so often my impressions of the city are through the noises i hear around me and that manage to wander up to whatever porch i'm sitting on.
i never see half the things i hear.
and i hear less than what i smell.
but i only really smell cigarettes right now.
i see cigarettes too. i could probably hear them if i tried.
but enough of smoking.
it happens sometimes. other times it doesn't happen.
but there's always a noise happening in the city.
i hear my roommates laughing inside.
i hear myself being too loud.
i hear people asking other people for beer, or for empty cans that used to have beer in them.
or bags rattling with lots of cans that used to have beer in them.
i hear a dog barking.
i hear crickets cricketing.
i hear nature and i hear man.
these are all sounds of life.
there's a sound of life happening in the weird house behind me.
a white lady i vaguely know is drunk and laughing really loudly.
or i'm guessing she's drunk from the time of night and how i usually see her back there.
i hope she's having a nice time.
i hear a couple on the street below me.
someone is wearing heavy shoes. and the guy says "riiiiiiight."
i hear the last buses for the day whistling into the station.
not too many people stand by the bus stop at this time of night.
but if it were earlier in the day i would hear them too.
once you're familiar enough with the sounds you can look at the city with your eyes closed.
i know that's a car not stopping long enough at the intersection of washtenaw and adams.
i hear another car going fast enough that it must be on hamilton.
i hear the last bus that was whistling moments ago make it's last trip out of ypsi.
it stops and beeps and lets more people on.
it gives a little fart and takes off again.
it turns right and i can hear this.
i hear myself tapping on the keyboard. my eyes are currently closed.
i can hear myself hitting the space bar.
and the enter key.
the other keys sound a little vague between eachother to know exactly which ones i'm hitting.
it feels quiet once you decide which noises are white noise:
crickets
lady laughing
cars
ambient buses leaving the station
when people walk by, or a noise comes from inside i see this as a distinct noise.
i get excited about them.
i'm capable of making so much noise in the city.
but it's a tuesday and i'm not feeling up for it.
most people aren't interested in hearing what noises i feel like giving off.
usually it's a mixture of george clinton, or abba, or my casio, or laughing too loudly.
it's a sign of being bored in my 20's with nothing else to do except be having fun on my porch.
a car is pulling up to my house...maybe it's for me? they turn off the car and i hear them open a door and they're stepping out. it sort of sounds like my friends.
but it's hard to hear because the white lady is laughing again, my roommate is talking about bottles, and yes it is for me. my friend just said hello to me.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Riki Tiki Speaks Words of Encouragement
if this feels sort of fractioned off, it's because it's intended to be part of a larger piece. I've started working on a series of things attempting to explain the character of Riki Tiki Tavi and what they represent and the issues they've been put into the world to fight.
This was a smaller part I was feeling fairly settled with so figured I'd toss it into the internet tumble-box of crap, y'know, a blog.
and if a bunch of this seems Kenneth Koch-y inspired - yup.
Riki Tiki Speaks Words of Encouragement
Sometimes I cough and fear that it’s blood. I know that it’s bullets.
(Now, where are you?)
I’m driving through Dearborn on accident and it’s 9/11.
It’s 9/12 and I’m drinking a cup of coffee.
It’s some point in August and I’m emptying out a golden locket in Ann Arbor that hands have touched.
I’m not crying.
I’m looking for Riki Tiki. From her I can draw my strength.
It’s good to hear your voice brother.
Stop and look at the girl spinning the circles.
Think about her. Think about the circles.
Think about how great she is. Think about how she’s prettier than you.
Think about the circles she’s spinning and how useless they are.
Think about how great the circles are.
Think about her naked. Think about the circles naked.
But still the girl is just a dream, an image, as well as matter, as well as death.
The circles are the poem.
Write this poem until it becomes your life.
it is then your job to live your life in accordance with the poem.
For you are a dream as well as a god as well as a piss as well as a cycle hungry
carbon life form
You are a part of the earth as you learn to break the earth.
I was with you through the summer.
I was with you when you saw him.
I rejoice with the tall one
I fought the house with you
You’re a genius at resisting bullets.
