tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-115374312011-12-14T18:40:51.806-08:00Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.comBlogger951100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1154618281817627352006-08-03T08:17:00.000-07:002006-08-03T09:16:39.700-07:00

I'm employeed by the Mouse so “Hey,” thinks I “what can be more fun than makin’ a rat do tricks and getting’ points for doin' it!” Do you have manual dexterity? Do you have time to waste? Well Ba-da-BING! Rat Wheel is there to whisk you from boredom, right into the arms of senselessness. Go for it... come on... you know you want to.

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1154532963727860022006-08-02T08:34:00.000-07:002006-08-02T09:22:25.546-07:00

If you like… well... you know; I can’t put this Brooklyn four into any comparison group at the moment. They have a slightly soft, slightly progressive harmony of hip that floats just as well in the background office routine as it does on a five hour trip up the i5. The progressive flavor finds a little comparison to Porcupine Tree while the popish contrast might discover a little Guster in the

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1154447587601591942006-08-01T08:52:00.000-07:002006-08-01T09:04:12.616-07:00

Hate: I have seen its ugliness. I have lived its ugliness. I have torn from the inexorable shackles wrapped till bloods blackness spilt beneath the moons hallow breath of sorrow. I am not one who hates. All right, so I haven’t really ever had handcuffs cut into me... well I haven’t really had handcuffs cut into me and make me bleed under the night moon but you can use that merry minuet as an

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1154360578272854122006-07-31T08:19:00.000-07:002006-07-31T15:40:57.356-07:00

Of the movies I watched this weekend, two took me by complete surprise. Although one had come with much recommendation, the other fell from my desire to watch foreign/art type films. The Matador was film Saturday; número one. Highly praised by a close friend, I entered the experience with anticipation high. This thankfully, did not kill the moment. I’m going to keep this short; Pierce Brosnan

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1154124766749936972006-07-28T15:11:00.000-07:002006-07-28T15:12:46.776-07:00

I don't have any info... all the stuff I had no longer works!

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1154013616014560242006-07-27T08:18:00.000-07:002006-07-27T11:08:34.456-07:00

This is just plumb wicked! Can you imagine pulling up along side of one of those really, really super fast 'I-got-a-little-weenie' cars and nodding to the tupe in control with one of those 'hey-you-wanna’-race' kind of faces and then he looks at you like you’re a little nutty but you nod back with a 'I am not' look and he laughs the 'you fool' laugh and then you push the 'go fast' button and

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153945954419769352006-07-26T13:31:00.000-07:002006-07-26T14:24:58.880-07:00

I’ve concluded that 70’s groove-tunes have made their back into the world of now. The shu-ka-took-a-took-a-schook rolls out like dy-no-mite and hypnotizes my soul. I imagine steppin’ down the streets of Harlem as some jive-turkey says “What it is my brother?” I’m hip private eye John Shaft baby and I reply “What it be?” The lights brighten a corner telephone booth as I ring chick number two. “

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153894799710238832006-07-25T23:19:00.000-07:002006-07-25T23:26:56.490-07:00

Anger; it thrives for recess in fragilities sonata and the embodiment of fear. It is consuming, it destroys, and it is contagious. Creation dissipates in its own fermentation, leaving emotional bewilderment and exasperation as its paramour. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate and hate leads to suffering. I know the little force freak in Lucas’ septology generalizes this assertion as a path

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153773168725976902006-07-24T13:30:00.000-07:002006-07-24T13:45:34.280-07:00

What is a Loof? Well... I saw one today. As I left the juice joint from whence my lunch was taken (not Josie’s, that’d be kind of queer), there before me, flutter a tall, un-impressing Loof. I wonder how they exist from time to time but always arrive at the same answer; they must be here for a reason. The Loof I saw today was nearly backed over by a car. I’m sure the driver was caught

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153499682020796962006-07-21T09:31:00.000-07:002006-07-21T10:15:19.846-07:00

I began life as an embedded sports addict; basketball, baseball, soccer, gymnastics, cycling and the lot. I always wanted to play football but I was a scrawny little waif and the folks declined, so football after school with the neighborhood folk, sans padding and head gear was just fine. Go figure. Although theaters intervention removed all scholastic sport involvement by my junior year, I

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153446683616427922006-07-20T18:50:00.000-07:002006-07-20T19:03:06.450-07:00

