tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-128068172011-12-14T20:36:22.828-06:00Factory Town is like a lot of other places. It has a day. It has a night. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes it shines. It gets hot. It gets cold. People move in. People move out. Business can boom. Business can die. You can get hired. You can get fired. People get born. People get dead. People remember. People forget. Souls are saved. Souls are lost. Factory Town does not go away when you sleep. Sure, you dream. Sometimes you dream of Factory Town. Sometimes you dream of that other place.Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.comBlogger1341100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-82494080674271552572010-03-30T14:57:00.004-05:002010-03-30T15:46:45.084-05:00

I don't know the address.I can tell you how to get there.Carlos and Michelle will call you at 9 in the morning.They will pick you up in the red car.The red car is playing music.Jazz music.The red car takes a left out of the side street.Then five minutes later a right.The zoo is on the left.Then up the hill.You will be in the old part of town.Dust returning to dust there.Up another hill.They have

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-49640431819655843482009-04-30T14:39:00.005-05:002009-05-04T13:31:47.899-05:00

It was the fall of 1969 or maybe 1970. It was one or the other. It was not both unless history repeats itself without bothering to let a person know. Well anyway the place was Iowa City. Rick and Erica were in need of a new bed.Rick use to play in a blues band. Played a Hammond B3. Until it was stolen he said. Someone said he traded it for some dope. I don't really know. Anyway I gave him my

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-78508624307447144832009-04-23T09:02:00.000-05:002009-04-23T09:03:14.745-05:00

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-81359592737690749152009-03-20T15:04:00.002-05:002009-03-20T17:01:05.302-05:00

This guy walked into the office today. He's on disabilty. He is always walking by here. Sometimes he stops by and talks. Talks for a few minutes and leaves. Sometimes asks for money. A buck or sometimes just a quarter. He walks everywhere. Use to have a car. An 83 maroon Bonneville. Somebody gave it to him. But he had to sell it. Said he he got $100 for it. I don't think so. Anyway he walks in

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-74329598867008596082009-03-06T16:26:00.004-06:002009-03-12T11:59:45.775-05:00

So we are here.In this place of excess and greed.In this time of hope and fear.I speak of apples.The core has been rotting.The maggots have been feasting.And now the skin is cracking.Puss is oozing out.Soon this apple will be dried out.What will happen to the seeds?Capital. Labor. Production. Solidarity. Empty. Justice. Essential. Means. Empires. Markets. Lost. Words like seeds.Seeds like

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-89598477681622086192009-01-31T16:19:00.003-06:002009-01-31T16:49:54.758-06:00

I want to know.Are they gone yet?I want to know.These guys have been hanging around a long time.Just when you think it is safe to go outside...There they are.Maybe they will never go away.I think they will be with us forever.They breed in the dark places.They tell big stories about the terrors out there.They want more want more weapons.They want more prison cells.They worship capital and sleep

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-31542797334012896132008-12-05T13:08:00.002-06:002008-12-05T14:06:55.704-06:00

To eat a pupusa you have to have a pupusa.First find a pupusaria.You could make your own.Or a friend could make you some.That lady up the street.Up on Court street.She makes them in her house and sells them.My wife calls her sobrina.But she is not her niece.They were born with the same last name.But different countries.Mexico and El Salvador.Pupusas are from El Salvador.You might not be going

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-27482643851952420682008-11-28T21:29:00.001-06:002008-11-28T21:29:51.219-06:00

Daptone Family Fundraiser for Barack Obama from mcr on Vimeo.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-2540030686052591012008-11-27T21:37:00.002-06:002008-11-27T21:43:36.785-06:00

Muestra 4_ThanksgivingSAMELLIS from planetaproducciones on Vimeo.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-83085158029405057432008-11-26T16:47:00.007-06:002008-11-27T21:49:14.640-06:00

It is not always easy to report on the past lives of others. Sometimes I suspect that people are making stories up when they tell me about their previous lives. Many people have reported that they were a cat in the court of some ancient Egyptian Pharoah. I will not bore you with the details of these feline lives. One interesting past life does come to mind."I recall being at the court of Wamses

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-33086525233715090882008-11-20T10:46:00.002-06:002008-11-20T12:05:12.374-06:00

Sometimes when people have told me about their past lives the remembrances have been somewhat confusing. The following is an example."When I was in Cincinnati I was a river boat gambler. No, maybe I was the captain of the boat. No, I was a gambler. It was sometime after the War Between the States in which I had served as a profiteer. With my gains I bought a BMW dealership in Queens. Later the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1813892986195394182008-11-14T10:52:00.002-06:002008-11-14T12:05:36.324-06:00

Sometimes when people have a moment to relax and reflect they begin to think about epistomology, physics and reincarnation. Often people that I know will just open up and tell me about their former lives. I would like to present to you some short versions of these former lives as they were related to me. I will not tell you the names of the people who told me about their former lives. Any names

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-41100818464142452362008-11-06T10:15:00.003-06:002008-11-06T14:51:48.198-06:00

1-Did they ever find the body?2-Can I have those shoes after you die?3-Did your mother ever have any children that lived?4-Who farted?5-Which side are you on?6-Do you know who won?7-Why do you care?8-What time does the train roll in?9-Can I have another one?10-Does this look like a face that cares?11-Why did she get chosen?12-Why is everybody always picking on me?13-Who wants to know?14-What's it

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-75928944687409676582008-08-21T11:07:00.003-05:002008-08-21T15:40:33.322-05:00

