Government-Issued Halloween "Fun Facts"

Government-Issued Halloween "Fun Facts"
By: Jake Kilroy | October 30, 2008 3:33 PM

If you're ever wondering what the Census Bureau does with all of its public information around holidays, you don't need to wait any longer to find out. I'll tell you what they do: they compile all of their cute statistics and send them to national business magazines.

So, in the spirit of Halloween, here are your festive dollars in the government at work: FESTIVE STATS

36 million
The estimated number of potential trick-or-treaters in 2007--children 5 to 13--across the United States. This number is down about 38,000 from a year earlier. Of course, many other children--older than 13 and younger than 5--also go trick-or-treating.
Source: Population Estimates
www.census.gov/Press-Release/www/releases/archives/population/011910.html

110.3 million
Number of occupied housing units across the nation in 2007--all potential stops for trick-or-treaters.
Source: Housing Vacancies and Homeownership
www.census.gov/hhes/www/housing/hvs/historic/histt15.html>

93%
Percentage of households with residents who consider their neighborhood safe. In addition, 78 percent said there was no place within a mile of their homes where they would be afraid to walk alone at night.
Source: Extended Measures of Well-Being: Living Conditions in the United States, 2003
www.census.gov/PressRelease/www/releases/archives/families_households/009884.html

1.1 billion pounds
Total production of pumpkins by major pumpkin-producing states in 2007. Illinois led the country by producing 542 million pounds of the vined orange gourd. Pumpkin patches in California, New York and Ohio also provided lots of pumpkins: Each state produced at least 100 million pounds. The value of all pumpkins produced by major pumpkin-producing states was $117 million.
Source: USDA National Agricultural Statistics Service
www.nass.usda.gov/index.asp



CREEPY PLACES

Some places around the country that may put you in the Halloween mood are:

1) Transylvania County, N.C. (29,984 residents).
Source: Population estimates 2007
www.census.gov/Press-Release/www/releases/archives/population/011635.html

2) Tombstone, Ariz. (population 1,562).
Source: Population estimates 2007
www.census.gov/Press-Release/www/releases/archives/population/012242.html

3) Pumpkin Center, N.C. (population 2,228); and Pumpkin Bend, Ark. (population 307).
Source: Census 2000
http://factfinder.census.gov/servlet/BasicFactsServlet

4) Cape Fear in New Hanover County, N.C. (15,711); and Cape Fear in Chatham County, N.C. (1,170).
Source: Census 2000
http://factfinder.census.gov/servlet/BasicFactsServlet

5) Skull Creek, Neb. (population 274).
Source: Population estimates 2007
www.census.gov/Press-Release/www/releases/archives/population/012242.html



MORE NUMBERS

1,170
Number of U.S. manufacturing establishments that produced chocolate and cocoa products in 2006, employing 39,457 people and shipping $13.9 billion worth of goods. California led the nation in the number of chocolate and cocoa manufacturing establishments, with 128, followed by Pennsylvania, with 116.
Source: 2006 County Business Patterns
www.census.gov/PressRelease/www/releases/archives/county_business_patterns/012181.html and 2006 Annual Survey of Manufacturers, Value of Product Shipments www.census.gov/mcd/asm-as2.html

473
Number of U.S. establishments that manufactured non-chocolate confectionary products in 2006. These establishments employed 18,733 people and shipped $7.2 billion worth of goods that year. California led the nation in this category, with 72 establishments.
Source: 2006 County Business Patterns
www.census.gov/PressRelease/www/releases/archives/county_business_patterns/012181.html and 2006 Annual Survey of Manufacturers, Value of Product Shipments
www.census.gov/mcd/asm-as2.html

24.5 pounds
Per capita consumption of candy by Americans in 2007.
Source: Current Industrial Reports, Confectionery: 2007
www.census.gov/cir/www/311/ma311d.html>

2,077
Number of costume rental and formal wear establishments across the nation in 2006.
Source: 2006 County Business Patterns
www.census.gov/PressRelease/www/releases/archives/county_business_patterns/012181.html

Questions or comments should be directed to the Census Bureau's Public Information Office: telephone: 301-763-3030; fax: 301-763-3762; or e-mail: pio@census.gov

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part VI - Opening Night & Closing Shop)

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part VI - Opening Night & Closing Shop)
By: Jake Kilroy | October 29, 2008 3:07 PM

The grand opening was upon me, a little 6-year-old entrepreneur dressed in a bow tie.

