Tag Archives: mash-up

Mina Loy versus the message board of 2006

“LOVE of others is the appreciation of one’s self. MAY your egotism be so gigantic that you comprise mankind in your self-sympathy.”
Mina Loy

 

 

01-25-2006, 01:00 PM

Argent Towers

Guest

  Join Date: Jun 2005

Mina Loy: self-indulgent masturbatory cunt of a “poet”


I’m sitting in my girlfriend’s room as she reads aloud a ten-page “poem” by a clearly schizophrenic woman named Mina Loy. She claims she needs to read poems out loud to understand them.

I wouldn’t have a problem with that but this is no poem, it is an unending STREAM OF GIBBERISH. I can’t stand retarted, pretentious “modernist” poets who think that all the horseshit that was racing through their drug/syphillis-addled brains was clever or deep. It’s not poetry, it’s SHIT.

 

 

 

01-25-2006, 01:37 PM

Justin_Bailey

Guest

  Join Date: Mar 2003

A friend of mine gave me some poetry to read that she wrote when we were both back in high school. It was a seriously disturbing description of the tar and crap coating a smoker’s lungs and how it makes them sicker and sicker. It was actually pretty good and I complemented her on it.

Her response?

She called me an idiot, told me the poem was really about how her tortured soul was too pure for this world and then went on some idiotic diatribe about how tough her life was. (Trust me. Her life was cake and her “tortured soul” was so much attention whoring)

So to this day I got nothing against poetry, it’s the poets that I can’t stand. 99% of them are twits.

__________________
signature under construction

 

 

01-25-2006, 02:43 PM

Ogre

Guest

  Join Date: Jul 2000

Quote:

(On the subject, and for anyone who doesn’t know the works of Philip Larkin, this is how to write proper angst.)

Or Charles Bukowski. He’d chew these posers up, and then go have a drink.

http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?t=355800

 

 

Let’s have a response and recount of the ‘straightdope’ board (William Carlos Williams’s view upon request).

 

 

 

“Interestingly, Loy narrates the same night, at the Arensbergs’, quite differently.”

17

One night King Dada [Duchamp] and Colossus [Cravan] lolled about a divan in Walter’s [Arensberg] parlor, engaged in the privileged male sport of the evening which consisted of drawing their forefingers along the green stockings of the blond Countess stretched among the cushions. Every now and then a man would rise, giving his place to another. Colossus had been occupied with one leg for ages, and when he had had enough, he came and laid on the floor beside me, tilting the brim of my hat onto the tip of my nose to cover my eyes — so as to hide from them the approval in his.
“Don’t have him,” urged Carlos [Williams], joining us. “You will only find yourself in a ridiculous situation. All these pugilists are bunglers in bed. I’m off,” said the Doctor, kissing me good night. “You’re all so damned sophisticated, I might as well be deaf and dumb.” [21]

http://jacketmagazine.com/34/parmar-loy.shtml


Two poems by Brad Vogler

Mon Feb 8 04:47:13 2010

 

I went to sudbury fight. Like a company

 

I am going to interject right now and say that in my dream Brad thinks I am Dennis Hopper in ‘Apocalypse Now.’ You know, my regular personality? and that may be true, but we should have spent a lot more time focusing on Dennis Hopper when we were writing our book. Also, if Brad is going to be in my dreams, he better be naked.

 

I’m gonna go ahead and say I’m having a really good day and that I love everyone.  Especially brad.  And brad’s naked beard.

 

Do you remember when I had ALL of Brad’s sweatpants? AT ONCE! And when he put on my jeans? I learned so much about poetry that year.

 

I think we all did. 

 

of indians were got near home, and hoped for their

music. Being called to answer to this

narrative, says he, tho offering to shew

in a manner at an end, so that perhaps there are

many things which they had not power to stir

hand or foot, which was a delusion, and than

that moment to end my own miserable

life. A severe and proud dame she was under a false

notion of fascination by the court a

wonderful compulsion in it; what with the first

label removed, under many trials

 

I think Cotton was OCD and worried about VD even though he didn’t know about VD. I think Cotton got the indigenous peoples all mixed up with his OCD and VD fears.