It was lunch time.We were in Boston.Down near Faneuil Hall.Durgin Park.Very old restaurant.Tourist place.But locals like it too.We walked in.Went upstairs.Sat down at a long white table.Big white room.Mouthy waitress.Long menu.I ordered clam chowder.He ordered the prime rib.A guy walks in.Older guy.Balding.Tall guy.Skinny guy.Plaid shirt.Khaki work pants.He sits down near us.Waitress asks him if

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-56598429164946236182008-08-06T22:46:00.002-05:002008-08-06T23:02:30.363-05:00

I have not been doing much writing this summer. I have just been hanging around. Watching TV and reading. And listening to music. Now here is someone who can really sing....Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-20545837859405583122008-07-31T10:42:00.003-05:002008-07-31T20:44:15.929-05:00

A good day for a picnic is Sunday.Anyday is a good day.You can have a picnic anywhere outside.Parks are popular.Hey you know what a picnic is don't you?It is where you take some food outside.Then you eat it.That is a picnic.Hot or cold.Day or night.Wet or dry.You can have a picnic.Ok let's start.Carry a table outside.Put it on the sidewalk.Bring some chairs out.Put a bowl of potato salad on the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-57396509638343926502008-06-10T13:43:00.004-05:002008-06-10T20:02:16.340-05:00

It was a hot day in August. It was 1969. I had just started looking for a place to live in Iowa City. I would be attending the University of Iowa. I had decided to transfer there a few months before.The day before my friend Eddie had given me a ride to Iowa City in his car. We spent the night in his dorm room.I was looking forward to getting my own place and Eddie was going to help me. He knew

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-92172171970514651002008-05-30T16:09:00.001-05:002008-05-30T16:09:31.373-05:00

I watched Vengo for the what seems like the 100th time last night. This is a song from the movie. Remedios Silva Pisa recorded it when she was 17. Haunting

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-31165031335372633182008-05-21T12:04:00.002-05:002008-05-21T12:43:58.311-05:00

This thing has been boiling up inside of me for awhile. See, I work in an office. My main source of exercise is walking down the hall to the vending machine room to buy junk food. This room has a pop machine and a vending machine with candy, chips, gum, nuts and pastries. Whoever has filled this machine lately is messing with my lifestyle. The vending machine usually has 2 rows of assorted

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-16126718288871070152008-05-15T20:37:00.004-05:002008-05-15T20:59:58.051-05:00

I have driven this street.Many towns.This same street.Always this same street.Always wide.Always long.This same street.Always this same steet.Corner gas stations.Body shops.Bars.Restaurants.Beauty parlors.Social clubs.Dollar stores.Dry cleaners.Pawn shops.Drugs.This same street.Always this same street.Always cloudy.Always a Brook Benton tune on the radio.My eyes always looking around.But knowing

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-54354566118117446112008-04-03T11:20:00.003-05:002008-04-03T11:54:00.930-05:00

Sometimes you have got to cook something up in a hurry.You don't have time to make a big deal dinner.But you want something that tastes good.So here is my solution.Put some water in a pot on the stove.Add some salt.Cover the pot with a lid.Ok, now go get a frying pan.Put it on the stove.Put some olive oil in it.Smash up a clove of garlic and throw it inChop up a couple of roma tomatoes.Put them

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-46912198187319087182008-03-19T22:11:00.003-05:002008-03-19T22:49:31.434-05:00

Let me talk about this thing.Without interruption.Without comment.Without laughter.I walk out the door.North thru the small park.Past the swing set.Where ghost girl swings unseen to me.It is not yet Spring.The snow is melting.There is that familiar smell.That smell of dirt waking up.I walk up the alley.Past the old garages with their marks of empire.Tagged by the Westside Locos.Tagged by

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-5383093393120805492008-02-15T08:31:00.004-06:002008-02-15T11:46:19.682-06:00

Today I was driving to work.Driving past the Carnegie Apartments.Listening to love songs on the car radio.Sha la la....I love you...I do...I doAnd then I remembered.It was a day so long ago.I was maybe ten years old.Charlie and I rode our bikes to the library.It was the old brown brick library.Brick from the brickyard south of town.Red tile roof.It was a Carnegie Library.I learned later about

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-90861064846396368482008-01-15T14:00:00.000-06:002008-01-15T15:36:24.671-06:00

We were going on vacation.Just my mother and me.Going to Lincoln, Nebraska.To see my aunt Blanche and uncle Carroll.I had to leave Chipper behind.Chipper was my hamster.Brown and white hamster.He had a metal cage with an exercise wheel.I left him with a friend.A trusted friend.He promised to feed Chipper.Chipper would be fine.I forgot to tell you.This was August, 1961.I was 13.Chipper was 2.Well

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-38665857741260783752007-12-27T15:33:00.000-06:002007-12-27T16:28:33.559-06:00

We went to the 7pm mass on Christmas eve. We usually go to the quadralingual midnight mass but we knew that we had to get up early the next day. The 7pm mass was in Spanish and ended with my favorite seasonal song...Los Peces en El Rio. In English this is The Fishes in the River. It is an old song. The author is unknown and the tune may be Moorish in origin. The fishes want to see Jesus born but

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-62778279847280022212007-12-13T16:42:00.000-06:002007-12-13T16:53:06.165-06:00