I came up with the idea, I wrote the business plan, I named the company, I hired the employees and I marketed to the customers.

Now it was time to make some money.

And my restaurant "eEvita's" was a huge success.

Relatives poured in from all over the county (yes, county) to eat at my restaurant.

My brother and sister sat people and took drink orders, my mother cooked, my father was the busboy and I hammed it up as the manager: shaking hands, welcoming relatives like strangers, probably speaking with some silly accent that I made up as I went.

I took all of the orders and even ran out a few meals. Sometimes, as an entrepreneur, you have to put in some of your own labor.

But I was also an approachable owner; asking how the meals were, asking how the customers were, asking them what they were planning to give me for my birthday in two months.

I was stern, but still exceptionally kind to my employees, and even nicer to the customers. I was working hard and moving faster than I had the following Halloween when I ate 10 Snickers bars in less than three minutes.

My investors/parents were proud, my host and hostess liked me as a boss (and as an older brother), and my customers swore that they would return.

But...alas, like Robert Frost and Ponyboy Curtis said long before me, "Nothing gold can stay." I decided that the restaurant was a lot of fun, but also a lot of work. I took my money and went on a small spending spree, saving the rest for the coming summer.

It was 1992 and I was rich. Well, I suppose if you have any amount of income over $30 in first grade, you're some kind of venture capitalist. You're really just your own selfish investment at 6 years old.

Author Robert Fulghum once said, "All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten." As for me, everything I really needed to know about business I learned in first grade.

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part V - Marketing)

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part V - Marketing)
By: Jake Kilroy | October 27, 2008 10:48 AM

evita.JPGI had employees now. I had a busboy (my father), a cook (my mother), a hostess (my sister), a host (my brother) and a waiter (myself).

But I had no customers.

I asked my investors (who were also my busboy, my cook and my parents) to buy a massive flashing neon sign to put on the front lawn, but they had to invest their money in the company car (also known as the Subaru station wagon that took me to Little League).

So I needed to devise a marketing plan.

"Direct mail can happen fast. With a modest campaign to a known target audience, you can acquire a mailing list, develop mailing materials (including direct-mail letter, flier, reply card), launch a mailing and start to receive results in just a few months. This is faster than the typical advertising campaign--and a lot faster than waiting for the phone to ring," says Jack Ferrari here and in his book Successful Sales & Marketing.

Problem is that I had no money and the only target audience I knew of was anyone who showed up for my backyard magic shows during the summer.

So I considered word-of-mouth instead.

"Building your business through word-of-mouth is about cultivating relationships with people who get to know you and trust you. People do business with people they have confidence in," says Ivan Misner here. Misner is co-author of The New York Times bestseller Masters of Networking. "One of the most important things I've learned in the past two decades is this: It's not what you know, or who you know, it's how well you know them that counts."

Word-of-mouth is especially brilliant in elementary school. In fact, grade school is an impressive network of communication altogether: 12:05--a kid squirts milk out of his nose, 12:30--everybody else knows which kid lost his head and the joke that made it happen.

But my fellow students didn't have money and I had no connections/patience for word-of-mouth for adults.

So I delegated the work. I had my mother and father call every one of my local relatives and invite/demand them to eat at my restaurant.

Opening Night was upon me.

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part IV - Hiring)

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part IV - Hiring)
By: Jake Kilroy | October 24, 2008 9:39 AM

evita.JPGMy restaurant had a name now, "eEvita's." [To read about the exhausting naming process and hear some spunky recaps of childhood, check out Why My First Business Succeeded (Part III - Naming The Business)]

Now, it was time to hire. This was my business. This was my time to shine. Yes, I was only 6 years old, but I was really quite mature. I don't know when I first tied my shoelaces by myself, but I'm pretty sure it was well before most of the other kids.

The next day at recess, I approached my peers about jobs during kickball.

"How'd you like to come work for me?" I said, rocking back and forth on my feet and snapping my suspenders (which I only wore until third grade, I think).

"Can I be the waiter?" every one of my friends seemed to ask.

"No, I get to be the waiter," I'd tell them. "You can take everyone's plate when they're done."

"I don't want to do that. That sounds stupid," they'd respond.

"Nu-uh. Now you can't even come to my restaurant. How do you like that?" I'd explain to them in my most professional tone.