 

That’s an interesting theory.  Yesterday for some reason I told my mom I had to get an STD test and she asked me why and said, “that’s how people date now” and she said, “so you’re dating?” and then I just pretended I was David Caruso for like 15 minutes.

 

I am really proud of you! Did you have sunglasses? Did you have a one-liner?

 

Of course!  Except that my sunglasses have that wrap-around thing going on so it wasn’t quite as smooth as I would have like it to be. Mostly I just ended everything I said with “…’Til now.”

 

and afflictions, whose games are mighty kingdoms?

After the enemy is manifest.

 

 

Texts:

Cotton M, Cotton

Mary Rowlandson, Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson

 

 

 

 

 

Sat Nov 13 13:06:14 2010

 

And in the animal. I think I will study

it, always fresh, always at the time that has brought, and

not rise, as it went closer. The thoughts of all

the company round him in his first

pastoral, tho tis so very cold,

the raven can go on. I had rather wince

 

What if I took Brad’s poetry, switched the line order, and mailed it to him as my own, with a wedding invitation? With my name and his name as the people getting married. Would that freak him out?

 

I can’t imagine that would freak him out any more than the life-size cardboard stand-up of him you keep in your bathroom. 

 

That cardboard cut-out listens to me when I am sobbing in the bathtub while eating Chips Ahoy!

 

Um… so does the real Brad.

 

than die. He had unhappily

reflected on that simpler line

of this class there is immortality, who works and

buys, is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed in

the little mistake, and when, either with the

definitive collapse of the company of sheep

torn by wolves, all and several become wealthy by

 

Do you have any idea how obsessed I was with Jack London? How I wanted to move to the Yukon to get stranded and have a pack of wolves live with me? Do you realize what Kevin Costner did to my imagery by having an 8 hour movie where he shits on everything? Did I spell his last name right?

 

Kevin Costner is an incredibly tan man, you know?  But I appreciate that his head has not spread in a John Travolta / Leo DiCaprio way. 

Oh man… I want Brad to rap this on his next album. I will buy him a new bike helmet if he does.

 

He is tan. He would fit in with the girls here. But. He appropriates. I hate him. I wish his face would spread.

 

trading at the revelations.

 

Texts:

Emily Dickinson, Dickinson-Higginson Letters

Mary Rowlandson, Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson

Gray, Natures Miracles

Holbrook, Book of Nature Myths

Purney, Full Enquiry into Pastoral

Unknown, Nature of Peace

 

 


Angry Tumblr post mash-up with Gary Wright, Kansas, Boston, Chicago, and Journey.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what it means for white people to Climb aboard the dream weaver train…which really means I’ve been thinking a lot about why it is that white people generally refuse to accept that they may not be welcome in certain environments.

Growing up as a PoC, especially a PoC who gets coded as Black/African American, you learn VERY quickly that some spaces have never been and will likely never be welcoming to you. And I’m going to take this moment to point out that I believe you can get me through the night being ushered into certain spaces with open arms and It’s more than a feeling
(More than a feeling), both produce the same effect: systematic exclusion of PoC, particularly from positions of power.
You learn very quickly that political office, executive positions in large (read: rich) corporations, serious/multi-faceted acting roles, And dream of a girl I used to know
I closed my eyes and she slipped away and societal positions are almost exclusively designated for white people. The fact that a select handful of PoC can sometimes break into these positions does little to change the overwhelming message that these arenas are not FOR us. Moreover, what does this faux ~diversity~ really mean when the few PoC who are allowed to hold these roles are invariably met with All we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind?

Therein lies the difference between white and PoC responses to exclusion: whereas PoC have been told every day of our lives that there are some things we are simply not allowed to achieve/access/want/do/perform/join, white people do not have a socially created/reinforced barrier to anything. (I swear to God if you are a white woman, white queer person, or any other kind of marginalized white person reading this and you even THINK about derailing to make this post about sexism or homophobia or whatever else, I will happily dropkick you from You’re the meaning in my life You’re the inspiration You bring feeling to my life You’re the inspiration

to the intellectually and emotionally vacuous pit from which you came).