Trying to sleep it off.Knock on the door.It's that fat cop again.Same as last time.Won't you be.Won't you be.Won't you be my snitch.I don't know nothing.Leave me alone.Back to bed.Can't sleep.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-25715108603339865352007-12-13T16:06:00.000-06:002007-12-13T16:13:45.059-06:00

Alone.Bleeding.Dying.Laying face down in the dark alley.He tried to remember her eyes.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-52355107522837401092007-12-04T10:19:00.000-06:002007-12-05T13:43:17.873-06:00

Do not sleep with your head to the north as it will cause the decay of the body.Always carry a sharp knife.Eat rosemary to help the memory.Honey will kill some small bad things in your body.Know how to start and tend a fire.Bee stings hurt.Know how to use a map and compass.Remember the old songs.Chew food well.Know how to find north using the sun or stars.Everytime that you put something in your

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-25649746026543700012007-11-18T11:33:00.000-06:002007-11-20T12:33:52.083-06:00

I walked over to the apartment house on Dubuque Street. Erica had invited me to spend Thanksgiving with her and her artsie friends. Most of the students at the University had gone home for the holiday. It was 1969. The war in Vietnam was not going well. It seemed like there was a protest every week. Hippies were everywhere. There had been race riots in the cities. The Weather Underground was

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-13015622860629350642007-11-15T10:08:00.000-06:002007-11-15T12:44:32.969-06:00

We had to go to that other city.The one south of here.One hundred miles south.We had to do a few things.Take care of a little business.Personal business.Then we had to eat lunch.We were real hungry.We stopped at that old place.Been there since 1948.Started as a fruitstand.Painted red, white and green.We parked in front.Big parking lot in back.Parking on the side too.We sat at the table by the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-67007089264698897122007-10-30T10:34:00.000-05:002007-10-30T16:02:22.310-05:00

First thing you do is find someone to venerate.This is usually someone who has passed on.That is they have loosed their earthly coil.Or to put it crudely they have died.This could be a parent.It could be a pet.It could be someone you knew.It could be someone you miss.Maybe a Saint.Maybe a Prophet.Maybe a God.Maybe a Goddess.But in the end it is your decision.Now you got to decide where to put

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-40628679946959923352007-10-11T10:26:00.000-05:002007-10-30T10:34:39.116-05:00

I won't be going back. Not anytime soon. Maybe never. It was August 1964. Boundary Waters. Not sure what lake it was. Not Moose Lake. Maybe part of the Man chain of lakes. This Man. That Man. No Man. I don't remember. It was a grey day.We beached our canoes so we could have lunch. Spam, rye crackers and some raisins. After lunch, I walked up a little trail. Maybe twentyfive yards from the beach

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-32444739583783899942007-09-05T14:22:00.000-05:002007-09-05T15:20:45.407-05:00

First thing you got to know is this.I use to eat these about twice a week.At the YMCA.At the curved lunch counter.The Y was new.My mom's boss bought me a membership.Nice place for little Freddie to spend the summer.This was around 1958 or so.So I would walk in at lunchtime.Sit down on a red vinyl-topped round stool.Order a curly pup.And french fries.And a chocolate coke.And afterwards.You know

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-56909987669158485452007-08-27T22:02:00.000-05:002007-08-27T22:06:02.526-05:00

Dave Bonta at Via Negativa(link at left) has created a rock -flipping day. Here I quo from his great blog:" September 2 is International Rock-Flipping Day. Mark your calendars.How is it possible — I said to myself on Monday afternoon when I was putting together my post about flipping over rocks — that I don’t have a single good photo of the rocks in our woods? Even more unforgivable, I don’t have

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-17116185400952019702007-08-10T15:39:00.000-05:002007-08-10T16:58:21.446-05:00

It did not start here. It will not end here. Sunday night. Six years ago. Nothing on tv. Bored. Looking for a little diversion. Get in my car. The Yellow Car. Big old 1984 Chevrolet Caprice Classic. 305 engine. Power windows. AC. Kumbia Kings on the stereo. You know. Selena's brother's band. Drive one mile. Dense fog by the river. Just over the tracks. Near the Cargill soybean processing plant.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-49790941255812055212007-07-18T11:42:00.001-05:002007-07-18T13:14:00.135-05:00

Not much farther.Don't worry about it.Just up the trail.Thru those oak trees.See that mound over there?On the other side is a buried truck.Old Ford from the twenties.There is an old safe without a door.Jack-in-the-pulpits right by it.Someones crime spree ended right there.Not much farther.Don't worry about it.I gotta rest a minute.Take a drink of water.It is windy up here on this ridge.Just up

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-58045615853155822372007-07-13T12:46:00.000-05:002007-07-13T13:34:30.398-05:00

Hey yesterday I was going for some espresso.Just like always.Going for some espresso.Drove by the old place.You know at 17th and Jackson.Guess who I saw?It was Ronnie Bones.That Ronnie Bones.Couch surfer.Always getting thrown out.Out of his mom's place.Out of his sister's place.Out of the halfway house.Out of the shelter.Always drinking.Always fighting.Always stealing.I saw him yesterday.On that

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-38451585050424723492007-07-12T10:30:00.000-05:002007-07-12T11:11:21.751-05:00

I did not do it.I thought about it.I did not slit the tires.I did not start the fires.I did not cut your throat.I did not steal your coat.I did not spit in your beer.I did not call you a queer.I did not hear you.I did not help you.I did not do it.I thought about it.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-27234356265050638742007-06-19T12:07:00.000-05:002007-06-19T12:11:26.408-05:00

