Friday, February 11, 2005
Davis sat in his car and studied the bricks that formed the Riverside Health Clinic. That was where his therapist was. He wondered if anybody elses imagination envisioned the bricks being placed, one-by-one, forming the building, like his did. Could anybody else see this land before the Health Clinic was there? -- when just the river flowed by, and the people drank and their thirst was quenched.
kEith
3:48 PM
Thursday, August 26, 2004
time has been rapidly advancing... in fact i haven't the notion of where the last month has gone...yet still we write on and on and there's no need to write here when I can write there that is where the book becomes a novel and the word becomes elite.... i have grown... all that has been planned is now coming to be... and all the old bloggers can rejoice with me since 2001 . . . . . .
time.
kEith
12:02 AM
Friday, May 21, 2004
Still plugging away. Still plugging away. Still plugging away. Still plug-ing a way.
Friends, for those interested in the by and bys of a writer, extraordinaire, then you may wish to know that I am neither a writer, nor am I extraordinaire. Except of course on those special spots in time when I am a writer and extraordinaire. Suffice to say, I'm on my way, this piece of work, will soon show girth.
Because, you see, the thing is, the way I create, is, sort of, like, well, sort of like visiting a town every so often. It's a movie that comes and goes. It's not all that glamorous. This television show. And sometimes it's altogether frightening. And don't even consider how you'll ever finish these things. And forget altogether the logic behind writing intellectual fiction. Forget that altogether.
kEith
9:00 AM
Monday, April 12, 2004
I'm at the Honda Dealership2, getting a car wash. (You know the free monthly one promised to me by the salesperson.) Now there's a computer here, a complimentary one. So I'm using it, cause I can't stand the time being lost. The precious time being lost in the dealership. This dealership where the smiles come with nicotine stained teeth, where the handshakes have the viper's grip. This dealership where the deals . . . .
But, hect, they're washing my car for free. And I'm using their office. Donut anyone?
And look there it is now. Pretty fast. Like I wasn't here at all3.
This place's not that bad.
For a car dealership . . . .
______________________________________________________
2 The task of purchasing an automobile can be trying to the thoughtful, ponderous, sensitive type. The issue of being indebted to such a piece of technology that does, in its very special way contribute haphazardly to the effective decay of the momentously beautiful specimen of creation known as planet earth, is trying. Worse though is the inevitable economic banter, the furious acquiesce of the sensitive consumer to participate and indulge in a capitalistic dance that dare I say reflects everything that is corrupt about Trade.
3 Was I even there?
kEith
3:02 PM
Sunday, April 11, 2004
Here it is then. The victory dance. I'm not giving up. I've finally arrived. So then if you want to track the storied life of a brilliant author . . . . here's your chance. This blog1 offers the details. This is the story--the story within the story. (words behind the words?)
I should be humble, humility is truth. But what about anti-humility or humility in reverse. Can someone be so concerned with humility that they never say anything? or try anything? or be anything?
Some folks subscribe to the belief that God doesn't want us to shine . . . .
I'm creative. I'll declare it!
It's like this:
I know that I am destined to create potent pieces of literature and art for this generation and generation's of the future (and maybe the past?)
I've known this very fact since 1992. And in my early days I was consumed with the need to produce it. As seen by my earlier posts. This anxiety hindered production. As seen by my slow output. But still, I've always known this Truth about myself. And it's beautiful to know and share and celebrate. And I am so sure of this that I can declare this to one, and all. And I'm not concerned with every word being acurate here. I'm no longer going to hinder myself with judgement over use of the occasional cliche'.
What it is, is . . . Doing liberates.
So unless I die (a possibility of any moment) real humility . . . .
So unless I die, I will contribute, and endlessly, rejoice, celebrate, give, and bemuse, my gifts and yours.
please, stay tuned .
____________________________
1 i give myself permission to call this a blog, since that's the word commonly used to communicate a communication medium as this.
kEith
12:32 AM
Saturday, April 10, 2004
This book will be finished . . . .
