the things i do to make the drive from work home go by a little more quickly.

there is also something about putting all of your eggs into one basket as a labor-saving technique in the process of counting all of your chickens before they hatch.--- which is just as dumb. [see: "a bad joke. but a clean one. below].

but before you go thinking something like, "that's not funny": whats really not funny is the sound of i-swear-to-god a crying dog like right outside your window. or the funeral parlor on the corner where sometimes coming home from work you see them carting a body around under a maroon blanket.
christ, man.
stay positive.

a bad joke. but a clean one

I remember as a child, my father who late in the evening, after several whiskeys and just before retiring to bed, had a habit of emptying the change from his trouser pockets. Then removing the pennies, he would wander around the house and delicately place them heads-up in any odd place, beside the third banister on the stair, next to his left shoe, peeking out from under the rug in the hall, etc. Then in the morning he would pick them all up again and place them back into his pocket. Once, I suppose as soon as I was old enough to realize the peculiarity of it, I asked him why he went through this ritual each morning and night. He put me on his lap and said to me, “Keith, a man makes his own good luck”.

day off

day off, originally uploaded by keithrobertbush.

Shove self-righteous douchebaggery up the ass of dismissive snobbishness.
Give yourself a headache.
Build a perpetual leisure machine.
Dream about red ink.
Imagine yourself on a boat.
Forget yourself, Fuck yourself.
Over-indulge in self-denial?
Chain-smoke and to hell with your own ideas.
Make big plans for yourself. Go downstairs.
Jibe!
Get rid of your headache.
Forget over and over to brush your teeth.
Bundle up, fart, and pretend.
Feel dumb-lazy-crazy. Tomorrow won’t.
Miss your brother.
Redesign your machine.
Reef. Realize they’re all huge flakes.
You are too. Laugh at it.
Get down to the significance of the wall-eyed cat.
If any.
Too much time on your hands? Wipe it off on the internet.
Shit, man.

more griping

more griping, originally uploaded by keithrobertbush.

Dear Philly Wi-Fi,
I heard this thing recently about you crashing. crapping out, if you will. If there is any truth to this, it means that what I am currently picking up here is some sort of mysterious residual signal thats just floating around. I'm scraping the bowl here, milking it dry, whatever. But i've opened the window to aid in the flow of the spare little internet particles ino the house and to the tin-foil antenna that i've devised and attached to my spare USB port. but then again, i'm no scientist, and don't know anything about how any of this really works.
it's like that chicken soup thing when you have a cold. it might not help, but hell, it couldn't hurt right? I should tell you, philly wifi, that i think i lifted that chicken soup adage from some sort of womens' aging-gracefully-and-keeping-a-stylish-home type of magazine that i found at my mother's house. but she's aging okay, if you ask me, and her home is simply gowahgeous, so they've got some credibility to me, y'know?
jesus...
so what am i getting at here? couldn't tell ya, really. just having some coffee and planning my next move, which invariably begins with going out back for a cigarette and chasing off the gang, [flock?, gaggle?, murder?, pod?] of stray cats who gather in our back yard. i think the one that looks like garfield is the "peter pan" to their "lost boys". he's certainly the biggest. and his makeshift throne made out of fishbones further supports this assumption.
Note- we think one of them [the cats] infiltrated the house somehow.
Oh well, so i mean, is there any sort of cohesive, or in any way noteworthy thing to tell you about my most recent happenings and misadventures? lessons learned? profound insight gained?
well, for one thing. Do not body-slam your house guests. this is just poor hospitality.
Furthermore, do not spend too much time thinking about anything that has ever happened to you, anyone you've ever met, etc. Ever, this will do nothing but bum you out. conciousness is a bitch sometimes, and you can easily avoid it by reading constantly about other people's experiences, or sleeping. oftentimes the former helps ease you into the latter. If neither of these methods works, get drunk [quietly, and alone] or fuck around on the internet [but be careful to ration what's left of it].


PS. a package just came for maxwell, from CHINA. it's got chinese all over the box. I have every reason to believe this package contains a real live tattoo machine. keep yr fingers crossed. and come pay us money to mark you all up.
i have a steady hand, promise.

go fuck yourself,
keith

PHILLY WI-FI