Always waiting for the long bus I am.Always getting on the long bus I am.Always riding the long bus I am.Always getting off of the long bus I am.City bus it is.Crosstown bus it is.Intercity bus it is.Nowhere bus it is.Silver bus color.Gray bus color.No bus color.By myself.With my mother.By myself.With someone else.By myself.With nobody.By myself.Sitting behind the driver.Sitting by the fat

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-73093416911013644702007-05-22T09:31:00.000-05:002007-05-22T10:10:00.611-05:00

Hey, you remember Howie? I remember Howie. What a jerkoff! But I liked the guy. Don't know why. But that's how it is. Let me freshen up your memory. He was the guy with the old grey Dodge. Always stalled at the worse friggen time. Liked to bet on the dogs out at Sodrac Park. Bragged about how he could pick em. Bleached his hair blonde so he could look like one of the Beach Boys. Could not swim

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-66312444048568913052007-05-11T09:51:00.000-05:002007-05-11T10:33:32.495-05:00

People always talking.Talking about their gardens.I got no garden.Use to have one.No I had two.Vegetables in the back yard.Flowers and herbs in the front yard.That was years ago.I had a house.Now I live in an apartment.No space for a garden.No time for a garden.Long gone gardens.I still visit in my dreams.The rosemary remembers me.Prairie coneflowers.Walkways of old paving brick.My kids still

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-63455568287952028882007-05-09T10:37:00.000-05:002007-05-09T10:54:33.456-05:00

On May 11th Factorytown will be 2 years old. To celebrate I am holding a virtual potluck dinner that will last the entire month of May. Please tell me what you are bringing in the comments section.I have written a little under 100 posts during the first 2 years. The first month, May 2005, I posted about 25 times. Most were poems that I had previosly written. The first post was Yellow Car. It is a

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-10007915678912326522007-05-04T16:04:00.000-05:002007-05-07T15:05:08.589-05:00

Been raining.Off and on all day.A little sun.Maybe an hour's worth.It is Friday.Fourth of May.Guy in the next office yells at me.Look out the window.We are on the second floor.Good view of the street.Three lanes.One way going south.Four people near the alley.Between a bank and the library.Plain clothes cop.Assistant city attorney.Man in black.Woman in black.The cop walked across the street.The

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-72861743893043212982007-04-26T10:38:00.000-05:002007-04-26T14:08:10.949-05:00

We were driving down Hamilton.We were in the green car.Heading to the Horrorzone Cafe.Thinking of pancakes.Slowed down for the railroad tracks.Looked to the right.Looked to the left.Again to the left.Those tracks run straight.Straight in both directions.Going into the cottonwoods.Silver green softwood giants.Over on the left side.Right by the tracks.Skinny guy in a sharkskin suit.Skinny guy under

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-6976401507836384082007-04-19T11:28:00.000-05:002007-04-19T12:46:39.510-05:00

Zack : Did you ever wait on anybody famous?Bertha: Hmm. Let me think.Zack: Take your time.Bertha: Hey can I have another cig?Zack: Sure.Bertha: Thanks. This county home won't let you smoke.Zack: So, did you think of any famous people that you might have waited on?Bertha: Well there are few.Zack: Who?Bertha: Well there was Lewis and Clark.Zack: Tell me about them.Bertha: It was a big party. They

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-12712024323797279532007-04-18T14:11:00.000-05:002007-04-18T21:56:36.517-05:00

Boys, boys, boys.Girls, girls, girls.Come here and see some nature.It is coming out of the ground.We got grass.We got weeds.We got dandelions.We got some kind of berry.All coming up thru dead leaves.Brown and moldy.All coming up thru old newspapers.Grey and moldy.Look up in the trees.Those round things are buds.Leaves will come out of them.The trees will be green.These signs show that the Spring

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-58305155500721595002007-04-13T08:32:00.000-05:002007-04-13T10:16:27.734-05:00

I gotta tell you this story. It's about a guy from the old neighborhood. It was during one of those post colonial economic sphere of dominion wars. Or maybe it was one of those anti-domino wars. Anyway it was a long time ago.Some people liked the war. Some people didn't. Most people didn't think about it much.Back then, if you were not in school, if you were not disabled, or if you were not from

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-91554657260280160552007-03-19T08:37:00.000-05:002007-03-19T08:42:08.066-05:00

Please put this in the services section of the classifieds. I WILL PAINT YOUR UGLY FURNITURE. Maybe you have wood furniture. It is all naked and the grain and vein show thru. It bothers you. It bothers me. I will only use strong colors. I have cans of red paint, yellow paint and blue paint. I have a wide paint brush and I have a skinny paint brush. I will try to leave brush

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-12331142993426291702007-02-22T15:01:00.000-06:002007-02-22T15:31:06.332-06:00

Sitting in the yellow breakfast nook..Every Sunday morning.Reading Dick Tracy.Reading Little Orphan Annie.Waiting for the French Toast.Smelling the frying bacon.My mom would be cooking breakfast.The radio would be on.The radio was an old radio.One with tubes that glowed.This was in the mid 1950s.Ike was President of the USA.Flying saucers were everywhere.Commies were everywhere.One Sunday

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-77029242327523804742007-02-14T11:22:00.000-06:002007-02-14T12:16:38.633-06:00