What a hiatus.
What, a hiatus?
Well fans, the fever and fury and post-pre-post-modern epic tomfoolery is back. Dead in the Bathtub Water is alive and kicking,
Davis Rutherford, The Third is up to his old tricks . . . . namely wasting valuable amounts of potent intellect fillbustering through hairbrained existance.
But . . . stay tuned because a man with such potential energy got's to be up to something good !!!
Things to look forward to:
a complete overhaul of this blog, Jelly Filled Catharsis
the long awaited resolution of the Jeremy's Prophecy Dot Com, project . . . or the truth (as best as I can tell it)
the completion of the Trilogy Dancing in the Shower, Dead in the Bathtub Water (being developed here) and another YES! another wild creation of which the title I will wait to reveal.
my personal website http://www.KeithKimmel.net (An Exploration in Thought) see here.
And much, much more. I'm tempted to, but I won't say, "But wait. . . . There's more." Because that would make me seem like a real marketing fanatic. Not that "And much, much more." is any more swank.
Anyways, you sees, I gots some passion and finally, FINALLY, for real this time (and you die hards know what I mean). I'm making this happen. So watch as the production grows. Insert dread here. But really what's a good author to do.
I needed time to think.
I've thought enough.
Now I do.
kEith
1:32 AM
Jeremy Jacobs, Jeremy's Prophecy Dot Com, and Jeremy in the song Jeremy by the musical act Pearl Jam.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
There has been a recent hullabaloo about the Jeremy in the song by Pearl Jam and Jeremy Jacobs of Jeremy's Prophecy Dot Com fame. The Jeremy from the Pearl Jam song is not, in fact, the Jeremy from Jeremy's Prophecy Dot Com. Interestingly enough, however, these two Jeremy's share many characteristics. Jeremy from Pearl Jam presents himself as a troubled child not much different than the vain of Jeremy in Jeremy's Prophecy Dot Com.
Nevertheless, what must be said is that, Jeremy in and of itself is quite an inspirational name, in so far, as I the author of the book in question chose this name Jeremy without ever having really listened to the Jeremy song by Pearl Jam.
update (the truth): There really hasn't been much hullabaloo about Jeremy and the Pearl Jam song.
kEith
10:23 PM
Politics
Let's be frank. A recent conversation of mine with an old friend from Colorado inspired me to be gratuitist. As you may know, Dead in the Bathtub Water, and it's alter ego Dancing in the Shower, are doing fine and well. So much so that I've just about neglected this blog all together. But, if not for a certain Northern Coloradian who claims, although I haven't seen him since his more burly days, to have lost a few sizes from his pants, I might have just as well left this blog alone.
But, this fellow, a friend of the progressive sort, finds in his down time it necessary to surf the Internet for his own name. Being of vain stock myself, I understand such self admiration and would like, if possible, to help his cause by publishing his name here. This, of course, is no small honor, as few, real people ever do make it to the official Dead in the Bathtub Water blog page. Joseph Rouse, however is one. So be proud, be happy, be real, Joseph Rouse, you've made it, by no small sweat off your bushy brow onto the page of pages, blog of blogs, onto the official list.
In so far as I've resigned and or relinquished all control to the goings on of this blog, if you, sweethearts, and sweet gentleman would, too like to be a part of this never ending Prize winning novel, get in touch with me. For I am open to suggestions of the most peculiar sort.
