When I played in the sandbox, the cat kept covering me up.

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While Oysters Make Pearls...

I saw God
in three dolphins
swimming
I sat in his sandbox

the seagull's footprints
reminded me
of peace signs
upside down

nature is whaling
while oysters make
pearls...

I am playing
in God's sandbox
soaking up
the sublime

Mother Ocean
Mother Earth
Mother
me

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I'd never played a cop before, and this particular role with what she is going thru, especially during the first season, covering her alcoholism to her on the job performance, was a great opportunity for me as an actress.

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Archaeology is the peeping Tom of the sciences. It is the sandbox of men who care not where they are going; they merely want to know where everyone else has been.

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Richard Brautigan

Part 9 of Trout Fishing in America

SANDBOX MINUS JOHN

DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT?

Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I

took the baby and went down there this morning. They were

watering the cover with big revolving sprinklers. I saw some

bread lying on the grass. It had been put there to feed the

pigeons.

The old Italians are always doing things like that. The

bread had been turned to paste by the water and was squashed

flat against the grass. Those dopey pigeons were waiting until

the water and grass had chewed up the bread for them, so

they wouldn't have to do it themselves.

I let the baby play in the sandbox and I sat down on a bench

and looked around. There was a beatnik sitting at the other

end -of the bench. He had his sleeping bag beside him and he

was eating apple turnovers. He had a huge sack of apple turn-

overs and he was gobbling them down like a turkey. It was

probably a more valid protest than picketing missile bases.

The baby played in the sandbox. She had on a red dress

and the Catholic church was towering up behind her red dress.

There was a brick john between her dress and the church. It

was there by no accident. Ladies to the left and gents to the

right.

A red dress, I thought. Wasn't the woman who set John

Dillinger up for the FBI wearing a red dress? They called

her "The Woman in Red. "

It seemed to me that was right. It was a red dress, but so

far, John Dillinger was nowhere in sight. my daughter

played alone in the sandbox.

Sandbox minus John Dillinger equals what?

The beatnik went and got a drink of water from the fountain

that was crucified on the wall of the brick john, more toward

the gents than the ladies. He had to wash all those apple turn-

overs down his throat.

There were three sprinklers going in the park. There was

one in front of the Benjamin Franklin statue and one to the

side of him and one just behind him. They were all turning in

circles. I saw Benjamin Franklin standing there patiently

through the water.

The sprinkler to the side of Benjamin Franklin hit the left-

hand tree. It sprayed hard against the trunk and knocked some

leaves down from the tree, and then it hit the center tree,

sprayed hard against the trunk and more leaves fell. Then it

sprayed against Benjamin Franklin, the water shot out to the

sides of the stone and a mist drifted down off the water. Ben-

jamin Franklin got his feet wet.

The sun was shining down hard on me. The sun was bright

and hot. After a while the sun made me think of my own dis-

comfort. The only shade fell on the beatnik.

The shade came down off the Lillie Hitchcock Colt statue

of some metal fireman saving a metal broad from a mental

fire. The beatnik now lay on the bench and the shade was two

feet longer than he was.

A friend of mine has written a poem about that statue. God-

damn, I wish he would write another poem about that statue,

SO it would give me some shade two feet longer than my body.

I was right about "The Woman in Red, " because ten min-

utes later they blasted John Dillinger down in the sandbox.

The sound of the machine-gun fire startled the pigeons and

they hurried on into the church.

My daughter was seen leaving in a huge black car shortly

after that. She couldn't talk yet, but that didn't make any dif-

ference. The red dress did it all.

John Dillinger's body lay half in and half out of the sand-

box, more toward the ladies than the gents. He was leaking

blood like those capsules we used to use with oleomargarine,

in those good old days when oleo was white like lard.

The huge black car pulled out and went up the street, bat-

light shining off the top. It stopped in front of the ice-cream

parlor at Filbert and Stockton.

An agent got out and went in and bought two hundred

double-decker ice-cream cones. He needed a wheelbarrow

to get them back to the car.

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I can talk to anybody but when it comes to somebody that I like, then I turn into like this five-year-old kindergartener in a sandbox.

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When I worked in Los Angeles covering hard news, very often when something important would happen I'd be off in the woods covering something unimportant, which was more interesting to me.

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I think when I was two years old in the sandbox. I think I formulated my basic philosophy there, and I haven't really had to alter it very much ever since.