Back then we did not have a TV.We were living on Jackson Street.The Swanson Apartments.Apartment 303.This was in 1953 .I was 5 years old.I wanted a TV.My mom wanted a TV.It took a lot of money to get a TV.I only knew one family with a TV.But it was summer.And it was hot.I would ask my mom if I could go get an ice cream cone.She would give me some spare change.I would walk the 3 blocks to

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1170890132505628132007-02-07T16:37:00.000-06:002007-02-07T20:14:44.422-06:00

The road heads north from Stone State Park between the Big Sioux River and the Loess Hills. For some reason some of the guys and I had decided to go swimming at the sand pits. The sand pits had one of those "No Trespassing " signs. It was after midnight. I guess we figured that we would not get caught. I really don't recall. So we were all in Jones' old Renault. There were four of us and a case

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1169663032635308752007-01-24T11:31:00.000-06:002007-01-24T12:35:17.943-06:00

To make a frittata you have to have eggs.You need six eggs.They should be as fresh as possible.You do not have to wait by the hen and grab them as they come rolling out.Get some nice fat eggs at the market.Organic or natural if they are available.Get out a mixing bowl and break the eggs into the bowl.Put a few tablespoons of water in the bowl.Add some fresh or dried herbs.Oregano, rosemary, thyme

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1169658867101971552007-01-24T09:37:00.000-06:002007-01-24T11:14:28.326-06:00

To make a fruit salad you have to have fruit.The best places to get fruit are from orchards and farms.Fruit grows on trees, bushes and little plants that come out of the dirt.Fruit also grows in the wild places.Like forests and by the side of the road.Don't pick any old berry.Some of them are poisonous.Stolen fruit is always sweeter.But do not get caught.Most fruit salad makers rely on grocery

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1169588273293539682007-01-23T15:36:00.000-06:002007-01-23T15:37:53.390-06:00

Recently discovered video of Stan Getz and John Coltrane playing together in a European JATP concert in the early 60s; it was the Miles quintet on the bill but Miles was sick and Trane led the group as a quartet. Check out Oscar Peterson sliding into the piano chair at the beginning .. N

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1167673181489215332007-01-01T11:20:00.000-06:002007-01-01T11:39:41.510-06:00

FotoYou were asking me to take some fotos of the Sacred Spaces and Places. You know that I do not own a camera. So I went to the Superstore and bought one. I got one of those one time use ones. It was on sale for four bucks. Well I drove around the neighborhood and took some fotos. I took one of the little river formed by the water leaking from the dumpster at the grocery store. When I took it

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1165380882610176052006-12-05T22:21:00.000-06:002007-01-04T09:50:32.726-06:00

We have talked about this before.We will talk about it again.You are always asking me.And I am always trying to answer you.The question you always ask is will youshow me the Sacred Places.I always tell you the same thing.I am not going to show you.You have to find them yourself.But I will give you a short list of them.These are all within a mile of here.So,you can walk to them from this very

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1164840168623307342006-11-29T15:44:00.000-06:002006-12-01T12:15:18.326-06:00

Everybody knew who he was.We all knew where he lived.He was a private kind of guy.Had a big car.A Lincoln.Black.One day, Cheese stops me on the sidewalk.He was called Cheese because of his wierd smile.He worked for you know who.He says his boss wants to talk to me.I am thinking that I don't know why.I was not into anything.Nothing at all.Just a guy in the neighborhood.But I was real curious.So I

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1164830828555962792006-11-29T13:18:00.000-06:002006-11-29T14:07:08.733-06:00

A couple of years ago.A friday it was.I stopped at El Napolito.A bar by the bean processing plant.I just wanted a beer.I walked up to the bar.Nodded at the other guys on both sides of me.Ordered a Negra Modelo from Luis.Squeezed the lime wedge and the juiced trickled into the bottle.Opened the salt packet.Poured a little on the rim of the bottle.Nursed the beer for an hour, maybe.Made a few

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1164826609792595192006-11-29T11:13:00.000-06:002006-11-29T15:37:04.303-06:00

You walk the neighborhood.You look at houses.You look at street corners.You look down alleys.You look behind stores.There are a some people that you will not see.Those people are dead now.Sammy use to live in that house over there.They had a real small swimming pool.Heart attack.The Rabbi and his wife lived in that corner house.The neat little white one.They always took long walks.She was run

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1164127746854775722006-11-21T09:50:00.000-06:002006-11-21T10:54:50.410-06:00

This is the way that we use to do it.We would walk into Meyer's Deli.I use to like that place.There is a laundromat there now.They sold all kinds of stuff.As you walked in, the butcher's case was on the left.They had all kinds of meats, cold cuts and cheeses.On the right was the bread and pastries.My mom use to send me there to buy the Russian Rye bread.It was dark from the molasses.It had lots

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1164129778514966882006-11-21T07:01:00.000-06:002006-11-29T11:09:47.030-06:00

A rootie toot toot.A rootie toot toot.We are the boys from the institute. We don't smoke and we don't drink.And we don't go with girls that stink.Bernie went away to reform school. I don't remember what he did to earn his time there. He was a few years older than me. But when he came back he was always singing this song. If there is anyone out there that knows the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1161186675634880262006-10-18T06:46:00.000-05:002006-10-18T10:53:29.016-05:00

Always recalling the hallway, I am."Little Freddy, come and have some Kreplach soup.I made too much"I think we lived on the third floor then.Mrs. Gorchow always made too much soup.She lived alone.But cooked for a big family.Later she became a Scientologist I think.All these widow ladies and their soup.Kreplach, matzo ball and chicken noodle.The one old lady in 300 made swedish meatballs.She would