kEith
7:01 PM
Keith Kimmel
Thursday, November 27, 2003
A message from the original Keith Kimmel
Just so you know. My official name is Keith Sean Kimmel, this is the name I was given when I was born at a very secret location that you will never know about. Anyway, when I decided to write my first book, I chose, out of humility, to simply call myself Keith Kimmel. I figured, "hey, who needs to be all grandiose about a name?" Little did I know that some absolute FOOL, yes an angry fool (who no doubt will get even more angry when he reads this) and who (perhaps has his reasons for being angry) and (regardless of one's reasons anger is a sucker's game) see here for more. AND (no one's to say I have never been angry before) BUTTTTTT This guy probably crossed the line when he decided to make a website called F**KNationalCity.com. ORRRRR Maybe he didn't. Maybe this corporation (I'm assuming this is a corporation) really was in need of a serious ass whopping by a certain rebellious Keith Kimmel (who is not me). Maybe this corporation was run by a really Really GREEDY ball pounding loser who had it coming. (Thing is I don't know.) But, I do know that this Angry Keith Kimmel who took on this corporation is not me, although we share very similar names. In any event, (and here's the point) as a result of this Keith Kimmel's actions I have decided that my name can longer just be Keith Kimmel. It seems folks are getting me confused with him. Therefore I am now, K.S. Kimmel.
But, if you wish you can call me:
Zimmel
or
K.S.
or
K. Sean Kimmel
or
Keith
or
Keith Sean Kimmel
or even
Keith Kimmel (but . . . that's not my name no more)
peACe
update 4-9-04 :: after re-reading this manic rant i feel an explanation perhaps is in order. yes, yes, yes you can still call me Keith Kimmel. in fact that's pretty much what I'm going by now. K.S. Kimmel was nice, but, again the humility thing. Beside initials for names is so 20th century.
kEith
3:08 AM
Friday, November 14, 2003
To the champions of the world. The few of you who hear. Do you know where your watch is?
kEith
6:47 PM
Blogging
Blogging is seriously the most over-rated, hyped, up butter-ball, nuisance I ever did see. {CONTROVERSY} If ever vanity had a place HERE is where it would be. [note to self . . . link to beautiful, sexy picture of me will link to the word "HERE"]
READ.
The other option is to sit on your couch, eat pepperoni, watch k-9 boxing and sip caviar.
---------------------------------------
"I don't get it," says the reader.
"Read on," says the blogger.
update 4-10-04 These then begin the searching moments of my epic career. work with me??
kEith
12:57 AM
Independence Day
Sunday, July 06, 2003
Solemn to the broken winged march; tube socks and sneakers churn on asphalt; to the lawn they go. Men with bellies, women long since resigning dreams of beauty; they’re clothed in stiff t-shirts with logos—red, white, blue.
Bang, pop, spark, the fireworks explode. What is it that they're celebrating?
kEith
8:34 PM
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
Rhythm never lies.
Harmony, like a trumpet's blare, unites.
For what else but Music can we who breath rely?
Words alone cannot initiate dance.
kEith
1:21 AM
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
Oh speak to me willed one.
Who hasn’t but to pay their fair here?
Which of you tastes the acorn of the flint of the pine,
without buds more dull than grit?
Grant me my gift of earning—crops of seeds of sweet seasons.
Nurture what willed with movement of the land, with heat and wind and water as it is.
Grow I say in time of growth.
And strong one . . . . With haste remind me of my penalty; so I soon not forget.
Humble me with the grace of this gem which never be bought or sold, where currency yield as sea to shore. Find me the tycoon who considers such benevolence to market.
Let me put off yet again reward. For who but the wealthiest in spirit knows the liberation provided.
Knowest to judge another is judging me. As it is me and you. But let me know you more than me know them. As them judges and we is me. You and we. You and me. So it is so. And so that, allow haste his passage and grant us the days and nights, of time’s bountiful harvest.
kEith
9:18 PM
Monday, March 24, 2003
So Davis gathered just enough silver to procure Mrs. Gertrude’s VW Vanagen from the lot in which it sat like a flower pot for sixteen years. Oh yes, he’d go far with it. He’d have his guitar strapped to his shoulder and his paintbrush in his pocket. There’s no tellin’ where Davis might find himself once he fixed up the thing. There was a bridge that crossed the Bearing Straits, yes? He’d be in Spain before the New Year, sipping sangria enjoying the bull fights. He could be like Hemingway soaking up the Mediterranean sun basking in the futility of it all. He could leave everything behind, his girl, his dreams, his hope, if he could just rig the engine and replace a few pistons.
kEith
7:51 PM
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
And if grit be in my shoes, I will love still.