On March 15th I wrote a piece about gum. I forget the actual day now, but it was a week or two later when a package arrived in the post. It rattled a bit and was wrapped like a jimmy cap, left in the dryer; left rear pocket, 501’s. I opened it; half expecting something trash worthy and half anticipation. Holly Moses! There before me lay the makings of chew-fest ’06 with a few add-ons. Let me

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153406506448510452006-07-20T07:24:00.000-07:002006-07-20T08:59:06.416-07:00

I don’t want to promote malicious behavior... that being said, it’s rather fun to send someone an anonymous email with a silly little picture attached. What’s even funnier is when you send someone an anonymous email with an extremely scandalous picture attached and then write... Dear Bill,I thought that you would find this really funny because somebody told me that a picture is worth a thousand

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153372807458985162006-07-19T22:19:00.000-07:002006-07-20T07:18:12.680-07:00

I live in an apartment that faces a quiet, modest courtyard. Window open, faint echoes from a fountain may be heard above the tranquility of evening dusk as they reveal through the parapets clam. Trees shutter in slight with the occasional squirrel, shrubbery brings the absence of structure and flowers lighten the way. Every so often, the sound of children playing weaves into the silence with

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153328023472415162006-07-19T09:52:00.000-07:002006-07-19T22:58:09.470-07:00

In 1984 I was a regular at Tower Records with cash in hand and a desire for vinyl; not that kind of vinyl. That desire didn’t come to light until sometime around 1989 but that’s a different story. I was in constant search for new and exciting music to spin on the Garrard 2000. A local college radio station played a spankin' new tune one day and boom! Off I went to Tower. The Icicle Works were

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153276737725080202006-07-18T19:38:00.000-07:002006-07-19T23:03:23.326-07:00

Laugh Out Loud. How many times do we actually laugh out loud? How many times do you laugh out loud? I smile fairly often with a sly, sort of mischievous look. I have the rush of air through the nose reaction quite a bit, accompanied by a visible rumbley in my tumbley. I even chuckle from time to time with an occasional snort, but loudly laugh – please! Most of the time I find life rather

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153238235601166652006-07-18T08:52:00.000-07:002006-07-18T09:03:03.353-07:00

entitlement (en•ti•tle•ment): belief that one is deserving of or entitled to certain privileges. I swear to the holy heavens that Los Angeles has the largest concentration of entitled people this side of Eden. I have held the door for more women than I can count who do not even bother to acknowledge the fact that the door was held open and I’m not going to just limit it to women because the men

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153078216950139822006-07-16T12:28:00.000-07:002006-07-16T18:14:58.366-07:00

Hair cuts. Sitting and waiting and hoping that this one will be suitable because you’re a tight-wad, chic-less or just plumb poor as shit and pay as little as possible at the discount clippery. I fit into two of these categories and one of them is the latter. I’m sure arguments can be made for the remaining two but I’ve already copped to one and that’s enough honesty for the day. I do know this;

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1153026263067846332006-07-15T21:59:00.000-07:002006-07-16T09:40:12.890-07:00

I returned an item of which I borrowed for about 20 years, earlier this year. I left him exactly where his journey began, with this note attached... Dear Selix, Getting kidnapped was not really one of those items I had scribbled down on my list of things to do back in 1986. I’d pretty much focused on getting my stripe on with some brilliantly streaked mare; primarily a plains mare with those

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1152824121931718412006-07-13T13:49:00.000-07:002006-07-13T14:07:05.300-07:00

I’ve played Tetris. I’ve even played Sex Tetris. I can’t say I’m all that brilliant at either, but I can say that I rock in the most excellent of ways with this one. Mad-Skillz-Baby... mad skillz.

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1152802096397835992006-07-13T07:46:00.000-07:002006-07-13T08:54:56.310-07:00

I’m trying to regain a little bit of that creativity bug… I got together with my friend Richard this past weekend and we cranked out what might be one to hold on to… I’ll have to say that his little guitar riff is rather impressive. My singing, on the other hand, is... a... Maid of Orléans Softly drawn to her I’ve been, for she’s the Maid of Orléans. ... and the wind is fair ... as it drifts

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1152725537046697762006-07-12T10:30:00.000-07:002006-07-12T10:59:31.483-07:00

The Patrick & Eugene album Postcard from Summerisle is interesting to say the least. If you’re a fan of ‘The Birds and the Bees’ song in the Volkswagen Rabbit Commercial, then this is worth a listen, but don’t hope for more of the same. I’ll classify this as ‘background music to circus porn’ and pretty much leave it at that; but hey, I really dig the Birds and the Bees...