Now I will enter inside of your golden locket and take you along with me.
A few things I have to say to you:
Remember, a full meal makes a slow mongoose.
Sometimes one can have a better time cleaning house than taking the world by storm.
You’ve created me through your prayers
You gave me a voice in your poems.
I saved you in the garden though you didn’t deserve me.
You believe in feelings and you know this to be true.
You know there to be external phenomena and internal impulses which decide how you interface to face.
And you know a bit of love. But can you live with love? Can you let it circulate?
Can you be held and hold back?
Can you say goodbye and mean something else?
Can you stroke hands?
Do you know nothing of prolonged eye contact?
Would you allow the warm tingling to spread from your fertile crescent out to the tips of your fingers and the lines of your lips and let them be guided to the one you love -
or have you become too jaded and insane my child?
Do you wake up so haughty every morning to believe the world will tear everything from you?
Are you too smart to believe the sun shines with more than one meaning?
Are you so sure you’ll never sit in his lap again, and reach for his hand and taste his lips?
No moment has an architect hell-bent to destroy you, my darling. But every moment has a start and an end you can only see afterward, and you function with him in moments of euphoria.
Are you so clever as to explain euphoria?
The sun rises too quickly and quietly some mornings, and for this I apologize.
But have you not the moon? Have you not late night breakfast?
Will you not hold hands on the street looking beautiful together?
Your tears are a beautiful seasoning, as is your sex - waste neither of them.
Wake up in the morning, stumble home and cry in the shower if you must because that is what you are feeling and I love your feelings.
They are yours and they are beautiful.
But you will never be asked to give up.
For were you not given the most beautiful hair, and eyes, the softest of skin and flowing of hands?
Weren’t you given your mind to stare out of those eyes and know the world happens only so very indirectly at you?
For what it means, it so rarely means to, and I’d rather you be held in the hands of the grasses by the river than to believe for a moment that you are alone.
The East quakes and then falls still. How much your life has changed.
But you still remain positioned somewhere between life and death and eating
and shitting and
sleeping and not sleeping.
It is all dreams and it is all waking in the Midwest,
in the heartlands, on the broken railroad tracks of the rustbelt.
You stand up for the bus as it comes and sit down as it leaves,
thinking of him and life and his life and being in a different circle than yours
and the levity of all these things.
The wind is the biggest difference for you now. But it is all still a cycle. And you can live through cycles my dearest darling.
Now I would like to leave you.
Hold the locket when you miss me
but know that it is only a locket, and those are only hands
and when you feel power through holding it
it comes from you.
May the wind always kiss your skin
and the rain always stroke your face
and the ground be firmly under your feet when you aren’t flying.
This was a smaller part I was feeling fairly settled with so figured I'd toss it into the internet tumble-box of crap, y'know, a blog.
and if a bunch of this seems Kenneth Koch-y inspired - yup.
Riki Tiki Speaks Words of Encouragement
Sometimes I cough and fear that it’s blood. I know that it’s bullets.
(Now, where are you?)
I’m driving through Dearborn on accident and it’s 9/11.
It’s 9/12 and I’m drinking a cup of coffee.
It’s some point in August and I’m emptying out a golden locket in Ann Arbor that hands have touched.
I’m not crying.
I’m looking for Riki Tiki. From her I can draw my strength.
It’s good to hear your voice brother.
Stop and look at the girl spinning the circles.
Think about her. Think about the circles.
Think about how great she is. Think about how she’s prettier than you.
Think about the circles she’s spinning and how useless they are.
Think about how great the circles are.
Think about her naked. Think about the circles naked.
But still the girl is just a dream, an image, as well as matter, as well as death.
The circles are the poem.
Write this poem until it becomes your life.
it is then your job to live your life in accordance with the poem.
For you are a dream as well as a god as well as a piss as well as a cycle hungry
carbon life form
You are a part of the earth as you learn to break the earth.
I was with you through the summer.
I was with you when you saw him.
I rejoice with the tall one
I fought the house with you
You’re a genius at resisting bullets.
Now I will enter inside of your golden locket and take you along with me.