This is why white people respond so negatively to being told they can’t do something—whether it’s “celebrating” Holi or wearing “Indian” headdresses or something as simple as coming to a meeting put on by Black people who may not want white people there. When there is no social precedent for systematic exclusion based on denigrating whiteness, the idea that someone might actually NOT want white people around is Always on my mind
you’re in my heart
in my soul.
You’re the meaning in my life. you’re the inspiration. . . ..

And I can’t think of anything more indicative of white privilege than the idea that their presence not being wanted is a foreign concept to them—even after countless Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night all initiated and perpetuated by white people to decimate PoC and our land, y’all still can’t understand that Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on.

 

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what it means for white people to understand/accept that there are some spaces that are simply not for them…which really means I’ve been thinking a lot about why it is that white people generally refuse to accept that they may not be welcome in certain environments.

Growing up as a PoC, especially a PoC who gets coded as Black/African American, you learn VERY quickly that some spaces have never been and will likely never be welcoming to you. And I’m going to take this moment to point out that while there is certainly a difference between simply not being ushered into certain spaces with open arms and being explicitly barred from them, both produce the same effect: systematic exclusion of PoC, particularly from positions of power.
You learn very quickly that political office, executive positions in large (read: rich) corporations, serious/multi-faceted acting roles, and any number of well-respected occupations and societal positions are almost exclusively designated for white people. The fact that a select handful of PoC can sometimes break into these positions does little to change the overwhelming message that these arenas are not FOR us. Moreover, what does this faux ~diversity~ really mean when the few PoC who are allowed to hold these roles are invariably met with both “subtle” and blatant racism within their respective fields?

Therein lies the difference between white and PoC responses to exclusion: whereas PoC have been told every day of our lives that there are some things we are simply not allowed to achieve/access/want/do/perform/join, white people do not have a socially created/reinforced barrier to anything. (I swear to God if you are a white woman, white queer person, or any other kind of marginalized white person reading this and you even THINK about derailing to make this post about sexism or homophobia or whatever else, I will happily dropkick you from here to the intellectually and emotionally vacuous pit from which you came).

This is why white people respond so negatively to being told they can’t do something—whether it’s “celebrating” Holi or wearing “Indian” headdresses or something as simple as coming to a meeting put on by Black people who may not want white people there. When there is no social precedent for systematic exclusion based on denigrating whiteness, the idea that someone might actually NOT want white people around is truly baffling to them.

And I can’t think of anything more indicative of white privilege than the idea that their presence not being wanted is a foreign concept to them—even after countless wars, massacres, riots, and genocides all initiated and perpetuated by white people to decimate PoC and our land, y’all still can’t understand that sometimes we just don’t fucking want you around.

I’m just riding the peace train guys, being followed by a moon shadow, you know? My inbox is filled with angry 19 year old rage: threatening my life over the internet. I’m in it for the music, man.


This potential movie is all symbolism for what happens when a lighter runs out of fluid.

This Is Major Tom To Ground Control

 

 

Cast:

Major Tom–Dan Bailey

Ground Control–Crane Giamo

 

Scene 1.

open with Ground Control.  in a boiler room warehouse basement.

 

The boiler room was the only place Jordan Catalano would take Angela.

 

Who?

 

Jared Leto? “My So-Called Life?” Rayanne told Angela she was “not ready for the boiler room.” I just want to know where all these high schools get boiler rooms for kids to do illicit things. We just had the parking lot.

 

we didn’t have a boiler room.  but we must have had some kind of storage area because we had these dead cats for anatomy class.  like in boxes.  i don’t think I would’ve taken a girl to the dead-cat-storage area though.  even if she was a goth.

 

 

industrial, dark, sterile, pipes.  Ground Control wears a suit a tie a gas mask.  at a desk with an outdated monitor.  dot matrix paper.  works aimlessly.  departs room.  misses the red blinking light on the telephone indicating that Major Tom has attempted to connect with Ground Control from outer space [filmed in black and white, otherwise silent, maybe a boiler room type drone]

 

I get the feeling Major Tom is needy. At first, I read that as Major Torn – and I thought we were going to get to read erotica.