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1152119948911511782006-07-05T10:15:00.000-07:002006-07-12T10:58:04.350-07:00

I saw this commercial for Cerveza Quilmes. I’d not heard the song before and thus found myself on a search for the artist. It took a while, but I finally arrived at the Aberfeldy site. If you like simple, slightly corny but fun music, I definitely recommend this album. My favorite tracks; ‘Summer's Gone’ and ‘Heliopolis By Night’. What can I say, I’m a sucker for this kind of music. I’m not

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1151012730752364182006-06-22T14:44:00.000-07:002006-07-05T10:41:58.846-07:00

My son digs this site... need to waste some time? Give it a go!

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1150909630507420862006-06-21T10:06:00.000-07:002006-06-21T16:16:38.273-07:00

The Lemon Jelly release 'lemonjelly.ky' is downtempo groove at its finest. My groove is mellow and smooth with these tracks as they come highly recommended...

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1150771017996530982006-06-19T19:36:00.000-07:002006-06-21T15:38:33.590-07:00

I want to get back into the lyrical groove yet impaled am I, a feverous thistle from whence blooms did throw. I can feel it in shallow wells as though t’ were mind of elations captain gone mad and I am of no power to allay. So I ponder and poke at the cascading thoughts held deep the wearied walls and think of the boys; my son Cody, my ‘just like a son’ Ian and the Uncle Doug. The pictures are

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1150478310355809952006-06-16T10:16:00.000-07:002006-06-19T19:57:00.236-07:00

This is a cool little game to pass a few moments with...

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1150305279450314402006-06-14T10:14:00.000-07:002006-06-15T00:10:56.040-07:00

My ears were first graced by the vocal stylings of William Shatner while pursuing liquid therapy at a cast party some 20 odd years ago. A willowy red’s stage light never gave my drive-by the green and so I mused in disquieted harmony midst the Camel's and the booze and the beer. So it's late and I need to sleep and I intended on writing a review about Shatner's 'Has Been' CD but now I'm not. So

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1150257167749289222006-06-13T20:52:00.000-07:002006-06-19T20:31:43.196-07:00

I imagine it’s a little peculiar and all; me finding the Metropolis robot so attractive. It’s almost as though I’d gone mental from birth because the very first time I ever saw her I immediately said to myself "Wow! That female Metropolis robot is so attractive." Is it some tilted form of self depraved indifference? If I find Les Filles du Metal a little "Huma-nu Huma-nu" then I steer clear

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1150171286452935842006-06-12T21:01:00.000-07:002006-06-12T21:12:03.440-07:00

Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun-of-a-who the hell kicked off the Renaissance in Shakespeare anyway? I’m in awe of Will’s prose and verse and even though ‘tis embark’d this flurried vessel of such odd tidings, ‘tis upon thy infancy where inability may ne’er disarm. Thus I explain. Whereas Richard III spoke of victory, the arrival of ginchiness and sod-all to

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1142889487752994742006-03-20T13:17:00.000-08:002006-03-20T13:27:20.923-08:00

It’s the Ianizer’s birthday today and I wanted to say a big “Happy One Six!” I wish I could be there to razz you a little, but hopefully you can get my psychic-mental-razz. I figured that we could go dress shopping when I’m back over the Memorial holiday. This means that you can legally chauffeur Cody and me on the next hike, Right? Hey – I love you and I hope that a bunch of lovely ladies

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1142625057043194402006-03-17T11:50:00.000-08:002006-03-20T12:54:00.013-08:00

Pie; I love pie. I think the crust is where a pie truly makes its mark. If the crust is pithy or un-flaky or just tastes non-yummy to begin with, then the filling just doesn’t pull the pie on to the shelf of greatness. Pie can be linked to a lot of things that most might not even think about and what’s most surprising is that we tend to reference pie in everyday life whereas nobody ever makes

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1142528021875298302006-03-16T08:39:00.000-08:002006-03-16T08:55:21.726-08:00

Have you ever been watching a prison movie and heard some term that you didn’t know? Did you ever want to know what that term meant? Now you can! So if for some reason you end up in the house for a bit, for you can tell the 6-5 to tuck his shot out, knick-knack 'tude to his rat; ‘cause you a three snap case kicking it with spud juice and a key and you ain’t no bird! Bitch!