A few things I have to say to you:
Remember, a full meal makes a slow mongoose.
Sometimes one can have a better time cleaning house than taking the world by storm.
You’ve created me through your prayers
You gave me a voice in your poems.
I saved you in the garden though you didn’t deserve me.
You believe in feelings and you know this to be true.
You know there to be external phenomena and internal impulses which decide how you interface to face.
And you know a bit of love. But can you live with love? Can you let it circulate?
Can you be held and hold back?
Can you say goodbye and mean something else?
Can you stroke hands?
Do you know nothing of prolonged eye contact?
Would you allow the warm tingling to spread from your fertile crescent out to the tips of your fingers and the lines of your lips and let them be guided to the one you love -
or have you become too jaded and insane my child?
Do you wake up so haughty every morning to believe the world will tear everything from you?
Are you too smart to believe the sun shines with more than one meaning?
Are you so sure you’ll never sit in his lap again, and reach for his hand and taste his lips?
No moment has an architect hell-bent to destroy you, my darling. But every moment has a start and an end you can only see afterward, and you function with him in moments of euphoria.
Are you so clever as to explain euphoria?
The sun rises too quickly and quietly some mornings, and for this I apologize.
But have you not the moon? Have you not late night breakfast?
Will you not hold hands on the street looking beautiful together?
Your tears are a beautiful seasoning, as is your sex - waste neither of them.
Wake up in the morning, stumble home and cry in the shower if you must because that is what you are feeling and I love your feelings.
They are yours and they are beautiful.
But you will never be asked to give up.
For were you not given the most beautiful hair, and eyes, the softest of skin and flowing of hands?
Weren’t you given your mind to stare out of those eyes and know the world happens only so very indirectly at you?
For what it means, it so rarely means to, and I’d rather you be held in the hands of the grasses by the river than to believe for a moment that you are alone.
The East quakes and then falls still. How much your life has changed.
But you still remain positioned somewhere between life and death and eating
and shitting and
sleeping and not sleeping.
It is all dreams and it is all waking in the Midwest,
in the heartlands, on the broken railroad tracks of the rustbelt.
You stand up for the bus as it comes and sit down as it leaves,
thinking of him and life and his life and being in a different circle than yours
and the levity of all these things.
The wind is the biggest difference for you now. But it is all still a cycle. And you can live through cycles my dearest darling.
Now I would like to leave you.
Hold the locket when you miss me
but know that it is only a locket, and those are only hands
and when you feel power through holding it
it comes from you.
May the wind always kiss your skin
and the rain always stroke your face
and the ground be firmly under your feet when you aren’t flying.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
60's Pop Fetish
I like to clumsily scour YouTube for videos I like - and if you're friends with me on Facebook and my newsfeed goes into your newsfeed, this fact is probably too obvious.
I've recently developed a deep and lasting love for old pop shows, with a recent infatuation on the 60's. There's something about the simplistic bombast (yes, I said simplistic bombast) of background dancers, backing bands, and maybe just old-timey hair-dos that get me going. Early television is always a blast to watch.
Here are some of my recent fun finds, hope you likey:
Del Shannon performing "Runaway" on the show Hollywood A Go-Go. What I know of this show, via Wikipedia, it was a not very long-running show based out of LA. It lasted for about a year ('64-'65) but featured some pretty famous peeps, such as like, Smokey Robinson, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, & Sonny Cher. I love this clip of Del Shannon. The go-go girls trotting around the stage just gets me.
The Shangri-las performing "Leader of the Pack"
I've been doing a certain amount of digging to figure out what show this is. There are two different leads. The first is from a YouTube commenter pointing out that the motorcycle rider is Robert Goulet, a Canadian entertainer - which makes them believe it is on his and his wife's (Carol Lawrence) show. However, I see no evidence of them ever having a show together.
The other is that it's from the game show "I've Got a Secret" on CBS. The video has "Game Show" icon on the top right, which makes this seem fairly likely. And perhaps since it's not such a pop show format leads to why the video is also so goofy.
Also I fully support motorcycles on stage.