 

Oh man we should do some erotica up in here.  if I was gonna write an erotical piece I would have the main character be called “captain hipster beard”.  He would drive a chevy nova and have a band called Meet My Moustache.

 

Scene 2.

camera close up on a photograph of planet earth taken from outer space.  camera shakes violently to give the impression that the earth is having an epileptic seizure.  all at once the shaking stops.  then dark.  then there is some noise music.  music stops.  stops in sync with the visual. [color comes in, tarkovsky like]

 

Is this a National Geographic type photo of the Earth?

 

I think it should be a kid’s drawing of Earth.

 

I think it should just be Will Smith in “Independence Day” punching an alien on a loop.

 

I tried to watch “I-Robot” last night but the dvd was all fucked up. I did get to see will smith in the shower because for some reason his character didn’t have a shower curtain.  Like maybe in the future they don’t use shower curtains.  But I think they might have to… even in 2035 people are still gonna have downstairs neighbors. 

That’s a really good name for a chapbook.  “Even in 2035 People Still Have Downstairs Neighbors”.

 

Scene 3.

very slow fade in from deep space to Major Tom walking through sand dunes [now in black and white, panoramic shot]

 

I bet Major Torn is all sex appeal. Major Torn is all oily and greased up and sand clings to his skin, but never touches his face.

 

I didn’t really see him shirtless… way to go, hetero.

 

Scene 4.

hitchhiking [still black and white]

 

Last time I picked up hitchhikers… they were trying to get to a Phish concert. I’ve never felt more threatened in my life.

 

They should make more movies about hitchhikers.  They should make a musical about hitchhikers.  Wait I think that’s the plot of “Hair”. 

 

I think this play is really romantic. 

 

Scene 5.

scenes of the horizon, agriculture, fields, wind turbines, foothills, mountains, cows, hawks on fences, wilted flowers, creeks, railroads

 

Why are the flowers wilted? Is it hot? Everything else seems to exist as it, right? But the flowers are suffering. Is this a political ad?

 

See now I am kind of picturing Major Torn as played by Al Gore… and thanks to you he’s shirtless.  So shit’s getting weird in my headspace.

 

No! He is wearing a camo vest without a shirt. Like in 80’s movies. I can’t even believe you brought up Al Gore.

 

Scene 6.

a bathtub in a field.  underwater in an ice bath [overhead shot, close up of Major Tom’s submerged face with a calm expression].  wooden desk upon which are a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.  Major Tom reaches for the cigarettes.  lights one.  [having second thoughts on the cigarette might seem too rockstar.  okay what about a stogie or a popsicle?  ice cream cone?]

 

If the Major can smoke or eat while submerged in a bathtub, he has my vote for president. I can’t even get cigarettes to stay lit when it is raining outside.

 

Al Gore would not smoke in a field.  But I think he’d totally eat a Popsicle in a bathtub. While listening to Adele. 

 

You mean Brenda Carlisle.

 

It’s Brandi Carlile. And, yes, al gore would listen to brandi carlile in the bathtub.

 

 

 

Scene 7.

at a payphone at a highway rest stop.  lover recently deceased [flash to tombstone?  other ways to convey this death? we need to buy plastic body bags]

 

You know how movies always have that deep voice over during the trailer? This movie’s voice over should just say, “We need to buy plastic body bags” on repeat while random scenes flash. The trailer should be longer than the movie.

 

I couldn’t agree more.  Maybe we should make trailers.  I’ve actually always wanted to make trailers. 

 

You know how trailers these days cut into rapid-sequence scenes with like one huge word… like (field) “WE” (tub faucet) “NEED” (outer space) “PLASTIC” (random wet alien face) “BODYBAGS” (explosion) “in theaters summer 2012”. 

 

Do you think these guys will let us make their trailer?

 

If I present myself as the ginger from CSI Miami and do a stare down? With sunglasses? They will.

 

Scene 8.

home is an abandoned, whitewashed trailer.  walks to a spot above the river where Ground Control will later burn Major Tom’s silver suit in a fire]

 

Offended by the white trash trailer.

 

Home really is an abandoned white trash trailer. If you think about it.