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1142451400300309772006-03-15T11:12:00.000-08:002006-03-15T11:37:20.326-08:00

I like gum. I like gum a lot. I chew it on the way to work; I chew it on the way home. I love to play little chewy games because I probably have some oral fetish that doesn’t need to be spoken of right at this moment. My doctor told me that you should not chew gum for more than ten minutes or so but hell; I’ll chew a single piece for hours and not think twice. All in all; I’m a gum sort of guy.

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1142449495915338082006-03-15T11:04:00.000-08:002006-03-15T11:12:00.623-08:00

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1141425291033785762006-03-03T14:34:00.000-08:002006-03-15T11:09:41.150-08:00

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1138734616473358922006-01-31T11:09:00.000-08:002006-01-31T11:21:52.106-08:00

This really baffles me; in fact it just plumb drives me nutty because it doesn’t make any sense at all and when my mind dives headlong into creative indulgence, I am left with an explanation that involves Carpet Crawlers and a million tiny flea’s clinging to the outer edge of my comforter and even though one flea doesn’t weigh a whole heck of a lot, a million of them can really add up and because

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1138208996831610072006-01-25T09:09:00.000-08:002006-01-25T09:09:56.856-08:00

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1138128201998000532006-01-24T10:42:00.000-08:002006-01-24T10:51:47.236-08:00

Don’t, don’t, don’t let’s start – I’ve got a weak part of constitutional make-up that allows me to don a rouge of tenderness while daydreaming the physical torture of those non-humans who prey on children. The disgusting part is that my rage would land happily upon priests. I’m in need of a little out-gassing here. The likes of these Baker burritos are enough to give the most solid of tummies a

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1137780885398721232006-01-20T10:14:00.000-08:002006-01-20T10:38:25.990-08:00

Do you ever get angry while driving? Do you ever utter the phrase “Move! you #$%@ friggin’ mook!”; then realize you have no clue what mook means? How about when you say “What... are ya' smokin’ crack?” and you have no idea what the heck crack is. Well go to the Urban Dictionary and look it up! This ways you gets the haps – fashizzle!

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1137601722382467482006-01-18T08:28:00.000-08:002006-01-18T08:45:04.210-08:00

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1137538781508195392006-01-17T14:59:00.000-08:002006-01-17T15:41:36.883-08:00

I’ve been under the assumption that balance exists between Good and Evil. After a discussion between myself, my folks and another couple, I am unable to sustain my belief. The conversation melded spirituality, psychic phenomenon and the re-introduction of bloodletting as modern medical practice; I fib. As the conversation weaved about, I found myself a-linger on the outer fringe. I’ll admit that

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1137178628706028812006-01-13T10:56:00.000-08:002006-01-13T11:12:29.476-08:00

What do the pictures say?

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1137136507563237552006-01-12T23:14:00.000-08:002006-01-12T23:39:44.083-08:00

PostSecret I find this site just about as interesting as Found, not Dirty Found though. When a little levity is needed, you won’t go wrong here. The site used to be filled with posts, so many in fact that they wound up here.

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1137085664550661192006-01-12T09:07:00.000-08:002006-01-12T23:39:30.943-08:00

Where shall I begin? I suppose I shall begin at the beginning and go on till I come to the end: then stop. So... I get home, I chat with my son for a while about his PS2 gaming adventures, his dog that recently died and the inquisitions of Samuel Alito. He didn’t have much to say about Alito. I check my Inbox and see an e-mail from an anonymous sender via myTrashMail.com. I’m about to delete it,

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1137007917797908952006-01-11T11:28:00.000-08:002006-01-12T09:23:02.066-08:00

One of my best friends Jan, just sent me a little reminder of what I once was... a tecno-geek in "Blair's Kitchen" at some entertainment company in Colorado. Jan and I spent a lot of therapy time together at many a watering hole and we’re still in regular contact, even though she thinks that I’m a jack-ass. Hugs and kisses to you Jan! I really don't believe that this picture is of me...