Bottom line: I realized it was a tight-rope walk to hire friends and I was afraid of the fall.*

Plus, if I had to fire them, who would I play kickball with anyway?

"There needs to be a certain sense of objectivity and accountability in the workplace. Friends and family expect to be treated to a different standard--and they should. Away from your business, but never in it," says Brad Sugars here. Sugars is the author of 14 business books, including The Business Coach.

But since I was only 6, I could only hire friends or family. So I chose family. They never threw dirt clods. And I figured that was a safer bet.

However, I had no idea where to get customers, or as I called them then, "people who like to give money." I needed a marketing strategy.

*AN ABSENT-MINDED FOOTNOTE: I was talking to my mother earlier this week about this six-part blog series, and apparently, I did, in fact, hire one friend: Brian Jones. I'm still friends with Brian, but I sure don't remember hiring him. So I thought I'd let my mother tell the story...

Jake's Mother: "Jake's friend and fellow classmate, Brian, would come to our house every morning to pick up Jake to walk with us to school. Jake was very excited about starting his business and enlisted Brian to help him early each morning before school. As Brian would sit on the floor, Jake would dictate what to write as he paced around the room. It was during these early mornings that Jake came up with the menu, ingredients needed and instructions to the chef as to how to prepare all the items, so as to present the plan to his investors: His Dad and Mom. It was also during one of these many planning sessions that Jake announced that he would talk to his Dad about removing the front lawn so as to build a parking lot."

What a trip, eh?




AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's a photograph (in an octagon because it was part of a collage before this) of my father working for me as a busboy at my restaurant. Yes, I'm well aware that the man raised me, but I was running a business, not a family. And, on a related note, he was a fantastic busboy.

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part III - Naming The Business)

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part III - Naming The Business)
By: Jake Kilroy | October 22, 2008 9:53 AM

Since my business plan went through [see cute story here], it was time to start my restaurant. Yes, I was only 6, but I had dreams, dammit.

I needed a name now. I wanted something that sounded "classy but hip," "old school but modern," "give me your money but in a wildly fair way where you and I both remain totally guiltless about the prices."

Calling it "Jake's" was too obvious, too predictable, too cliché. Too Michael down the street (this kid who once stole a bunch of my pogs, when my dad had said he was a bad kid from day one).

Everyone was expecting "Jake's."

Instead, I thought about naming it after my favorite things, but what wealthy customers (when you're in first grade, that's just about anyone with over $50 in his or her pockets) would eat at a restaurant called "Chocolateballoonsgokartsdancingcartoonsrecess?"

Also, such a name could've been misleading anyway.

I began to realize that naming the restaurant might actually be harder than chapter books without pictures.

Here, Peter S. Sloane, an attorney specializing in trademark matters and a partner at Ostrolenk Faber LLP, and David Perla, a lawyer and co-founder of Pangea3, a leading legal outsourcing company, have three rules for naming your company:

1. Don't assume you own a trademark.

2. Don't use geographically descriptive terms.

3. Don't go adjective crazy.

Then it clicked.

I knew what I wanted to name it, and I considered the name to be hip, edgy and sophisticated.

I came up with "eEvita's."

No, that's not a typo, nor was it a misspelling years ago. I thought of myself as an innovative grammatical renegade.

My mother remembers a different story, saying that I wrote the lower case first and was too lazy to get a new piece of paper. But mothers will be mothers, I suppose. Well, except for in this story, the mother will be a cook and valued employee.

John Williams, the founder and president of LogoYes.com, the world's first do-it-yourself logo design website, poses two questions for naming your company here:

1. Is it easy to say? Names are said more than read. After all, when words are read, they're also spoken in the mind of the reader.

Bam. Easy to say. You just say it like the first "e" is missing. It's pronounced "Evita's."

2. Is it easy to spell? Can customers find it in the phone book or "Google" it without trouble? Usually words that are easy to spell are also relatively short. Avoid acronyms (e.g., "K.A.T.G. Enterprises") and "clever" names that require analysis from your reader (e.g., "CU4 Lunch").

Ok, so the first "e" might have been misleading, but we weren't in the phone book anyway. Besides, this is circa 1992. It's not like they could've easily looked the place up online. The only time the word "Google" was ever used was in the phrase "googley eyes" during arts-and-crafts time.

So now I had a business plan for a company with a name. I was ready to expand. But who was coming with me?