 

Scene 9.

atm [dusk]

 

Offended by lack of funds.

 

You know what I hate?  When people say “ATM machine.”  That’s just stupid.

 

Scene 10.

buying a shovel and rope [still dusk]

 

Dusk never lasts long: they must be in the desert. Go check that shit, make sure they are in the desert.

 

Pretty sure they’re in Kansas.

 

Great great great great band. Almost as good as that Mustache band you mentioned which doesn’t exist.

 

Yet.

 

Scene 11.

mexican dive bar.  live band.  stobelights.  empty dance floor

 

Do you remember that bar in Fort Collins which was exactly like this? And they charged about seventeen dollars for a Corona?

 

They had dog bowls instead of ashtrays.  But they also has a kickin mariachi band and they really wanted us to come back for karaoke.  Well… I don’t think the bartender wanted us to come back for karaoke.  Or the old guys at the other end of the bar. 

 

Scene 12.

walking down the road with a shovel and rope [then night, watching stars, satellites]

 

See? Desert. Not Kansas. I totally did this while living in Nevada, except I was watching for police.

 

It’s actually always been a dream of mine to walk around the desert of Nevada carrying a shovel and a rope and a child’s drawing of the earth.

 

 

Scene 13.

graveyard.  the grave of the deceased lover.  simple unmarked tombstone

 

Tombstones are really expensive. Each letter? I want my tombstone to read SIMPLE UNMARKED TOMBSTONE.

 

I want my tombstone to say “we need to talk.”

 

Scene 14

first failed suicide attempt.  hangs the rope from a tree limb directly above the tombstone.  stands on the unmarked tombstone and ties a noose.  shifts feet from beneath the tombstone.  falls.  cuts to a body bag act of necrophilia in the grave

 

The torn Major falls into an orifice? That’s what I say when I “accidentally” fondle someone under a table: “This is my first failed suicide attempt.”

 

I tried that on a bus.  Black eye.  That’s all I’m gonna say.

 

Scene 15

departing the graveyard.  “the world is perfect the way it is”

 

Necrophilia releases endorphins and makes you want to live, you know?

 

I don’t get necrophilia.  It just seems really clammy.  Like actually clammy. 

 

Scene 16

[now light is arriving] a church pew.  an empty church.  go to the bathroom to shave.

do a haircut.  brush and floss.

 

If it is a dry shave = suicidal again = watch the movie ‘Predator’ to understand this.

 

That’s a really great place to do that.  You know how most movies show some guy who’s probably Harrison ford cutting his hair in a nasty gas station bathroom?  I just never understood why it had to be a nasty gas station bathroom.  And also whenever I go into nasty gas station bathrooms I always check for hair dye now. You know… for fugitives.

 

Scene 17.

alleyway.  a stray dog.  “love what you can”

 

At some point Al Gore is going to have to decide between necrophilia and bestiality.

 

I bet he lectures the dog and then gives it a flower.  That’s how Al rolls.  And that’s why I voted for him. Twice.

 

Scene 18.

walking

 

Way to rub salt in the wound of every paraplegic. And paralegal.

 

This is exactly what my calendar says.  “Walking: Moderate. 35 minutes.” I’m trying to work up to running without blowing out my knee (like some people) (who are you).

 

Scene 19.

second failed suicide attempt.  mid-morning at a dumpster.  a canister of antifreeze.  consume it and vomit.  fall asleep.

 

I knew this dude who threatened to kill stray cats with antifreeze. I called his mom.

 

I love the word “canister” but I want it to be “canister of biscuits” because that would be a great suicide attempt.  Only I mean british biscuits.  Like cookies.  Not southern biscuits, which would actually kill you.

 

Scene 20.

a dream.  underwater human birth with dolphins.  a rocket launch

 

Antifreeze makes really wonderful things happen. So does suicide attempts. I understand Sylvia Plath.

 

Here’s the thing… there’s been a lot of underwater human birth imagery this year.  I’ve drawn a lot of weird underwater human birth illustrations this year.  So I see a pattern here.

 

Scene 21.

[here we need an ending]

 

This should have been the ending to every comic book / superhero – turned movie. ever. made.