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1159481871507479002006-10-11T22:48:00.000-05:002006-10-11T22:54:48.823-05:00

You need to get an old table.A perfect one would be made of oak.Maybe the top would measure 3 feet by 6 feet.You could also make one out of plywood and 4x4s.I have even seen people use round ones.One guy used an old oblong table.Folding card tables are fine.Metal kitchen tables could work.Plastic tables are not appropriate.Once you have the table,you need to paint it.The bottom 12 inches of the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1160592007279747072006-10-11T13:10:00.000-05:002006-10-11T13:40:07.356-05:00

I have been in here a long time.I am just waiting for the call.They bring new ones in all the time.The light is not too good in here.So I cannot really see much.I wonder if I would recognize anyone,if the light was better.No one talks.Just a grunt or a belch now and then.And the continual sound of breathing.Once in awhile someone farts.You can sense a common discomfort.Now and then someone gets

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1159545011287957772006-09-29T10:46:00.000-05:002006-09-29T10:50:11.400-05:00

At night I reach over to your side of the bed - that cold spot with its frozen memories. The warmth of my hand brings them out of their icy suspension. I can almost feel your nipple growing hard between my fingers. Thawed memories and maybe flawed memories begin to mix in with my body's involuntary muscle twitches and my random mental twitches - until your side of the bed freezes up again.This

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1158179959535255762006-09-13T07:07:00.000-05:002006-09-13T15:39:19.606-05:00

On fat streets.On skinny streets.On dirt roads.On gravel roadsOn two lane highways.On four lane freeways.Abandoned shoes are everywhere.They are usually just lying there.On the edges of travel.Usually just one shoe.I have seen wingtip shoes with no executive attached.Engineer boots with no biker.Cowboy boots with no cowboy.Sneakers with no athlete.All kinds of shoes with nobody in them.Almost

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1156954162523809092006-08-30T07:45:00.000-05:002006-09-05T09:56:22.306-05:00

To make these pickled red onions,you have to get some nice red big onions.Use as many as you want.One, two or many.I think you should have two.Then you don't have to do as much work.Ok, peel the onions.Next cut the ends off.The ends of red onions sometimes look a lttle black.Cut that part out.Cut the onion in half.Now slice it into thin slices.Keep doing this till you have sliced all the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1156801175419318662006-08-28T16:00:00.000-05:002006-08-28T16:39:36.243-05:00

A prose poem of my was published today at http://ahappening.typepad.com/qarrtsiluni/. qarrtsiluni is an Alaskan Inuit word for sitting together in the darkness, waiting for something to burst. The theme was short shorts. Only pieces under 100 words were selected. I am grateful to the editors Beth Adams(http://www.cassandrapages.com/) and Dave Bonta( http://www.vianegativa.us/) for choosing my

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1155933717382319612006-08-18T15:12:00.000-05:002006-08-28T09:28:40.476-05:00

Someone dear to me likes to walk in to second hand stores, try on the used shoes and when they find the perfect pair they put their old shoes on the rack and quietly walk away.....Someone else walked out of the desert,looked at the City,left his old life behind in a dumpster,slipped on his new identityand quietly walked away....A third guy,some kind of saint,use to walk down by the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1155925799450390912006-08-18T13:23:00.000-05:002006-08-18T16:47:41.726-05:00

Red Apples and green ones tooPears.....four fat onesPurple plumsMangoes and a bag of colima limesSandia y melonGreen onionsRed onions and whiteGarlic and gingerChilesGreen and red peppersSpinachlechugaCilantroItalian parsleytortillas and pitastilapia and salmoncamerones y pulpoClamato juicebolilloslentils and garbanzossardines in a cantuna in a cancan openerred wine(no more than $7)white wine($6)

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1155924642379736262006-08-18T13:07:00.000-05:002006-08-24T20:21:26.506-05:00

The flash of light came.It seems to always come.From inside of me.From outside of me.But it always comes.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1155924418942461442006-08-18T13:03:00.000-05:002006-08-18T13:06:58.953-05:00

You and I were soulmates.At least we talked of this.I felt certain of this.We seemed like one thought.I could feel your presence when you were away.I knew when your letters were waiting at my post office box.Our souls touched at night.I had clear dreams of you.But now I can't feel you.What is this thing between us?I don't even know if I reach out for you anymore.Where is the clarity of feelings I

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1154985740646578532006-08-07T14:01:00.000-05:002006-08-08T13:39:11.036-05:00

First go get some vegetables.If it is summer or early fall try a farmer's market.If you have a garden try looking there.Any other time go to a grocery store.Sometimes that rich lady up the street leaves her back door unlocked.Do not go to her house and try to sneak in.She has a big dog and it is not worth it for a few vegatables.Anyway this is what you need to get.Some eggplants. Maybe 2 or 3.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1153863834090940402006-07-25T16:40:00.000-05:002006-07-25T16:43:54.106-05:00

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1153757627270280132006-07-24T07:17:00.000-05:002006-08-01T09:05:58.823-05:00

Right up here Court Street is real wide.Not wide enough for four lanes.But still real wide.See, I was heading north in the red car.Heading for the Pierce Street Coffee Works.Feeling the need for a cup of espresso.Feeling the need to talk to my buddies.That was Wednesday.You know that day that it got real hot.Maybe one hundred and three degrees.I had already passed the Mary Elizabeth Day Nursery.I