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Cannibal Surf Babe

(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth & john helmer)
Well she tied me to the headboard with a surf leach
And her wet hair hugged her body like a long-lost friend
And I really tried my best to get across to her
But nothing she would say could be defended
Well her birthday suit it was her only present
When I looked into her eyes - no history
And I told her eating people wasnt pleasant
But she laughed a snake eye laugh and walked away from me
I watched her as she walked across the coals
I watched her as she walked across the coals
She was singing: I was born in nineteen sixty weird
And I am your nightmare surfer babe
Mr. wilson wheres your sandbox and your beard
Are you still looking for the perfect microwave
So I did my best to try and get across her
I said: one day every pebble hits the beach
And I kissed her face and held her like a long-lost friend
But she was too far out there to be reached
She was singing: I was born in nineteen sixty weird
Im your nightmare surfer babe
Mr. wilson wheres your sandbox and your beard
Are you still looking for that perfect microwave?
And the sun came up over the mountain
And the waves rolled in across the bay
And the fabulous brightly coloured birds flew up out of the forest
And she said well were all heavens beautiful children livin together in paradise
Lie down my dear... youre going to enjoy this
She looked like shed had sex
With a tyrranosaurus rex
She was singing: I was born in nineteen sixty weird
Im your nightmare surfer babe
Mr. wilson wheres your sandbox and your beard
Are you still looking for that perfect microwave?
And I watched her as she walked across the coals
And I watched her as she walked across the coals

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I went back to the States and started at a small newspaper in Riverside County, California, covering the police; I was making $280 a week covering the police.

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Jenna Elfman

It was the most pleasurable thing I've ever done, playing this character, and I just remember feeling so at home and so - I don't know, I was just happy - and it just wasn't ever work! It was like a sandbox for me, and I would crack myself up rehearsing.

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I have played in rain before. I have played in wind before. I have played in cold before, but not all put together. They were the hardest conditions I ever played in.

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A Guided Tour Around The Swings

You come into the playground,
And want me to explain how things work?
No problem!

You see that sandbox over there.
Cover your head entirely with the sand.
Go ahead...
Do that and then raise your arm,
Until I come over...
To dig you out and pull you through.

And then I will take you on a guided tour,
Around the swings!
How's that?

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Where They Meet For Drinks

Some are shocked,
By my responses.
And my adult point of view.
And somehow I am not surprised...
When I hear someone whine,
About a missing lollipop...
Discovered gone from the sandbox,
At the playground where they meet for drinks!

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In My Dreamy And Happy Childhood, I Play Mathematics And No Music

seven a garden and a lawn
five the high jump
eight a thuja hedge
three the sandbox near lavender
four a sky venus
six an apple tree
two countless letters and numbers
one an acoustic piano

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My father actually moved out from Chicago just so he could play tennis 365 days a year, so it was - it was a place we played every day. We played before school. We played after school. We woke up. We played tennis. We brushed our teeth in that order.

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Loop Quantum Cosmology In A Holy Spirit

A secret psalm
From the Red Sea

In my rayless face
Your gravitational eyes

Violet moss
You sing a stellar lullaby to the shepherd

In a sandbox
The whirlwind steams

A half moon falls
To the ground

Under the dust of snow
Slowly

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The Weekend Blues Session

Three days and three nights
playing the guitar blues of life
my mind and body taken back

I can see
the old streets and the seats
where the blues players of old
used to meet

They'd sing of the pain
and the hate
and we'd respect what they
had to say

All these memories coming back
as we played for the times
when blues was our life

We played for the joy
we played for our minds
we played for our souls
we played until the monday morning blues

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The Oldest Game Played

The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.

Initiating disturbances,
And claiming to be victimized...
Is decreasing in its effectiveness.
People finally are opening their eyes.

The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.

They begin with pretense to befriend someone.
Like the smile of a demon,
To ensure its welcome.
And then to make claims...
Of something despicable the innocent one has done,
To then defame and assassinate good character...
With a perception that success,
Is soon to be won!

The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.

Those 'Woe is me I don't know what happened' facades...
Are being stripped away for what they are.
Those who deceive and lie,
With pity party invitations...
Have devastated friendships and relationships,
Behind masqueraded false faces.

The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.

'Why would they lie like that?
Deceive and create conflict? '

~What is it that you have they might perceive,
As a value to them? ~

'Well...
Nothing I haven't with them shared.'

~They did not want it shared!
They wanted it theirs.~

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You have to remember that I played longer than anybody else on the main tour; I played until I was 40, and then played another six years or so on the seniors tour.

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Lame Game

It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
It's all the same...
A lame game!

It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
And the game
Being played...
Is so lame!

It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
It's all the same.
A lame game!

It's all the same,
When a game is played lame,
And the game being played
By the players who play...
Is so tired and lame anyway!

And lame it will stay everyday!

'Cause they 'got no' shame
To play such tired games
Knowing it's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
And the game stays the same
'Cause no one wants to change
From a game that is lame..
And each day that lame game,
Stays the same!

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