your salad?
C: French.
Me: Ranch?
C: FRENCH!
Me: French?
C: (Confused) Not Ranch?
Me: Yup, French.
C: French?
Me: Sure.
C: Do you have Dorothy Lynch?
*(I have this dialogue at least 1 or 2 times a night).
S. L. Ehrisman (c) 3/7/11
He ate a 16 oz. T-Bone
drank 6 glasses of house merlot
and ordered a bacon cheeseburger to go
then dined and ditched . . . pretty ballzy.
he wore a Freightliner hat, western shirt, cowboy boots and no pants.
C: What’s that on my hamburger bun?
ME: What?
C: That yellow stuff?
ME: Mustard.
C: (Confused look)
ME: How about I get you a new bun without it on there?
C: Okay.
ME: Next week come back, and I’ll explain ketchup to you (it’s the red stuff).
S. L. Ehrisman (c) 2/28/11
I FUCKING HATE BIRTHDAYS
C: What do you do for kid’s birthdays?
ME: We hold them upside down by their feet, stick their head in a toilet bowl and flush it, while singing happy birthday to them, of course.
S. L. Ehrisman (c) 2/28/11
A PIRATE HUTTERITE . . .
. . . sat at table 56 tonight.
Yo, Ho, Ho and a bottle of raisin wine.
S. L. Ehrisman (c) 2/28/11
Doing imaginary work
Very calming
Charles Luden • 2-26-11 • at Black Sheep
Screen Overload
Took two aspirins
One vitamin A
Placed a warm moist towel upon my eyes
Nightmares on the way
Charles Luden • 2-26-11 • at Black Sheep
Old Ones
Do you darn your socks
Damn them
Or just throw them away?
Charles Luden • 2-27-11 • at home
Here’s a fragment poem from my extensive archive. This one probably destined for a future book of mine. Note: Hope Sandoval is the vocalist of the group Mazzy Star and also of The Warm Inventions. – C. L.
Revelations At The Mind Bar
I have a pen, and I must write.
One shouldn’t waste time or tools.
The smiling waitress agrees with a gesture
worthy of a fashion model turned cab driver.
Then Hope Sandoval sings on the jukebox,
and everyone here does nothing for a long time
becoming conceptual artists now traveling
in a smoke lumen note drenched aerosol.
Unable to see the wall, I reach for
the shot glass and bang!
Her eyes drill through the smoke;
the woman behind me from art scribble school
is rendering my torso as a notebook blob
blending all the years.
Charles Luden • 9-9-97 at Champps
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EeMTSDwp8tQ&feature=related[/youtube]
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