Sylvie Vartan performing "Irresistiblement"
This video took me FOREVER to find (considering that we're on the internet, so really, not that long). Vartan is a favorite Ye-Ye girl of mine, and this is probably my favorite jam of hers. I'd read about this video, but hadn't been able to find it UNTIL NOW. This aired in December of 1968 on the show "Jolie Poupee", which is also the name of a song she performs later alongside a doll version of herself(cool vid too, I just like this song more.) Earlier in 1968 Vartan had been in a car accident, but was able to recover and go back on tour in a couple months - which may be why she goes slightly easier on herself in this video than she often does.
Small Faces performing "All or Nothing"
Well, okay, they're performing on the street, so this isn't exactly a pop show. But it's such a cool video of them, and I love the people walking in front of the camera and dropping coins in the hat(such greed. GOD.) This is apparently in Stockholm, though I'm not entirely certain.
I have burgeoning love for Small Faces and the Mods, as well as a huge boner for Steve Marriot. He's a great performer and his voice gives me the shivs. (Shivs: see Shivers)
I believe this was filmed 66ish-67ish.
Okee doke, that's all. Have a great day folks.
I've recently developed a deep and lasting love for old pop shows, with a recent infatuation on the 60's. There's something about the simplistic bombast (yes, I said simplistic bombast) of background dancers, backing bands, and maybe just old-timey hair-dos that get me going. Early television is always a blast to watch.
Here are some of my recent fun finds, hope you likey:
Del Shannon performing "Runaway" on the show Hollywood A Go-Go. What I know of this show, via Wikipedia, it was a not very long-running show based out of LA. It lasted for about a year ('64-'65) but featured some pretty famous peeps, such as like, Smokey Robinson, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, & Sonny Cher. I love this clip of Del Shannon. The go-go girls trotting around the stage just gets me.
The Shangri-las performing "Leader of the Pack"
I've been doing a certain amount of digging to figure out what show this is. There are two different leads. The first is from a YouTube commenter pointing out that the motorcycle rider is Robert Goulet, a Canadian entertainer - which makes them believe it is on his and his wife's (Carol Lawrence) show. However, I see no evidence of them ever having a show together.
The other is that it's from the game show "I've Got a Secret" on CBS. The video has "Game Show" icon on the top right, which makes this seem fairly likely. And perhaps since it's not such a pop show format leads to why the video is also so goofy.
Also I fully support motorcycles on stage.
Sylvie Vartan performing "Irresistiblement"
This video took me FOREVER to find (considering that we're on the internet, so really, not that long). Vartan is a favorite Ye-Ye girl of mine, and this is probably my favorite jam of hers. I'd read about this video, but hadn't been able to find it UNTIL NOW. This aired in December of 1968 on the show "Jolie Poupee", which is also the name of a song she performs later alongside a doll version of herself(cool vid too, I just like this song more.) Earlier in 1968 Vartan had been in a car accident, but was able to recover and go back on tour in a couple months - which may be why she goes slightly easier on herself in this video than she often does.
Small Faces performing "All or Nothing"
Well, okay, they're performing on the street, so this isn't exactly a pop show. But it's such a cool video of them, and I love the people walking in front of the camera and dropping coins in the hat(such greed. GOD.) This is apparently in Stockholm, though I'm not entirely certain.
I have burgeoning love for Small Faces and the Mods, as well as a huge boner for Steve Marriot. He's a great performer and his voice gives me the shivs. (Shivs: see Shivers)
I believe this was filmed 66ish-67ish.
Okee doke, that's all. Have a great day folks.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Some General Instructions
Make sure to eat a varied diet of fruits and veggies. It'll increase your enjoyment of The Earth's flora. It also keep you happy and healthy, and it'll probably be easier to get laid. Remember that nobody likes an ugly bitch.
If you usually always wear a bra, sometimes don't wear it.
Remember how to read and write. These things will come in handy some day and you'll be glad you took the time out of your day to figure these out.
Nobody stares at your face as much as the entire world does. How often do you get to stare in your face? Make an effort to look at it more. Figure out it's curves. Remember it's fine lines. Anticipate future wrinkles but learn to appreciate the ones you've already acquired. It's fine to be disappointed in yourself and your life choices but don't wallow about stupid shits for too long.