Here's the sign that I made and pinned to the front door:

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part II - Writing The Business Plan)

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part II - Writing The Business Plan)
By: Jake Kilroy | October 20, 2008 9:34 AM

With my favorite markers in hand, I stood at my easel, ready to write my business plan. It had to be just right, so my parents would accept my proposal and buy all of the groceries for my restaurant.

The problem was that I was a 6-year-old hell-bent on being an entrepreneur. I wasn't even sure what a business plan was or what the flaws could be. [For a nostalgic trek back to the glory days of childhood imagination and a recap on how I made it to the business plan stage, see my last (wildly exciting and adorable) entry, "Why My First Business Succeeded (Part I - Starting Out)"]

"When [investors] see [a business plan] with spelling, punctuation and grammar errors, they immediately wonder what else is wrong with the business," says Andrew Clarke, the CEO of Ground Floor Partners, a business consulting firm that helps early-stage, small and middle-market businesses. "But since there's no shortage of people looking for capital, they don't wonder for long--they just move on to the next plan."

My business plan didn't have any "errors." In fact, my business plan didn't even have words. My business plan was actually just a stick-figure doodle of myself holding fistfuls of cash and smiling. I gave it to my mother to think over.

"Nothing peeves investors more than inconsistent margins, missing page numbers, charts without labels or with incorrect units, tables without headings, technical terminology without definitions or a missing table of contents," Clarke adds.

My business plan might have been missing a few key components upon reflection, seeing as, at the time, I thought margins were a substitute for butter that I could eat off of a table of contents.

Clearly, my business plan was a failure. I did everything wrong. Learn from my mistakes.

But because my investors were also my parents (and it would've been a long weekend if they hadn't approved), they gave me the thumbs up and wanted a name for the restaurant.

So I sat in my "thinking tree" and wrote it off as a business expense. Or I would have anyway, if anybody told me I was supposed to at the time. Let's say I wrote it off as..."Saturday."

But even after a bag of Goldfish crackers and a day of tree-climbing, I didn't have what I wanted. I still needed a name for this restaurant extravaganza.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: No, that is not me in the picture. There is no way that I was this clean and professional at 6. I was the kid in the class who somehow got ice cream on his forehead during snack time. Also, I didn't wear my first suit until junior high. I think I was wearing bright orange shorts and a shark hat when I sat in my "thinking tree." However, this kid (with his sly confidence and charming haircut) stands as a good metaphor for how seriously I took my restaurant idea. In first grade, I really was an entrepreneur. Maybe not in my wardrobe, but certainly in my attitude and work ethic. I did have a briefcase though. I filled it with candy and action figures.

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part I - Starting Out)

Why My First Business Succeeded (Part I - Starting Out)
By: Jake Kilroy | October 16, 2008 4:33 PM

I was an entrepreneur in my younger years. Yes, it's true. Sure, I'm a blogger now. Sure, you could say that I did the whole thing backwards, I suppose. But I was a businessman once.

Long ago, I was very much the creative type: I painted, I danced, I wrote songs. But I still wanted to run a business. My friends didn't understand. My teachers kind of understood. My family understood, but didn't know how to help me.

I originally wanted to turn my house into a drive-thru. My father called the city planner (supposedly) and it was a no-go. There were apparently some residential vs. commercial zoning laws I was spectacularly unaware of. I cried about it the whole day. I mean seriously cried. I'm talking goose-stomping and locking myself in my room.

Come on though, I just wanted to start a business.

Oh...did I not mention that I was 6?

Ok, well, anyway, I was 6 years old and my father was crushing my dreams.

"No, I'm sorry, Jake, we can't turn the van into an ice cream truck," he once told me, even after I explained the logistics of him driving around and my mom buying all of the supplies at the grocery store. I thought my father would be in for it. It meant that he could quit his job and just work local neighborhoods with me.

"What about a restaurant?" I asked my mother.

"Well, how are you going to do that?" she replied.

I sighed, before snapping my fingers and running off. I grabbed my magic markers and started work on my first business plan.

And thus began the adventure of me (pictured in the bow-tie below, posing with two employees) starting my first business.

The Illness of Being Sick

I'd say that any time that a man grows ill in a single day, he has to wonder if it's just his body is in the middle of combat or if his body has finally given up on him altogether because of his diet and lifestyle.

Bury Me Under The Scarecrow

a classic rock poem by jake kilroy.