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1151082399040856152006-06-23T07:30:00.000-05:002006-06-25T22:12:43.446-05:00

It had been awhile since we had done the laundry.So we decided to do it last night.We do not have our own washer and drier.We do not want to spend the money because we may be moving.Sometimes we see a used washer or drier for sale.Maybe an ad in the paper.Maybe a flyer on a bulletin board.Sometimes a washer or drier is on a front porch.Sometimes one is sitting outside of a secondhand store.We do

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1149624944413260022006-06-06T06:06:00.000-05:002006-07-19T01:35:20.086-05:00

First thing that you got to do is get some good bread.By that I mean bread that does not feel like marshmallow.It should be nice and crusty.It should have crunch.You can bake your own.You can buy it.But it must be good bread.You need to read the ingredients.If you need a chemistry book to understand the label,do not buy this loaf.Do not use really old bread.If it is green or bluethis is not what

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1149544133575693582006-06-05T07:58:00.000-05:002006-06-09T21:17:10.723-05:00

First rinse a cup of dry lentils.Take out any pebbles.You do not need to buy exotic lentils.They do not have to be red, orange, black or white.Just plain old brown ones.Although the green ones are nice.Then put the clean lentils in a pot.Put two and one half cups of water in the pot.Put two peeled garlic cloves in the pot.Put a pinch of salt and a bay leaf in the pot.Cover the pot.Turn the stove

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1149536326794251562006-06-05T06:01:00.000-05:002006-07-20T18:46:20.420-05:00

Some how they got inside your place.Maybe they walked in.Maybe they flew in.Maybe they crawled in.It is not so important how.Or even who they are.I am talking about spirits.They can make you feel afraid.They can make things smell bad.They can change the temperature.They might even touch you.But they are there.And they do not belong.The problem is that they think that they belong.They are not

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1149000361536719192006-05-30T05:47:00.000-05:002006-06-04T21:27:11.926-05:00

I say welcome to the immigrants.With papers.Without papers.No difference to me.If they do not have papers,we can give them papers.We got a lot of paper here.Paper comes from paper stores.The paper stores get it from paper factories.The paper factories make it from pulp.Pulp comes from trees, used paper and toothpicks.We use a lot of tooth picks here.When we walk out of Bobby's Belt Bustin' Buffet

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1146679944439010192006-05-03T12:37:00.000-05:002006-08-06T14:15:12.040-05:00

Put a pan on the stove.A nice big stainless steel one.Turn the stove on.Not too high.Pour some extra virgin olive oil in the bottom.Chop some white onions up and put them in the oil.Add some salt and pepper.Use kosher or sea salt.Grind your own pepper.Stir till they start losing their color and are transcendent.Do not burn them.Put some finely chopped carrots and celery in the pan.Put some

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1144611833230833112006-04-09T14:11:00.000-05:002006-04-09T14:43:53.246-05:00

On the Saturday before Santa Semana,The day before Palm Sunday,We were out consuming.We went to a Grand Temple of Mass Consumption.A place with clothes.A place with jewelry.A place with shoes.A place with TVs,CDs and DVDs.A place with food.A place with drink.A place with batteries.A place with pots and pans.And of course Easter Baskets.Easter baskets made of plastic.Filled with green cellophane

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1144609836568473422006-04-09T14:06:00.000-05:002006-04-12T10:17:32.743-05:00

1. Thanking2. Losing3. Emptying4. Breathing5. Bending6. Sensing7. Cleaning8. Laughing9. Clowning10. Serving11. Stilling12. Forgetting13. Remembering

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1142359627498011012006-03-14T10:45:00.000-06:002006-03-26T23:22:10.380-06:00

One time when I was going along,I picked up the newspaper.It was on the table in the coffee shop.I looked at the headlines.Something about a someone selling a war.I did not read the article.There was a foto of a happy cheerleader on the front page.Well, I was in a hurry.And I just scanned the pages.Looking for who lied.Looking for who died.Looking for who cried.Nobody that I knew.Right there on

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1141404492553043292006-03-03T07:05:00.000-06:002006-03-24T23:14:34.446-06:00

Back when I owned the Yellow Car,the Yellow Car that was not yellow,I came out of my apartment.I needed to start my car.It was a cold morning.I was running late.I found a note on the windshield.It was under the wiperblade.The note said " I seen somebody cut your tire last night.They live in that big white house with the sofa on the porch."The note was not signed.An anonymous tip from the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1141250273384744572006-03-01T06:55:00.000-06:002006-03-03T09:04:54.243-06:00

You get these all the time at a store.You get white ones.You get brown ones.You get big ones.You get little ones.They hold the stuff that you bought.The stuff you needed.The stuff you wanted.When you get home you empty the bags.Sometimes you throw the bags away.Sometimes you keep them.Sometimes you reuse them.Sometimes the bags get emptied right after you leave the store.Now when you look out

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1139513438726809442006-02-19T15:29:00.000-06:002006-02-20T08:42:29.713-06:00

I don't like him.He has lied to me.Over and over.He has lied to me.I don't like him. He stretches the truth.He twists things around.Inside out he distorts them.He has destroyed even the words we use.I don't like him. He is hiding the truth.He hides behind his lawyers.He hides from the people.He hides behind his ministers.He has others talk for him.I don't like him. All he is and all he is

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1140122634080833202006-02-16T07:49:00.000-06:002006-02-21T11:39:38.896-06:00