Think of interesting cuss words and fun ways to spell them on the internet. Try saying: "I don't give a wigwam, for fux sake."
Remember that a lot of things are offensive to different cultures. You're just one culture. And you might be offending yourself at times.
Listen to hip-hop.
Find interesting ways to move your body. Then move your body that way around people you don't know very well and see if they treat you differently than other people do. But remember that this could simply be because you don't know them very well and they're just different. Of course, it could also be because you're moving differently.
It's often hard to know things for sure.
When you're on the phone with people, make sure to ask them what they're wearing. People appreciate other people being interested in them.
Try to go to the bathroom regularly. Be careful when you wash your hands. Make sure they're actually getting clean.
If you're bored, you can always try going to a museum. They're often free. Or else really expensive. That generally is an indicator of how interesting a museum is. If it's free it's probably because they don't have anything good and can't afford someone to work at the front counter anyway, and they figure they can save on labor if they just take away the need to collect money. As well as saving on machinery to ring people up. Credit card machines can be expensive, since no one has cash on them anymore.
If you have cash, try to exchange all the bills in for golden dollars. They're very special and are worth twice as much. You can get rich this way.
If you get a lot of golden dollars, put it in a clever sack and wear it around your waist. That way you can easily access your treasure, as well as have a good conversation piece.
Severe food allergies can be a menace. Try not to antagonize people who have them. You never know when they're going to snap.
Don't drink too much.
It's not a bad idea to try out being religious for awhile. And if it doesn't work for you, don't beat yourself up. You can always try out something else to give your life meaning. There's plenty of time for being wishy-washy with your eternity.
Do your laundry more than once a month. Don't waste water, but come on. If your clothes are smelly no one will really like being around you.
If you fall in love with someone, make sure to surprise them once in awhile. Get an exotic pet. Open the door wearing a tutu. Write them a poem. Make sure the poem doesn't suck so bad. But if it does suck, you can make up for the suckiness by playing minimalist guitar riffs and reading your poem over the music. Lots of shitty poets have found success in relationships this way.
If you don't have health insurance, be bitter about it. It's unfair and a method of passive aggressive long-term euthanizing. Your country is being a dick face.
When posing for pictures, don't try too hard. You want it to still look like you so that no one is disappointed when they see the real you.
As you go through life, you might find you need to marry for money. This is okay as long as you can be a good cook. They'll probably appreciate your contributions to the union, and not mind buying you good ingredients and clever flatware.
When out to dinner with other people, do not throw up onto other people's plates.
Remember that everything dies. You're dying. You're dying right now. Watch yourself in the mirror so you can see what death looks like.
Remember that you can't live without dying though. Remark upon this fact.
Tattoo it on your body so that you don't forget. As you grow older watch the tattoo morph with the sagging contours of your body. Pay attention to the liver spots that grow underneath the ink of the tattoo.
This will help you remember how true of a fact that all is.
Don't hurt people in ways that are dumb.
Slippers can be a very wise investment. They bring comfort and warmth around the home.
If you must have pets, don't ignore them.
Don't make lists that use letters to organize the points. That's going against what God created letters for. They are for making pictures of sounds - not for counting.
Don't stay at your house all day. Get outside. Spy on your neighbors. Stretch out. Run around the block. Play hopscotch with the neighbor kids. Go buy a fifth of whiskey. Drink the whiskey as you walk around in circles in your yard.
Once you have finished the fifth of whiskey, go out on the town and see who you can get to hang out with you. You might meet somebody nice who'll sleep with you, or maybe you can at least find a new friend who might sleep with you someday.
Don't give up if you meet no one at the first place you go. Try the park. Lots of lonely and nice people hang out at parks. But no matter how it turns out, at least you've already gotten out of the house today which means you can go back to your house and have a nice time sitting around and watching television.