Bury me under the scarecrow,
a lofty tombstone to serve a purpose,
able to still spend a sunny afternoon well;
plenty of corn, plenty of water,
plenty of kids to lay around barefoot;
getting high every day,
getting drunk every night;
their cars parked off the dirt road,
their fingers finding faith in maps,
their hearts ignoring any truth,
their souls restless and ruthless;
all with a stereo that plays psychedelic,
all with a smile that tastes psychedelic,
and me, just a scarecrow, always part of the gang.

"Bury Me Under The Scarecrow"

"Bury Me Under The Scarecrow"
a classic rock poem by jake kilroy.

Bury me under the scarecrow,
a lofty tombstone to serve a purpose,
able to still spend a sunny afternoon well;
plenty of corn, plenty of water,
plenty of kids to lay around barefoot;
getting high every day,
getting drunk every night;
their cars parked off the dirt road,
their fingers finding faith in maps,
their hearts ignoring any truth,
their souls restless and ruthless;
all with a stereo that plays psychedelic,
all with a smile that tastes psychedelic,
and me, just a scarecrow, always part of the gang.

If you're not creating, you're destroying

I figure one thing. If you're not creating, you're destroying. If you're not making art, you're critiquing it. If you're not running in the revolution, you're watching it. And that's destructive to any rebellion. You either train yourself to be magnificent or train yourself to watch those who are. Sure, this may just be me rambling nonsense, but I hold a serious problem of having money and not using it to travel or drink myself to death. If I'm not writing, at least I'd have an interesting bar tab for someone to explain in my eulogy.

Ok, ok, ok, I'm gonna earn a living now.

The Ruins of Jake Kilroy

Wednesday, October 8, 2008, will always be the day I failed.

Just over a week in, and I didn't write in it yesterday.

I slept all day talking.

The Last Theater / An Old Friend

written dizzy by jake kilroy.
Originally written August 26, 2008.

And the rockets fell on the cineplex,
while you were dazzling your wall;
scraping your beloved instruments,
and melting them down to nothing at all;
paralleling the paralyzing dizzy spell,
that you struck up in one twirling stir;
some night when you wrestled restless,
straggling around in some lazy purr.

And the movies flickered on the bombs,
colors dissolving into the army code;
you stayed in your robe, a bottle deep,
wasting the stars in the new motherload;
your weekend song loud in white shirts,
without dress shoes and good coats;
a new binge that you found ruined inside,
as with all that sparkles new and floats.

And the popcorn machines caught fire,
while you were at home writing the wreck;
digging the graves of the dead skin print,
storing your papers in a stiff card deck;
your body ached in the spiraling wind,
as the windows banged and you lost time;
for weeks it'd been bad to be of regret,
the rickety porch harrowed an old chime.

And the locals watched the theater collapse,
the last ash finding solace on a pretty face;
violins could be heard, coughing was faint,
they kept their eyes closed, keeping pace;
as poetry's a market of writers burning alive,
the entire town sitting down to lose their grip;
with no last stand to keep a good man up,
and no strength in his mouth to prevent a slip.

And the smoke glowed like a black rose,
nobody slept well that night, all rusty and rusted;
swinging fingers down like the gold rush dig,
marching their bodies, a final parade lusted;
but the town was still there from the old valley fair,
but the sound was still there from the old valley fair,
one more hand on the wall to pray,
one more band in the hall to play.

Whiskey, Cigarettes & Love Letters

Somewhat of an extended version of Goodie Drawers.

I remember a particularly late summer night when I was 21 and out drinking with some female friends. They were talking about their "goodie drawers" and how sometimes the wrong people had seen the contents. I didn't have much to offer, so I just sat there listening and sipping my pint. The girls shared some funny stories about their goodie drawers and the items tucked away inside: vibrators, lube, condoms, sex toys, et cetera.

I chuckled to myself, and one of the girls gave me a sly smile before asking, "Why? What's in your goodie drawer, Jake?"I grinned, thought about my response, and replied, "Whiskey, cigarettes and love letters."

There was a long pause at the table.

It was true. Whiskey, cigarettes and love letters were all I kept in my night stand for a long while. But these three items are also my balance beam, still remaining as the three key components to the best/worst possible night in my opinion.And that may just be what all goodie drawers really are anyway: the fork in the road when you decide to go north or south.

But that sort of traveling wears out a lifetime on the soul, when what we love can kill us and what we hate can have a sleeping spot in our prettiest dreams. I mean, who wasn't been a wayward traveler some nights?

