Horton Deakins's Blog, page 5

Cooking again!

Here I go, cooking again!  Sauted chopped red onion, minced garlic, bell pepper, drained green beans, a little Cajun spices, a little red wine, a can of HOT Rotel, and popcorn-sized shrimp.  Mix in jasmine rice and a little soy sauce.  Oooooohhh-weeeeee!

Caj-Mex with shrimp

THE RAVING — All eighteen verses

The Raving

by Horton Deakins

Once upon a whiskey bourbon, while I watched my ice a-meltin’,

Stacks of pizza boxes littering the floor—

While the dog, her water lapping, suddenly there came a capping,

In the middle of 50 Cent rapping, rapping words that I abhor—

“‘Tis some gangbanger,” I muttered, “capping just outside my door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Yes, I’ll always remember it was the third of September;

I saw a gangsta dismembered, dying on the barroom floor.

I was there to try to borrow the keys to Alejandro’s carro

“Is he dead?” I asked. Sí, claro—tomorrow there will be a war—

These pendejos got it coming and there’s gonna be a war—

We’ll put them down for evermore.

And the smoke of marijuana filled the room of some kid’s mama

Chill me—spill my dollar beer I just bought at the store;

Some old man, his kid he’s beatin’ while curses he’s repeatin’,

“I’m slidin’ the new chain into the lock on my apartment door—

Got me a brand new chain for the lock on my apartment door;—

Got no money for nothin’ more.”

Figured I’d go all out; had to give a shout out,

“Dude,” I said, “or Girlfriend, I was about to take a snore;

Over all the rapping, I heard you out there capping,

That’s not exactly tapping, tapping on my apartment door, Every cat in this block heard you”—here I peeked outside the door;—

Cold black night and nothing more.

Down the long dark hallway, watching, stood there in a daze, trembling,

It ain’t nothing, I’m just dreaming, but they’s never dreams like this before;

But silence is as silence does, I’m tellin’ you I had no buzz,

And the only word that came my way was just a vapor, “A war?”

I mouthed it out, and an echo shot back to me, “A war!”—

Tha’s it—nothing more.

Glad the toilet was so near, I puked my guts up out of fear,

And in a heartbeat came more capping, sounding like a .44.

“C’mon I said, “that can’t be nothing but a car backfiring;

Some gangsta be a hotwire trying, I cry out to El Señor—

Another sip of liquid courage, now protect me El Señor;—

I pray it’s a car and nothing more!”

Pried open the paint-sealed shutter, whores below flirt in the gutter,

From the fire escape stepped a black-clad dude with a sack from the bodega store;

No sound when moving made he; now says he needs a church key;

Just like he owned the place, he guarded my apartment door—

Said he came up from Dallas, keeping watch at my door—

Grabbed a chair and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony dude inducing my sad face into smiling,

Because he wasn’t joking, but a ghastly face he wore,

“Though I know that you aren’t raving,” I said, “you’re really misbehaving,

You’re upsetting me, though you seem to come from the bodega store,

Tell me why the name on your bodega bag says, “Plutonium Store”

But all the dude could say was “Nevermore”

Tripped me out to hear this strange bird talk so straight up,

The dude had to be jiving—no clue what he said it for;

Every renter in the projects no matter what his dialect

Would never ever suspect he’d see such strangeness by his door—

Dude or dude-ess holding watch at his apartment door,

He say his name was “Nevermore.”

But this dark-clad dude, like he was expecting a bust, say only

That one word, crazy high like he just made a score.

I tell you this is one tough nut—He got me down in one deep rut—

Till I exclaimed, “Say whut? Some of my friends live on this floor—

Better get your ass outta here, or they gonna come throw it out the door.”

But the dude just said “Nevermore.”

I’s jacked up by what was spoken, dude sat and flipped a subway token,

“No freakin’ way,” said I, “his bag come from the bodega store

He pickin’ off my wall’s plaster, and paper below it look like New York aster

Loaded his burner fast and racked it faster—Lord, I ain’t never seen such a bore—

Stomach rose up my throat when I see such a huge bore

Hope he don’t pop me never—nevermore.”

I sat on my bean bag for awhile, then I had to crack a smile,

Moved my bean bag right in front of the dude who stared out through my door;

At this range, the guy was stinking, but then I got to thinking

Could this overwhelming smell be coming through the door—

What had this dark, unholy, ghostly, ninja-like dude at my door

Meant when he spat out “Nevermore”?

My guessing gave me pause, but not a word came through my jaws

To the dude who kept his piece in the bag from the bodega store;

This and more was my quest, as I gave my head a rest

On the bean bag’s vinyl cover that the hall light flowed o’er,

But whose faded black vinyl cover with the hall light flowing o’er,

Will he leave? Ah, nevermore!