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1136993867395494692006-01-11T07:37:00.000-08:002006-01-12T22:57:15.573-08:00

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1136952885333601652006-01-10T20:14:00.000-08:002006-01-11T08:11:58.640-08:00

I’d love to say that I wrote this following piece on an eight day speed binge with coco-puff backers and the magic charm of a few highly intellectual burlesque dancers; though it would only serve as another mendacious tale in the adventures of moi. Anonymous replied to my request for ideas with the following; Maybe you should write about "butter". Alone, restless; breakfast table in an

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1136846622530978872006-01-09T14:41:00.000-08:002006-01-10T10:40:56.976-08:00

I’m in serious need of a laxative for the creatively constipated; maybe a line of Cascara Sagrada on the mind mirror of mental-enhancement, a stein of free-thinking Fybogel or even a mental-muffin with some fibery goodness. Any ideas?

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1136498932526068882006-01-05T14:07:00.000-08:002006-01-05T14:51:02.670-08:00

The Gizoogle Translator a) Copy a URL into the entry field. b) Gizoogle It. c) Read the translation... d) Get ready ta hit tha ground chillin' so i can get mah pimp on.

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1136399214214321522006-01-04T10:26:00.000-08:002006-01-05T09:29:36.930-08:00

(noise, noise, noise) "Blah, blah..." (knock, knock, knock) "Blah, blah..." (knock, knock, knock) "Room Service." Consciousness pried me away from another dream of being Augustus; female clowns are draped in Egyptian cotton, a million tiny fire-flies light the Basilica, we drown ourselves in the lusty decedent delights of Imperial Pompeii and make miniature Vesuvius’ out of vanilla ice cream

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1136388211590882252006-01-04T07:22:00.000-08:002006-01-12T22:59:16.616-08:00

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1135972655361812702005-12-30T11:57:00.000-08:002005-12-30T12:00:17.040-08:00

UNSPOKEN Just another mime, wherein words align to find, the silence that we see. When these rebels fall, barren souls to all defined, our struggle to be free. In ambivalence, fettered lips frequent lament, atonement from the sin. No un-uttered tell, ferries through the swell to well, these wounds which we begin. In the farewell send, parting ways defend an end, to which we’ve lost adore. Just

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1135794227530161952005-12-28T10:23:00.000-08:002006-01-04T10:32:19.806-08:00

Amazement is a relatively light word to describe what I felt when discovering that the only damage to my car was a flat tire. After I mounted the spare, I figured a little nap might be wise to appease the food coma that nearly plunged me into the sea of permanent tranquility. I was so jacked up from my little ordeal though, that napping wasn’t something soon to happen. The mental scars of self

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1135788827854598462005-12-28T08:53:00.000-08:002006-01-12T23:01:32.970-08:00

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1135742606577180532005-12-27T20:03:00.000-08:002005-12-28T11:30:16.203-08:00

WHAT IT’S ABOUT I’ve not seen the pyramids of Egypt I have not seen the Great Wall of China I’ve not heard the heavenly sounds of whales nor have I heard lions call to their young but in my dreams I have soared further than any one could possibly carry me and in my dreams I have listened to sound expand with beauty beyond belief often I fail to head experience of past that preciousness holds

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If anyone is reading this, I would like to first state that the ‘Arrival’ story is simply that; a story. I’m making it up on the fly to see what the heck I can come up with as well as to see if I can do it without creating any unintended loop holes. Since it is a story, I would love to take it in directions guided by others than myself. The concept shall remain mine, but I would seriously dig

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Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1135102448755737302005-12-20T10:13:00.000-08:002006-01-04T10:31:56.810-08:00

I nestled into the shadows, between the rocks and underbrush along the banks of the Little Washougal River. I’d been educated at an early age that “just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean that they can’t see you”; so I would sneak up on a hole that would most assuredly have a fish or two, cast upstream and let the bait drift into the home of my favorite pastime. The sun breached my

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I’m a ripped Levi’s, t-shirt and Teva boy. I don’t publicize the other garment because, well… I just don’t. I will let you know this though; there is a style of undergarment that I would love to see available for the want-to-be-sexy, need-to-be-formal, naughty side in all of us men who only have a choice between boxers, briefs and those other French sort of thingies. Women have the candy shop’s

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There is a moment when disbelief becomes an anchor to the wondering wishes fluttering within the dream of day. The knowledge that something is not real makes the need to believe even stronger, and I was definitely in a place of need. A short wisp of breath lingered in my emotional wake. My heart seemed to skip a few beats and my eyes slowly began to muster the glisten of tear. Ghostly eyes of

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ANCIENT ORDER OF INTENDERS As I glance back upon my age and sponge the spills of fruition, as my memory stays away these days, veered aside tuition, ‘tis then my dear, the world I fear, where I had lacked in all ambition. A youth of years had offered I to run with foils forgiven. A scheme these eyes did see create, yet my blood did not condition. And now in part this wearied heart, has but the