Remember that a condom can lead to fun, but could surely follow with bad morning revelations and photographs of exes can lead to nostalgia but could surely end in bad evening revelations.

Just for the record though, this isn't the same speech that you've heard from forlorn lovers, where they say that their counterpart could make or break them. This isn't the part of the passage where you realize that we're all _________________________ (insert overused metaphor here).

I'm saying that we each have these things that can make for the worst evening we've ever put our eyes and hands through while remaining our favorite possessions. We keep what's dearest in the drawer next to us so that we keep what's closest to us closest. I'm talking about medication that your doctor doesn't know you prescribe yourself.

I spent a summer well when I was 20 (bike-riding during the day and partying at night). But I recall my best evenings to be spent with a Chet Baker record moving slowly while I had a cigarette or two with Jack Daniels on my back porch, looking over handwritten love letters. And I recall my worst evenings being spent the same way. Same ingredients, same recipe, different hunger.

There's poetry in the swift movement of pretty butterflies with prettier chainsaws. I suppose that I consider self-destruction and self-loathing to be cyclical, as I've always wanted to believe that you can do so bad that you've done good. And I find the balance beam walkers of glory and danger to be extraordinary and magnificent.

So, of course, I've always been attracted to the broken writer ego (one day, they'll cry for you beyond an education, Fitzgerald) where you imagine the writer slumped over at his desk and you don't know if it's from exhaustion or drugs, where you feel the writer's agonizing blood in the words, where the writer pens the book on morals on Saturday but sleeps through church on Sunday because of a hangover.

You want their epitaph to read like so: "Here lies that famous writer you were taught so eloquently in school. The only thing he did better than write was drink and here lies the evidence. The words and women didn't kill him. Wild, ain't it?"

It's that balance beam walk that grips us.

You just have to look over what you keep closest to you, know what's capable of making and breaking you, as every kitchen knife can help you cook dinner or can go straight through your chest (Cheers, Elliott Smith).

Now ask yourself: what's in your goodie drawer?

Draft Dodger

I suppose a draft dodger only drank out of bottles and cans...you know, if he were ironic enough.

Homewrecker

A homewrecker is two entirely different things and I suppose the big difference is the amount of metaphors involved.

Let It Burn

Maybe if you set fire to everything you believe in, you can huff the smoke and get high off nostalgia.

Goodie Drawers

I remember a particularly late summer night when I was 21 and out drinking with some female friends. They were talking about their "goodie drawers" and how sometimes the wrong people had seen the contents. I didn't have much to offer, so I just sat there listening and sipping my pint. The girls shared some funny stories about their goodie drawers and the items tucked away inside: vibrators, lube, condoms, sex toys, et cetera.

I chuckled to myself, and one of the girls gave me a sly smile before asking, "Why? What's in your goodie drawer, Jake?"

I grinned, thought about my response, and replied, "Whiskey, cigarettes and love letters."

There was a long pause at the table.

It was true though. Whiskey, cigarettes and love letters were all I kept in my night stand for a long while. But these three items are also my balance beam, still remaining as the three key components to the best/worst possible night in my opinion.

And maybe that's all goodie drawers really are: the fork in the road when you decide to go north or south.

Medieval (Me Devil)

by Jake Kilroy
Originally written September 21, 2007.

What shall we call this?

The Pompous Poet Lounges Around Loudly Once Again In The Streets
(Or, "What Graces A Young Women To Dance Sin In The Wake Of A Public Speaker")
(Or, "The Cobblestone Address Of Confidence And Beauty")
(Or, "What Renaissance? I Thought You Were All Here To Love Me")
(Or, "When Careless And Dashing, Always Love Heroically")
(Or, "Speak Before Spoken To And You'll Always Have Women")
(Or, "The Evening Speech Of The Arrogant Writer Near The Lake At Sunset")

Hear ye, kings and mighty swordsmen!
Hear ye, leaders and courageous soldiers!
Hear ye, queens and slender women!
Hear ye, bad saints and good sinners!
Hear me, chumps and chumpettes!

I swallowed fire to impress all of the audience that gathered fair at the renaissance!
We had to dress up kindly and spark with manners,
as we traveled to a where, not a when.
I saw the push of the shove as her tush I came to love,
and I rhymed myself straight into her bed and right out of her heart.
In one holy place and out the other I am.