Maybe there's some good reruns of Malcolm in the Middle on UPN. You like that show. It's humorous and silly but satisfying to watch. Don't get too frustrated during the commercials. You can always turn the television on mute during the commercials, or get up and fix yourself a ham sandwich. This will be nice to eat as well as help sop up the pool of alcohol sitting in your stomach from the fifth of whiskey.
Once you've made your sandwich, you can put it on a plate and grab a napkin, and maybe the commercials will be finished by then. You must be cautious because it's easy to miss the first 30 seconds, or even minute, of the show if you aren't quick enough. This can be disappointing and make the plot line rather confusing. With enough practice you'll probably be able to anticipate the length of commercial breaks, or learn the theme music to Malcolm in the Middle well enough to where you can run out of your kitchen and back over to your couch, with your sandwich and napkin, quick enough to where you don't miss anything.
If you go out on dates with people, be friendly and tell them you had a nice time. Unless you didn't. Don't lie to them. Only ever tell them the truth no matter how boring it is.
If you have a basket, put all of these pieces of advice inside of this poem in the basket. Carry that basket around with you so that you can remember this poem easily. If you're unsure how to act in a situation, confer with the basket. It'll know what you need to do. Relax and trust. You need to live your life to at least some extent.
Now, Go. The poem has ended. live in peace.
If you usually always wear a bra, sometimes don't wear it.
Remember how to read and write. These things will come in handy some day and you'll be glad you took the time out of your day to figure these out.
Nobody stares at your face as much as the entire world does. How often do you get to stare in your face? Make an effort to look at it more. Figure out it's curves. Remember it's fine lines. Anticipate future wrinkles but learn to appreciate the ones you've already acquired. It's fine to be disappointed in yourself and your life choices but don't wallow about stupid shits for too long.
Think of interesting cuss words and fun ways to spell them on the internet. Try saying: "I don't give a wigwam, for fux sake."
Remember that a lot of things are offensive to different cultures. You're just one culture. And you might be offending yourself at times.
Listen to hip-hop.
Find interesting ways to move your body. Then move your body that way around people you don't know very well and see if they treat you differently than other people do. But remember that this could simply be because you don't know them very well and they're just different. Of course, it could also be because you're moving differently.
It's often hard to know things for sure.
When you're on the phone with people, make sure to ask them what they're wearing. People appreciate other people being interested in them.
Try to go to the bathroom regularly. Be careful when you wash your hands. Make sure they're actually getting clean.
If you're bored, you can always try going to a museum. They're often free. Or else really expensive. That generally is an indicator of how interesting a museum is. If it's free it's probably because they don't have anything good and can't afford someone to work at the front counter anyway, and they figure they can save on labor if they just take away the need to collect money. As well as saving on machinery to ring people up. Credit card machines can be expensive, since no one has cash on them anymore.
If you have cash, try to exchange all the bills in for golden dollars. They're very special and are worth twice as much. You can get rich this way.
If you get a lot of golden dollars, put it in a clever sack and wear it around your waist. That way you can easily access your treasure, as well as have a good conversation piece.
Severe food allergies can be a menace. Try not to antagonize people who have them. You never know when they're going to snap.
Don't drink too much.
It's not a bad idea to try out being religious for awhile. And if it doesn't work for you, don't beat yourself up. You can always try out something else to give your life meaning. There's plenty of time for being wishy-washy with your eternity.
Do your laundry more than once a month. Don't waste water, but come on. If your clothes are smelly no one will really like being around you.
If you fall in love with someone, make sure to surprise them once in awhile. Get an exotic pet. Open the door wearing a tutu. Write them a poem. Make sure the poem doesn't suck so bad. But if it does suck, you can make up for the suckiness by playing minimalist guitar riffs and reading your poem over the music. Lots of shitty poets have found success in relationships this way.
If you don't have health insurance, be bitter about it. It's unfair and a method of passive aggressive long-term euthanizing. Your country is being a dick face.
When posing for pictures, don't try too hard. You want it to still look like you so that no one is disappointed when they see the real you.
As you go through life, you might find you need to marry for money. This is okay as long as you can be a good cook. They'll probably appreciate your contributions to the union, and not mind buying you good ingredients and clever flatware.
When out to dinner with other people, do not throw up onto other people's plates.