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Intellectually, I’ve imploded. Physically, I’m preparing for immanent destruction and upon Monday, my emotional stability will plead “evaluation please” from within its dilapidated voice of reason. On the positive side; my intuitive abilities are steeped in heightened awareness and I’m quite sure that the spiritual arrival of six good numbers will render the acquisition of one, crisp lottery

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Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1134451443465575912005-12-12T21:23:00.000-08:002005-12-12T21:27:29.033-08:00

I have three hairs on my chest; it appears as though I have more because I grow two on the left side of my chest real long, swoop them over to the right side with a little curl action and va-voom – a Tom Selleck chest have I! I call it the comb-over-peck. Maybe it’s a George Michael chest; the “I Want Your Sex” sort of looks, with ripped Levi’s, Ray-Ban’s and that fine-looking Asian thwart to

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1134165971101363562005-12-09T14:04:00.000-08:002005-12-28T10:59:09.020-08:00

I thought I would continue with the story I started a while back… Springs slumber arrived uneventfully in June of ’87; summer’s waving warmth settled into the bay area with early tan lines and talks about the increased traffic over Highway 17. Arrivals hadn’t slowed by any degree and I was increasingly agitated by my elongated inability to write. On Wednesday the 10th I awoke earlier than

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You can’t choose your family. Well who the hell came up with that crock ’o shyte? Granted you can’t womb shop during the consummation process, else the inner city would simply be three houses for rent and a vagrant with a self deprecating prophecy. The rest of the dynasty-shoppers would hop into the Rockefeller’s embryonic freezer of fortune, cramming as many as possible into the next egg of

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Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1133887954941480502005-12-06T08:51:00.000-08:002005-12-06T09:04:04.466-08:00

HALLWAYS OF A MIND In all of my nightmares of horror and despair which visit me from time to time, I’ve not yet confronted the face who’s being hunted, waiving his terror to be mine. Each night before I sleep I pray my soul to keep; to face what I might reap, in the cold dark looming hallways of my mind... I look to the mirror and see a performer façade a life renown to lead. In fathoms of

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Twenty-six days remain before outlandish attempts at hoodwinking the eyes of self betterment are blurted out in a drunken stupor, midst the cheer of Champaign bubbles and paper twirly bits. Every year people launch this resolution movement as if it were from the bowels of longevity only to wipe its existence from memory three weeks later. I personally think that the whole New Year's Resolution

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1133754275161464672005-12-04T19:42:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:14:20.423-08:00

I was thinking about this poem earlier. I've found nothing concrete to spat about so I've decided to include some more old stuff... EMERALD She looks out upon the city lights cape from a balcony espied nightfall’s moon. Float by deterrent winds of resolve as her sight saunters into benighted dreams. ‘Tis quiet, though voices resound, turning silence against elements of reason. Quickening is

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It is the late eve of Saturday. I’m in the presence of Macallan 12, slowly flickering candles and a plethora of randomly generated music; David Benoit, ‘Cast Your Fate to the Wind’ is the current play. The horrid bit of this literary respite is that my snifter of neat with a branch of water has run dry. I would not consider myself an alcoholic for I do not attend any meetings, but I do enjoy my

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1133552949506233862005-12-02T11:48:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:11:50.026-08:00

I have this obscure dream; it involves finding a genie in a lamp and being granted one wish. I’m somewhere between here and there and suddenly come across a magnificently brilliant brass lamp that speaks to me in some sort of mythical “Hey! Pick-me-up and rub-me!” sort of way. I of course, being tuned into this haunting madness, oblige the silent voices that beckon. I grab the corner of my

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Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1133477929500916772005-12-01T14:58:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:10:14.133-08:00

Oh my Christ! Is it me, or am I just lofting the bilge of piloted idiocy into an arena of occupants who could care less about efficient commuting? At least once a week in the twilight of eve, somewhere twixt the 134 to the 5 to the 110 to the 10 to the 405 route that brings me to the salty breeze of the marina, I bring up the rear to a lovely jam of traffic that lengthens my arrival by some

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1133393497151632832005-11-30T15:30:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:08:49.183-08:00