I've set fire to kingdoms and I've set foot in churches!
But I've never wrestled a beauty such as you.
The beat talker, no street walker, is she (I pray, and I hope, well-wishers),
but us hapless rogues (snarky and sharky), (whimsical and cunning),
(brutal and bare), (shape-shifting and flesh-kissing),
we're still the leading reason they invented handcuffs.
And I've never been a criminal for crime.
But subliminal for time, or rub slims sinful for rhymes.

Well, you ladies with fans and you fans of ladies,
hear me like the cannon that may be my doom!
I'm the smartest court jester that you've ever seen dance a jig,
and I can swindle your clothes, your cards and your coins,
before you even knew you loved me.
Ah, fair games are only in afternoon lounges it seems!

I live over yonder, out where the trees sigh with content,
the youths swim nude and the lake water has no weeds.
Visit me! I have no barren soul (or any real character to speak of, just tongue).
I've been an empty birdcage full of words since I last loved,
and since I last loved, I've evolved,
much like the jackrabbit (fast and sweet, I tell you).
I'll lay you tender and I'll lay you cold.
By the end, I'll leave your eternity old.
You'll have learned from loving I,
and I'll stay with you until your chest is red with warmth.
Battlegrounds? I should say not!
I couldn't hold any weapon greater than a pen!

So ink your skulls! And spill paint onto your lovers!
We dine on the most sinful of feasts tonight,
but only after the dimmest of lamps in the street blow out their candles,
just like you'll be doing in the new waking eve of heavy breathing.
March, young squadrons of bedroom soldiers!
For I have a declaration and I don't want a king here!
Whispers are the only communication us poets have.
They'll kill us otherwise.
But I've always been that other wise.

Charming hearts and loosening bosom tops are charity work in my efforts!
I hereby declare that I'll also be swearing until dawn
that I saw whatever mystical creature you wanted to exist and named it too!
So piss off, young dreamers and schemers and feverish crashes!
I have done all there is to be done in this era, that is this day and this age!
And your loves sin from dusk until dawn,
while I leave these troops of stretching women!
Wives have left their husbands! Queens have deserted their kings!
And I have left my floor before!
But nevermore am I a humble worker in this town, quiet and without muse!
I am as reckless as I am planned, and I'm as glorious as I am damned!
Drinkers are the only sinners that don't make mistakes.

Powerful rogues! This goes on! I continue! And I apologize for it!
But once you have a fair audience, why stop?
Burn your bottoms and cut off your tops!
The only war we have is with ourselves!
How long have you been fighting? Will you go on? Are you done?
Have you felt your last human being who wasn't you?

Shackles! Prisoners of love! Prisoners of war! Nobody is at home near the fire!
The giggling you hear at night is not you! It belongs to your lover.
You've slept right through the excitement while she slept right through me!
Yes, constables and squires, I loved your maidens and they loved me!
I assure you that I loved them better than they could ever hope to sin,
like steam in courtyards.
Beautiful, tender, wild (never mild in my throws),
careless with laugher. Sweet, loud laugher/(explicit).
Look into it while you chase me on the cobblestones!
I'll look to you as I hobble you with words, gentlemen.
Tomorrow evening, I expect us to have drinks!
Because the only thing I'm better at manipulating than your maidens is your language.

The prettiest skies are our faintest light and our darkest hour is upon us!
You see, I wrote this in five minutes and it's best left for the eaters of squalor who holler
for fights at night when they rhyme so right.
But me, I'm making this up as I go!
I saw a girl in cowboy boots and I felt inspired.
You don't know cowgirls, you say?
Well, I couldn't even tell you what this poem was really in regards to anyway.

But I'll continue to stand in the public square,
maybe to refine this one day!
Or night.

For now though, I have a date with Destiny!
And she's alone until he comes home.

I'm off!

The Cobblestone Address (Part II)

This should be a collection of writing, a stunning museum of what I've left to the world.

Something I can refer to in conversation.
Something I can build with inspiration.
Something I can drink to in desperation.
Something I can toast to in celebration.

The name "The Cobblestone Address" is taken from something I wrote a little over a year ago, which I will post momentarily, though the actual subject matter has nothing to do with whatever this now has become. The phrase "The Cobblestone Address" is from a poem I wrote furiously in a ten minute break from studying for a midterm in my law class during my last year of college.

And that's what The Cobblestone Address should always be: something furious in between learning and teaching.

Here we go.

The Cobblestone Address

This is The Cobblestone Address.

And I have no idea what I'm doing.