And if the roof shingles crumble, I will love still.
And if my bones whither to ash or clothes wilt to lint, I will love still.
And pelt me with ice, and pierce me with sand, I will love still.
And burn my mind with sun and blind my vision with light,
And I (still) will love still.
kEith
9:20 PM
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
“Jaime?”
“Yes, Davis.”
“I am as withered as a wilted farm stool. I cannot bear this, anymore.”
“What is it that you bear?” Jaime asked.
“This . . . this . . . awareness.”
“Awareness?”
“More like, vivid awareness. No, more like lonely, vivid, awareness. I see His fingerprint everywhere. I see His hands in all the things of this world. Look here.” Davis pointed to the library’s computer monitor and it’s photo display of a striking, laser starburst. “This wallpaper, here on the monitor, this blue laser graphic streak thing, I see Him.”
“Who?”
“God, of course.”
“Where, where do you see God?”
“In the laser, man. Come on.”
“What do you mean, you see God?”
“He’s here, here in the laser. And he’s behind this laser—this spectacle. See him; oh He is so clear and too He mocks me. Hear him whisper. He says: ‘Look at me. Here I am.’ And what a peacock. He displays his wears like a proud magician. He’s not shy.”
“Is this He you see?” Jaime said.
“Oh how can I tell. He hides his face. I look and do not find, I seek and do not discover; He is a child playing hide and go seek.”
“Perhaps there’s an explanation.”
“Explanation,” Davis said.
“Do you look at a painting and resent the artist when he is not present as you view it?” Jaime said.
“Well . . . .”
“The why begrudge Him? Is He not like this artist?”
kEith
8:09 PM
Thursday, February 13, 2003
“It would be wise not to laugh in the face of the wind, you, who doesn’t know from where your breath comes. It would be better if you drowned yourself than continue your charade.”
“Shut up, Davis,” said Scott.
“I will never shut up. Not until the last of you hear what the Living God has told me to say. Fools you are, abusing your nicotine and bad wine, dreaming you can escape the will of your creator, stealing from your co-worker, ignoring the beggar. Answer me this. When you meet He who made you, He who separated the seas from the sands, He who gave birth to the clouds, He who designed the food you eat, what will you say?”
“I don’t give a shit,” said Scott. He finished his dark Michelob beer.
“Here these words, Scott, for all your health resides on them. Repent. Give. Give as much as you have taken. Give more. You will not make it past the end of this world. You will burn for ever more.”
Scott spit in Davis’ face, laughed, lit a cigarette, inhaled, exhaled, looked to see if there was a “hot chick” to eye, stood up from the barstool, adjusted his belt, lifted his designer slacks, fell down, grabbed his chest and died.
kEith
8:24 AM
Sunday, February 09, 2003
this post is continued from 2-4-03 post:
"I've never done this before," Davis said inching closer to her sweaty body.
"Yes you have." She smiled.
Davis was confused. Never had he made love to a complete stranger.
"I must confess this has never happened before," said Davis.
"Perhaps," she said rubbing her hands on her plump breasts.
"Perhaps?. . . It's the truth."
"Oh Davis, you're so feisty." Davis now lay beside her. Her skin was smooth up close. He felt dizzy. Her slick nails flowed like a rake down his flaky back. “But you have, Davis. You do every day. You make love to the TV.
“TV?”
“Oh, yes Davis.” Her lips were full and smelled like a department store.
“But the television is an inanimate object, and I don’t even watch television."
“Don’t lie, Davis. Your heart lusts after those woman on the reality shows.”
“What’s wrong with the woman on reality shows?”
“Nothing, just like there’s nothing wrong with the two of lusting. They are the same.”