A LIFE WORTH LIVING Here is a bearing that I’ve not seen; Sky laden in blue and land of green. Only in dreaming had I humbled to, for my eyes refused to follow through. And I say hey, now where am I? And I shout out into the sky. My life is worth living, my dreams, worth achieving. Nothing can take that from me. Here is a feeling that I’ve not sensed; A freedom within, un-caged, un-fenced Only

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1133199738282055132005-11-28T09:41:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:07:51.750-08:00

I’m sorry. I apologize. I didn’t mean to... these are phrases that we’ve all uttered, heard, accepted and rejected. Do people really understand what an apology means? More often than not, the words "I didn’t mean to" spew from the lips of unlamented repent as a sort of after-the-fact prophylactic. "I thought I could get away with it" would be more apropos, but we seem to stray from self

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1132356644066099232005-11-18T15:29:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:06:33.426-08:00

Ad Libitum it seemed so long, long ago i just stopped breathing i didn’t know where i was destined to be no consignation beckoning me ... so silently. i seemed to float, float away i lost my balance roads were now clay begging to form from the view one inclination courting the few ... breathing anew. Chorus: whoa! this finally stings blindingly brilliant deafening things I feel ... tell me it

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1132166853857582842005-11-16T10:47:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:05:38.096-08:00

Euschistus Tristigmus; Stink bugs feed on a whole bunch of plants, injure seeds and transmit the yeast-spot disease organism. They also make your eyes water as they trot past your cubicle, airline seat or just plumb anywhere you happen to be; this is the Human Stink Bug (Euschistus Humana). What is it with the perfume people? Recently I was struck by ‘ship-bottle-for-a-shower-boy’ and found

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1131658076511665162005-11-10T13:27:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:03:58.526-08:00

I get my horoscope delivered via email every day; I’m not a devotee to its mythical delight, more of an apathetical onlooker awaiting forecasts that fit my needy little soul of skepticism. The planetary alignments, forecasting my age of truth and reason appear misinterpreted most of the time and that in itself finds me a disbeliever to its potential factory of inner peace. "If you are single,

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1131555342594131092005-11-09T08:54:00.000-08:002006-01-18T10:02:12.480-08:00

Probably best described as “WTF”, my previous entries were cut short by an inability to firmly grasp what the heck I was thinking. I’m not quite sure what I’m thinking right now, but I’m a little fed up with not putting anything down in writing and so I shall begin with this; Saka mon chewie bon! What does this mean? Hell, I don’t know. I was just responding to a letter from a friend of mine,

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1127320714853703272005-09-21T09:35:00.000-07:002006-01-18T10:00:52.570-08:00

"War is Not the Answer"; I have seen this statement on bumper stickers quite often. I’ve seen "Love is the Answer" bumper stickers about... well... I believe I’ve seen them on the back of a few VW Busses accompanied by a peace sign and a hemp leaf but I’m fairly sure that’s about it. It does not take much intellect to make statements about what is wrong in this world. It takes even less to slap

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1117747194197089702005-06-02T14:19:00.000-07:002006-01-18T09:59:56.200-08:00

Events in my life over the past few weeks have been tenuous at best; the pry of sarcasm, the weight of worry have yet to wean their search for a willing host and although my spirits flee lightly over the everglades of life, I often succumb to the swamp below. Every now and then I trip upon life’s simplicities, finding myself delivered from sorrow or anger, or just a plum rotten day. An event

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1116880897803818642005-05-23T13:41:00.000-07:002006-01-18T09:58:33.836-08:00

Kate Bush has been one of my favorite musicians since 1984. I remember hearing ‘Wuthering Heights’ and immediately finding myself captivated by her voice, her inflections and her style of writing. Her fifth album, ‘Hounds of Love’ introduced ‘Cloudbusting’. The song begins with someone awaking from dream, alone and crying. It borrows ideas from Peter Reich’s ‘A Book of Dreams’, a story about a

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This is something I wrote quite a while ago. I needed to pull a few memories from the woodwork. QUESTIONS TO COME To my child "Dad?" seeks a voice with eminent concern. "Mmm?" I reply, stopping for a moment. "How come is your paper difert dan moms?" "Mom?" I mumble again, quite puzzled. "How come your paper's difert, dan moms?" I chuckle - "What do you mean, different?" "Hers’ is the

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1115057985450889162005-05-02T11:18:00.000-07:002006-01-18T09:55:18.933-08:00

While I was proofing the published version of 'Arrival: Part IIIb', I had music playing on my PC. I have a rather large collection as my tastes vary throughout the day and I will usually have it on random. The song that was playing was 'Patches'. Sort of weird.