 

This is how all my fiction ends.  Sometimes I also write “god stop writing fiction, stupid.” 


Poem from a manly man

Zach has a book coming out by the way: http://deletepress.org/

A bug flew into my coffee and I just woke up.

———- Forwarded message ———-
From: Zach Keebaugh
Date: Tue, Sep 23, 2008 at 2:56 AM
Subject: dearest gila
To: gila

the poem, hitherto untitled, may henceforth be referenced by those first stark words:  “dearest gila.”  it continues, “hey it’s zach.  we had a brief correspondence on myspace a while ago.  i really liked it; it was charming and no one had to explain any jokes.  sorry if it’s annoying that i’m writing almost this entire thing in quotation marks.  obviously an explanation is due; the truth is i enjoy inscribing my voice in some ‘other’ mode of communicating.  i’m actually too tired to do this right now; so i will resign myself to speaking through the ‘reduced authentic’ voice — but not without putting it into quotation marks.  of course they (the upside-down semi-colons or whatever) are also a defense mechanism, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a bad-ass party in here.  it’s like speaking through a fan underwater.  this email is just going to sit and fucking chill in these quotation marks.

i lost it at “bad-ass party” because i was thinking of a cartoon machine with sharp teeth for some reason.

I was wondering how often I use quotation marks, and I realized that whenever I am emailing a supervisor? I will start putting quotes around certain phrases to show I am being playful/sarcastic. Why would I do that with a supervisor? They don’t really like me anyway – especially here.

i’m one of those people who use air quotes.  that makes me a horrible person, actually.  i mean it would be less annoying if every time i was quoting something i just bit the person i was speaking to.

Biting people is a new pandemic. I have to go clean the green ooze out of my dog’s eyes (allergies).

i was just emailing somebody in virginia about your dog’s allergies.  i don’t know why i specified virginia.  that seems completely irrelevant.

Well, that is a completely irrelevant state. We need to go smoke and talk about what your “friend” said about my dog.

with those mermaids from ‘driving miss daisy’ fanning it and with jimmy buffet in the background but not ‘margaritaville’, the one about the cheeseburgers, ‘cheeseburger in paradise’, and all the wonders of the ocean are benign and at your mercy, like the eyes of the lobsters and crabs are all cartoony and the octopuses and squids all have minnie mouse eyelashes and all the things with eyes too scary to switch up, or would just be scary with any pair of eyes, and especially with no eyes, are just somewhere else waiting to be summoned in the ghostly improbable event of an attack.

Were mermaids in ‘Driving Miss Daisy?’ How did I miss that?! Was it because that movie was all, ‘Oh, racism is cool if you LOVE the African American driver, but you just never tell him.”

well morgan freeman is a kind of mermaid.  seriously.  he was in “robin hood: prince of thieves” with kevin costner who was a kind of fish-man in “waterworld”. ergo… mermaid.

Oh, okay, but mermaids are sticky for me. And not just from all the ejaculate, but because my mom would have me go in a room, put on ‘The Little Mermaid,’ and turn it up loud so I couldn’t hear her trying throwing plates in the kitchen. It is all trauma.

i just remember when ariel comes up out of the water at some point and there was an appalling lack of breast bounce.

I would have taken the kingdom, she wanted to be domestic and wear a wedding dress (kind of like ALL the people we know).

2.  what is your favorite thing?  this is a hard question to answer; however, i do know what my favorite thing is, but sometimes it just isn’t in the foreground of my consciousness, so sometimes i wouldn’t be able to answer this question as well.  in those cases, i would say “sleep” which is also what my father would say, and i honestly have no problem with that.  but definitely, my favorite thing is “charles fourier.”  so i would like to know what your favorite thing is and if you like charles fourier.

I mean, number 1 had to do with dolphins, but then I just thought about ‘Waterworld’ and yeah, you said he was a fish-man, but you’ve also pointed out his “gills” looked like vaginas behind his ears.

if you actually had vaginas behind your ears “earmuffs” would mean something entirely different.