“You’re a live woman, though!” Davis said.
“Yes, so are they.”
{more later)
Author's note: I'm attempting to, and have not succeded yet, to draw the analogy that making love to a stranger is just like making love to a TV. Imagine fucking a TV. If your a male, imagine sticking your **** , or rather imagine cutting a hole in the back of the thing and sticking your **** in it, feel the scrape, the wires prickling about, the lifelessness. And to the ladies, imagine a big clunky television jammed up your ****, imagine the pressure as each part pokes and tears. How violating.
Is this what making love is? All this sex on TV, I might as well be drinking rust.
kEith
7:21 PM
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Davis had a dream. He was about to have sex with a blond nymph named Jezebel. She lay length wide on his twin bed wearing nothing but faux leather, chocolate, cowboy boots. Her legs, bent slightly, were as smooth as gravy and her hair was as fine as silt. She was tall, her ass was like a heart shaped pillow.
“Were did you come from?” Davis said.
“The bottom of a lake.”
“Why are you here?”
“To make love with you, of course,” whispered she. Then with her rhythmic index finger she summoned him.
“I’ve never done this before,” Davis said edging closer to her naked body.
kEith
5:01 PM
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
You have nothing. Nothing is yours. We all know this. All of us. So why are we still playing this game. This game limits our love. It's awful. All sadness, all depression, all confusion, all. all. all. is each of our faults. And yet there's nothing we can do. We have nothing, but the awesome light of the creator itself, shining, shining, shining. All's I wants to do is praise this LIFE GIVER. Connection to him/her is everything and yet, my days are filled with Capitalistic flotsam. I have to pay this bill to drive that car to . . . For what! Oh this song has been sung so many times. Dear God forgive my lament.
When will I build the house of my dreams, never to tally in the midnight of this broken city? When will the raging bull retire? When will the ball not bounce? When will the anointed rise?
Oh mysterious one, all we have are each other, and still I must speak with these people, these drunk with Satan’s tonic. For what is my work worth? May I quit this charade—I haven’t the skill to work this machine. But just one more lap—strength for just one more lap. Does the chiseler stop with half the stone? Then why? But what if he chisels a stone that is dirty?
“What isn’t dirty, my son?”
Then, Father, wash this place CLEAN, oh LORD. Please put this earth through your laundry mat.
“As if suds were the answer.”
kEith
3:02 PM
Sunday, January 26, 2003
"I think I'm losing myself, I mean if I can't 'wow' them with my wit what will win them," Davis said snubbing an unlit stale, (description later.)
"Why, Davis there's no need to win when you've already won."
"What?"
"The grand prize. Yes, the great glee."
kEith
8:36 PM
Thursday, January 16, 2003
Jamie and Davis went to jog at Devil's Lair Field. Davis went to the public water fountain to sip a drink. Jaime asked if he was thirsty and Davis said he wasn't, that he was just fueling up. Jaime rebuked him and said, "Drink only when you are thirsty and then drink like a horse."
kEith
10:42 PM
Tuesday, January 14, 2003
Okay, okay, I was going to retire this thing. I wont, but, back to the book. Once and for all I will write a book here. All this stuff is for a book. A book I say. . . .
And Jaime walked into the room and people fell down and Marissa said, "I think I've found what I'm looking for." And she knelt down to shine Jaime's Birkenstocks. And then a circus clown came in and everybody celebrated and danced the two-step and all was grand until one jokster decided he would eat an ice cream cone. Curiously, Jaime looked at the boy who nearly lept and said, "Look this is a workshop and I don't care if this makes sense anymore."
kEith
1:57 AM
Thursday, January 09, 2003
do you judge me? do you say, "Who does he think he is?"
I am Keith Kimmel a human being.
kEith
10:28 PM
Wednesday, January 08, 2003
Go here for a sad truth.
kEith
10:52 PM
Thursday, January 02, 2003
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
For those of you who've been following my saga from the beginning you may be happy or sad to know that everything I've written up to this moment was completely and utterly desperate.