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1115057509010714112005-05-02T11:11:00.000-07:002006-01-18T09:52:13.353-08:00

The unexplained occurrences in my life have not followed a conventional chain of discovery. Each instance shares a common thread linked only by the fact that I have been unable to objectively define them. Night two in May of '87 was linked in time and location. On the following morning's road to work, I played the 'Patches' tape to see if the experience would duplicate itself; it did not. The

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1114616149413042372005-04-27T08:35:00.000-07:002006-01-18T09:54:09.263-08:00

By the time I was twenty, the Bay Area night club scene had already been my outlet for expression for over two years. I had become a silent icon in a patchwork of diversity; an Aquanet subscriber in a plight to maintain social status of a crowd that vehemently needed to define themselves as outcasts. I think the fact that we all looked basically the same was written off as mere coincidence.

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I am unsure as to the purpose of last night’s event, but quite aware of the result. This may not fall into the category of arrivals, but as I do not typically experience dream, I find myself absent in the psychological explanation that would metaphorically link this dream to reality... I was in the back seat of a long forgotten taxi headed into the Twin Peaks district of San Francisco. Darkness

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1112992526274184452005-04-08T13:34:00.000-07:002006-01-18T09:49:40.613-08:00

They came again last night. On February 27th I relocated to California, attempting to give flight once again to the re-occurrences in my life. Amid the seemingly successful ruse, I again woke to the familiar, unwelcome experience of ‘arrival’. It’s been exactly forty days since the last visit. I have extracted from my temporary retreat, a new way of thinking, allowing me to finally put forth

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1112376005012403222005-04-01T09:18:00.000-08:002006-01-18T09:47:42.433-08:00

or Ten Days – Poof! “Ha, ha - you fool. You fell victim to one on the most classic blunders of all time. The first; is never get involved in a land war in Asia. The second; never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line”... oh yeah, don’t every say that you were busy on Thursday, October 5, 1582. In 45 BC, Julius Caesar introduced the Julian Calendar into the yuppie bibles of the

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1112034032176830032005-03-28T10:19:00.000-08:002006-01-18T09:45:56.643-08:00

or the Poison Buried in the Sand “All day I face the barren waste, without the taste of water”... these are the first two lines from track one, side two of Joni Mitchell’s 1988 album ‘Chalk Mark in a Rainstorm’. If I were parched as a prickly pear, I would most definitely welcome the taste of cool, clear water to calm my desiccated tongue. My youth engendered a belief that adulthood was the

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1111769815495305322005-03-25T08:54:00.000-08:002006-01-18T09:43:13.973-08:00

or How I learned to love da bomb baby! Flirtation can be quite the aphrodisiac. Ones attractiveness to others can really make you want to saunter up to the display case of life and shout “Yeah baby! Do I make you horny?” When you peer into the mythical tale of Adam and Eve (stay with me here), there is the flirtatious concept of one becoming like God by eating fruit from the tree of knowledge (

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1111690177466971982005-03-24T10:43:00.000-08:002006-01-18T09:41:14.046-08:00

Released sometime in 1975, San Francisco band "Little Roger and the Goosebumps" parodied Led Zeppelins "Stairway to Heaven" and without obtaining legal rights to the music, was quickly done away with. I have a very un-clean version of this in mp3 form and would love to get a decent version... anyone, anyone... You can hear it here; http://www.gilligansisle.com/stairway.html

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1111444993734404092005-03-21T14:42:00.000-08:002006-01-18T09:40:16.300-08:00

... is a course I have not taken. But it does not mean that I can’t do a little research to enhance the appearance that I behold a wealthy command of the Latin language. I just hope that I’ve made a respectable translation into the meaning I strove for. I fumbled through the banks of free flowing thought for a title that would be striking, yet meaningful, until the phrase ‘idiot savant’ popped

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11537431.post-1111162895391160682005-03-18T07:56:00.000-08:002006-01-18T09:38:32.256-08:00

The directional identity for this blog has yet to define itself. I begin this expulsion of inner thought with no apparent intent, outside of the desire to say “I have a blog too!”, then quickly question all present as to their blog status so that my current political amputations and ethical wire striding may dissipate into the realm of non-interest. I suppose that behind the façade of simplicity

Harmon J. Sedgwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10951155644700979351noreply@blogger.com0