As I struggled to make a point, I sniffed the smoke of some huge joint

Echoes of “You bogartin’!” haunted the hallways of this floor.

“Junkie,” I said, “your pusher gave you—crazy pills that will not save you

A brief escape—escape and high, and now you think there’ll be a war;

Let me get you a cold brewski, and  forget this stupid war!”

Scary dude said “Nevermore.”

“Gangsta! Word, yo! On the level!—gangsta still, if dude or devil!—

Whether you been told, or whether you just feel the need for war,

All alone, but that don’t stop you, ain’t no cop around to drop you—

You know I ain’t gonna pop you—can’t you just walk out that door?

What the—what the hell you doin’ here?—tell me what you have in store!”

Scary dude said “Nevermore.”

“Gangsta! Word, yo! On the level!—gangsta still, if dude or devil!

Look up!  See who lookin’ at us?  God in Heaven, He got your score—

Pues, digame en Español, ¿Estás borracho de alcohol?

Just go home, you misguided man.  Ain’t no use to start a war—

You just foolin’ your own self now, ain’t no use to start a war”

Scary dude said “Nevermore.”

“Don’t care ‘bout your gang sign, go, dude!” Gangsta, ain’t askin’ you to dine—

“Out into the night, you villain, back to your bodega store!

Leave no body as a token, heed the words that I have spoken!

Leave my simple crib unbroken!—blow my pad, walk out my door!

Don’t you tear my soul apart, and haul yourself right out my door!”

Scary dude said “Nevermore.”

And the dude, he unremitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the creaky, broken chair in front of my apartment door;

And his eyes, they just keep staring, like a gangsta that is daring,

And the hall light on him glaring casts his shadow on the floor;

And my soul within that shadow lies there, lies there on the floor

Won’t be lifted—nevermore!

The Raving, Verse 16

“Gangsta! Word, yo! On the level!—gangsta still, if dude or devil!

Look up!  See who lookin’ at us?  God in Heaven, He got your score—

Pues, digame en Español, ¿Estás borracho de alcohol?

Just go home, you misguided man.  Ain’t no use to start a war—

You just foolin’ your own self now, ain’t no use to start a war”

Scary dude said “Nevermore.”

The Raving — Verse 15

“Gangsta! Word, yo! On the level!—gangsta still, if dude or devil!—

Whether you been told, or whether you just feel the need for war,

All alone, but that don’t stop you, ain’t no cop around to drop you—

You know I ain’t gonna pop you—can’t you just walk out that door?

What the—what the hell you doin’ here?—tell me what you have in store!”

Scary dude said “Nevermore.”

Another Familial Resurrection

Cousin floating in Mud Creek

This wasn’t the fountain of youth, but I was having a bit of fun trying to add color to old black and white photos.  This is a photo of my cousin, circa 1959, in a lake in Alabama called Mud Creek.

 

The Raving, verse 14

As I struggled to make a point, I sniffed the smoke of some huge joint

Echoes of “You bogartin’!” haunted the hallways of this floor.

“Junkie,” I said, “your pusher gave you—crazy pills that will not save you

An brief escape—escape and high, and now you think there’ll be a war;

Let me get you a cold brewski, and  forget this stupid war!”

Scary dude said “Nevermore.”

Grandma — Young Again

Grandma — when she was young

This is my same grandmother when she was young. If she were no more than 20 in this photo, it would have been around 1909. I do not know the location where this photo was taken, but I have another one of my grandfather taken at the same time and the same place. They were married then, so I suspect she was a little more than 20. But she was barely 25 when her first child was born.

Bringing Grandma Back to Life

Black and white from negative, then colorized

Dad took this photo of my grandmother (Mom’s mother) back in the early 1960′s, or perhaps even the late 1950′s, with black and white film that he developed himself.  I found this negative several years ago, scanned it, and used Paint Shop Pro to add the color.  One of my aunts, Mom’s youngest sister, told me that my colors selections were accurate.

All my grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles are gone now.  Photos and memories are all that I have.

One of my better self-taken photos

With my cell phone, that is!  I took this on Sept. 28, 2013.

One of my recent photos

That’s about as big as my smile gets, folks, and no one was even there to tell me a joke. Don’t even try to get me to show teeth, though.  It would be like… pulling teeth, LOL!  There’s a story that goes with that, but I won’t tell you unless you can make me laugh. I advise you not to stare at this photo too long, because there are actual laser beams coming out of my eyes.

 

Ha!  Made you look!

Sunset at Red Rock Canyon Grill, Lake Hefner, OKC

Sunset at Red Rock Canyon Grill

Sunset after dinner tonight–and you weren’t there.  OMG, don’t let that happen again!