That said everything I write from this day forward is completely and utterly perfect.
Caveat: kEIth Kimmel and Jeremy's Prophecy Dot Com are the same thing. Yet they also intertwine into some chaotic life imitates art extravaganza that is Worth Investigating. What I mean is, if you are intelligent enough, or willing enough, you CAN discover the Key to the Universe through me. Well not actually through me, but I can help. Nevertheless, I am really not doing anything except being a HUMBLE servant. And those are not words to take lightly. IN fact if your looking for something light go suck some helium because here the only LIGHT is Jesus.
Ah jesus. Jesus? What’s a Jewish Kid from . . . well I won’t say where I'm from less you bother my neighbors but, what’s a jewish kid . . . talking about Jesus. Well. Why not? You got something better to talk about.
The past year I HAVE DESTROYED MYSELF TRYING TO REACH EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU WHO READ THIS. And don’t think I don’t know you read this because I do. How? Well there are ways to check these things but that’s not important right now. What is important is that you are the LUCKY ONES. You are the ones who followed this story when I didn’t even know what was going on. YOU GOT THE BEHIND THE SCENES, when they happened. You participated. In fact, you helped. You had to help because you were there and THEY weren’t. Now THEY WILL ALL COME and tell all kinds of stories about me. But the TRUTH speaks for itself.
So back to Jesus. Yes Jesus. Apparently some carpenter from Bethlehem who lived thousands of years ago. No, not apparently but true.
Look let me say one thing. I (meaning Keith Kimmel, human being) could care less how you live your life or what philosophy you call your own. I almost died caring. Now I’m simply report the TRUTH. You got a better way. Live it up. You’ll die trying. You can’t refute me because I have no agenda. I am a human being. You're reading these words. I am happy.
One day, a man, a humble man, came to this earth to save people from their own folly. For whatever reason, this is so. If you’d rather not believe me. FINE. Believe your doctors and lawyers and politicians and newscasters. Believe the man on the street who sells you hot dogs. Believe the temptress who carries genital herpes. Believe your mother and father and sister and brother and aunt and uncle and grandma and grandpa and surgeon and minister and preacher and tax collector and cable operator and surgeon (note: I’m aware I’ve written surgeon twice) and . . . die anyway.
In my day I was the skeptic of skeptics, course I smoked my fair share of cigarettes (When I say fair share I mean enough to make me ASHAMED.)
We live in the GOLDEN era folks. Jump on the train. Reap the benefits of all those FISHERMAN who have worked in the generations before. OR Don’t. In fact don’t! Or do! You see it makes no difference to me.
Your mind can't think through the TRUTH. Your heart has no say. Open your eyes to hear the trumpet of the lord cry victory. Or sit on your ass and complain. I swear to God I could care less. I've passed my test. Anybody who JUDGES the following words is judging the word of GOD. "Hi Folks I'm God the creator. I sent my son Jesus to save you about 2000 years ago."
Hey listen, why would I write what I just wrote if it weren't God talking. You think I'm on some power trip. You think it's fun being a spokesperson? It's not. But I'll tell you it's everything compared to the alternative--NOT being A SPOKESPERSON.
Until tomorrow.
kEIth
kEith
1:22 AM
Monday, December 30, 2002
Forget about the future. She doesn't exist. Adonai condemned the future with mistakes from the past.
kEith
1:07 PM
Wednesday, December 25, 2002
God is hot. He’s a “hotty”. He’s so beautiful. Just one look and you’ll be hooked.
kEith
12:38 PM
Tuesday, December 24, 2002
I'm the only one who can help me. For my fear is mine and my judgment is mine and my sentence is mine and I am the cure. I am the CURE. I AM THE CURE.
kEith
10:09 AM
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
?
kEith
7:40 PM
Thursday, December 12, 2002
Rather than words, tonight I offer this:
kEith
8:22 PM