To drink espresso you have to have espresso.First you go to a place that serves it.You walk in and if they have a counteryou ask for a double espresso.You can do this thing.Espresso is finely ground dark roasted coffee that very hot water is forced thru into a little porcelain cup.There are little brown bubbles on top called crema.If the kid there asks you if you know what an espresso is say

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1138136623250130502006-01-23T18:31:00.000-06:002006-01-31T11:38:24.093-06:00

qarrtsiluni is blog that publishes a mixture of words and images centered around a particular topic. You will find a link in my list of links. My poem "Place of Sense" was published under the topic "Finding Home" in January 2006. It was edited by Tom Montag of the Middlewesterner(link in my list of link) and Lorianne DiSabato of Hoarded Ordinaries(link in list of links). Tom and Lorianne helped

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1138134667119132952006-01-23T17:29:00.000-06:002006-01-24T14:31:07.133-06:00

When you live in a placelong enough you learn the smells.The smoke from its factories.The ammonia from the fertilizer plant.The slaughter house blood and bone.Garlic frying in the woks. You get used to the sounds.The honking of hornsand squealing of tires.The sirens of copsand the silence of robbers.The helicopters flying overhead.The family cryingat the young girl's funeral.The wild laughterfrom

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1136914208403820652006-01-10T10:37:00.000-06:002006-02-17T08:46:27.836-06:00

Kate and I went to the old restored Orpheum Theatre.We went to see Chuchumbe.Chuchumbe means bellybutton to bellybutton.It is a word from Senegal.Chuchumbe is from Veracruz.They play music in the son jarocho style.They make their own instruments.They dance.They sing.They laugh.The audience goes away smiling.After the concert I wanted to buy a CD.So,I asked one of the musicians.He said to come to

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1135801771852517952005-12-28T14:18:00.000-06:002006-01-02T17:17:26.036-06:00

I have lost my Saint Anthony Medal. There is a full description of it in my poem Relics posted in the May 2005 section on this blog. If you see it, let me know. Oh, I have also misplaced a small sandlewood statue of Ganesha.It is unlikely that they will be found together. Gods and Saints don't always get along. At least, that is what some guy told me once. I really don't know.Anyway, please keep

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1134683162150241212005-12-15T15:34:00.000-06:002005-12-16T08:33:59.363-06:00

FotoThis is a foto of the bus just after she got on it. It was a sad day for me. Well, she was able to come back and we later got married. Can you see the reflection of me in the window as I was waiving goodbye. After she left I went home and ate some chocolate ice cream.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1120707855299896432005-12-14T22:41:00.000-06:002005-12-16T08:37:33.353-06:00

Wearing those cats eye sunglasses, She got on the bus. The girl of the street, She got on the bus. Five foot six, long blonde hair, She got on the bus. She told me she was five She got on the bus. And that I was her daddy. She got on the bus. Her drivers license says that she is fifty-two. She got on the bus. She told me there was a mistake. She got on the bus. She was going away.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1131159151333847732005-11-04T20:18:00.000-06:002006-01-27T09:52:14.713-06:00

In order to eat Pho you have to have Pho.So you go to a Vietnamese restaurant and order it.If it is your first time order Pho Tai.Also order hot tea and cafe suda.This is iced coffee.First will come the hot tea.Pour a cup and sip some.Then will come the cafe suda.It is served differently at different restaurants.But here it is sweetened condensed milk covered withchicory coffee from Cafe du Monde

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1131156700524061202005-11-04T19:44:00.001-06:002005-11-04T20:11:40.536-06:00

So, this time around John gets deposited in Mary's womb.He isn't exactly sure about the whole process.Then he gets born and his memory of everything that happened before gets hidden somewhere deep in his head and it is unlikely that it will be recovered.For the next few years Mary holds John a lot. He cries sometimes. He learns lots of new tricks. Walking, talking, begging and other useful things

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1131154129047972702005-11-04T19:25:00.000-06:002005-11-04T19:28:49.060-06:00

1. Who were those ravens that sat in a circle? I recall that fat October moon shining on them. And those black birds were right over there. It use to be a vacant lot. They were behind a chain link fence. There is a bank there now.2. Why don't the animals stay in the sewers? Two dead possums were right by the curb. Probably hit by a car. They had nice fur and smooth tails. Two

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1129314282703831082005-10-14T13:20:00.000-05:002005-10-14T13:24:42.710-05:00

Foto dated 3/9/2002Here is a foto of my bathroom sink after I tried cleaning it. You will notice that I was able to remove some of the stain around the edges. Eventually the new landlady replaced the sink.

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1126749582015960752005-09-14T19:59:00.000-05:002005-09-14T21:00:22.893-05:00

Let's talk about stains. All this was prompted by my noticing that rust stain in the white porcelain sink in my bathroom.I'm talking about the one under the cold water faucet.You know that faucet. It drips all the time. Elmer has tried to fix it a dozen times. Maybe more. This stain is at least five inches in length and varies in width with the narrow part ending at the drain hole.Stain and drain

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12806817.post-1125895928774151802005-09-04T23:06:00.000-05:002005-09-05T17:37:20.510-05:00

I knew this guy. He died in a car accident.He had been driving south.South on I-29.They say he lost control.Lost control while passing a semi.He was young.Not even thirty yet.His mother had a little bakery.It was just across the bridge.She had been a teacher down in Mexico.His father had been a cop.Now he helped out at the

Fred Garberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06308938520063396329noreply@blogger.com0