Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Failure
"I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."
- Michael Jordan
Sunday, September 15, 2013
If Hank was a Baller
There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him.
I say, stay in there,
I'm not going to let anybody see you.
There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I pour Red Bull on him and pop a few painkillers
and the bikini girls and the meatheads and the
crafty old-school vets never know that he's in there. There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him.
I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up?
you want to screw up the works?
you want to blow my programming gig? There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out on the beach sometimes,
when it's just the fellas.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be sad.
Then I put him back,
but he's singing a little in there.
I haven't quite let him die
and we sleep together like that
with our secret pact
and it's nice enough to make a man weep,
but I don't weep,
do you? - Original Poem by Charles Bukowski
but I'm too tough for him.
I say, stay in there,
I'm not going to let anybody see you.
There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I pour Red Bull on him and pop a few painkillers
and the bikini girls and the meatheads and the
crafty old-school vets never know that he's in there. There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him.
I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up?
you want to screw up the works?
you want to blow my programming gig? There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out on the beach sometimes,
when it's just the fellas.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be sad.
Then I put him back,
but he's singing a little in there.
I haven't quite let him die
and we sleep together like that
with our secret pact
and it's nice enough to make a man weep,
but I don't weep,
do you? - Original Poem by Charles Bukowski
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