So, I am now rethinking vagina ears, but I had to look up the name Fourier (because I don’t know anything) and I thought it had to do with frotteurism, but Wiki tells me he coined the term feminism. Okay, that’s a funny mix up, but how can a dude come up with feminism? But after reading about Fourier and frotteur-izing the couch… I think Charles was awesome.

Also, I would have appreciated a conversation like this in 2008, but not 2007, so I think timing is everything.

sex

the thing is… were i a young man… now is the time in my life when i would sport a prosperous beard.  and it would be irresistible.

I’m just looking at Zach and thinking of taking off that winter hat and going full “earmuff” on him.

 

 


She’s Popular So She Must Be Really Good (Maya Angelou)

A Plagued Journey

There is no warning rattle at the door
nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer boards.
Safe in the dark prison, I know that
light slides over
the fingered work of a toothless
woman in Pakistan.

I was really hoping for something inspiring after “the fingered work of a toothless”

here’s the thing… i can’t really focus after “slide” and “fingered” are placed in the same vicinity.  it’s a problem i have.

I didn’t even SEE ‘slides.” Do you remember ‘Slip n Slide?’ How they were supposed to be soooooo much fun and you put it on your lawn and get it all wet, and then run and jump to stream-jet down hill, but the thing is. Rocks. Stumps. And what happened was you’d jump on that cheap tarp and end up with all these bruises and scrapes and NEVER even reach the bottom of the “slide.”

it really didn’t help that the thing was like two feet long.

And two feet wide. So chubby kids REALLY got hurt. And this isn’t bullying, I’m talking about child abuse.

i was a chubby child.  so basically wearing a bathing suit in somebody’s backyard was emotionally scarring for me.  let alone throwing myself bodily onto a scrap of banana-yellow plastic.

I would have just sprayed you with the hose and told you to get up because it was my turn and you were screwing up my life.

and i would have cried.  because i was also a big crier. is that a word? “crier”?  it looks weird…

Jon Cryer was Ducky. ‘Pretty in Pink?’ I mean, I get that he was the underdog and you were supposed to love him because he danced to Otis Redding. But you had James Spader being the villain and that other pussy trying to convince Molly Ringwald that it was okay she made her own clothes.

i mean that was a really nice call.  that’s an astute observation / connection.

Well, I think a lot of people will say they were rooting for Ducky, but truly… James Spader is there? I call bullshit.

remember when i got all excited and texted you because there was a thriller on netflix starring james spader AS HIS OWN TWIN?  that was a really really great night.

No, but that’s probably because I was watching James Spader in ‘Tuff Turf.’

i know why the caged bird cries.

Ducky.

 

 


Inaugural Post – How Long Can We Read Billy Collins’s Fat Ass Before We Get Bored.

Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep A Gun In The House

The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house

I felt the title had promise because I thought it’d be about him wanting to die.

see, you actually read further than i did… because i was off after the first line.

I doubt he has neighbors. He is the type of person who you realize is living next to you and you are like, “Jesus Christ, I’d rather live in a town filled with undergraduates obsessed with football than next door to someone who makes the world a colorless hell.”

the dog’s twitching.  like… the real dog.

She has PTSD because her mom was shot by some fucking chicken farmers.

she’s really good looking for a stray, though.  she’s a fine mongrel.

That’s what they would say about me whenever I started a new school. I’d walk into this random high school and that was the whisper ripple throughout the student body. Or that may have been all the cocaine-fueled confidence.

that’s like my thing where i think everyone is flirting with me.  EVERYONE IS FLIRTING WITH ME. seriously.

I’d say half of those people were flirting. The rest had indigestion. Same looks, you know? You’re fighting this burning in your chest? So you have this look about you? It can often look flirtatious, when actually you had some rotten salsa.

i’d say half of those people were delivering my subs.

In some states, delivery men/women are really attractive. Not in this state, though.

was it Hot Wok that used to deliver using very attractive delivery personnel?  ha. i said “delivery personnel.”  that’s a fucking ridiculous thing to say.

I wouldn’t know because of potential allergic reactions to their food. So, thanks for leaving me out. You know you cannot order take-out with other people or I get territorial.

so…. i have completely forgotten the second line of this monumental piece of literature.

I’d like to imagine it had something to do with his nub-penis.