Remember that everything dies. You're dying. You're dying right now. Watch yourself in the mirror so you can see what death looks like.
Remember that you can't live without dying though. Remark upon this fact.
Tattoo it on your body so that you don't forget. As you grow older watch the tattoo morph with the sagging contours of your body. Pay attention to the liver spots that grow underneath the ink of the tattoo.
This will help you remember how true of a fact that all is.
Don't hurt people in ways that are dumb.
Slippers can be a very wise investment. They bring comfort and warmth around the home.
If you must have pets, don't ignore them.
Don't make lists that use letters to organize the points. That's going against what God created letters for. They are for making pictures of sounds - not for counting.
Don't stay at your house all day. Get outside. Spy on your neighbors. Stretch out. Run around the block. Play hopscotch with the neighbor kids. Go buy a fifth of whiskey. Drink the whiskey as you walk around in circles in your yard.
Once you have finished the fifth of whiskey, go out on the town and see who you can get to hang out with you. You might meet somebody nice who'll sleep with you, or maybe you can at least find a new friend who might sleep with you someday.
Don't give up if you meet no one at the first place you go. Try the park. Lots of lonely and nice people hang out at parks. But no matter how it turns out, at least you've already gotten out of the house today which means you can go back to your house and have a nice time sitting around and watching television.
Maybe there's some good reruns of Malcolm in the Middle on UPN. You like that show. It's humorous and silly but satisfying to watch. Don't get too frustrated during the commercials. You can always turn the television on mute during the commercials, or get up and fix yourself a ham sandwich. This will be nice to eat as well as help sop up the pool of alcohol sitting in your stomach from the fifth of whiskey.
Once you've made your sandwich, you can put it on a plate and grab a napkin, and maybe the commercials will be finished by then. You must be cautious because it's easy to miss the first 30 seconds, or even minute, of the show if you aren't quick enough. This can be disappointing and make the plot line rather confusing. With enough practice you'll probably be able to anticipate the length of commercial breaks, or learn the theme music to Malcolm in the Middle well enough to where you can run out of your kitchen and back over to your couch, with your sandwich and napkin, quick enough to where you don't miss anything.
If you go out on dates with people, be friendly and tell them you had a nice time. Unless you didn't. Don't lie to them. Only ever tell them the truth no matter how boring it is.
If you have a basket, put all of these pieces of advice inside of this poem in the basket. Carry that basket around with you so that you can remember this poem easily. If you're unsure how to act in a situation, confer with the basket. It'll know what you need to do. Relax and trust. You need to live your life to at least some extent.
Now, Go. The poem has ended. live in peace.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
I'm Cold and It's a Sunday
It's not hilarious - it's a sign of life.
I'm going to sit here and drink wine with one hand, but I'm going to set the glass down to type. These are two events that seem to be happening simultaneously - but it's a ruse. I'm tricking a huge giant who lives high in the sky and only sees me as tiny piece of dust, typing on a computer and drinking wine at the same time. But if he's could get off of his stupid ass sky house and take a real look at the goddam situation for once in his fucking life...maybe he would see that I don't drink wine while I type.
That's confusing and potentially hazardous to my computer. Idiot.
Another interesting development:
i just lit a cigarette and started smoking it. I had to stop typing altogether, AND not be drinking wine. The giant might see this as an anomaly, if he took the time to carefully watch (WHICH HE WOULDN'T. fuckin giants). he'd probably study it, until he sees a common enough pattern and realize that
"...this appears to be just another habit the tiny dust mite has. Though it is interesting to note that the creature seems to have less anxiety about performing the acts of 'typing' and 'smoking' simultaneously. I have noted a frequent, yet clumsy and haphazardous pattern of, what I have come to call, 'smoping' where the creature lackadaisically leaves a cigarette in her mouth and tries to type without getting too much smoke into it's small centered eyeballs."
This is a weird rant. I think it's over now.
But in other important news:
-Should I continue to stay out here? Should I go inside and make guacamole?
-I probably wouldn't get around to eating much guacamole tonight, honestly.
-But if I make it now I won't have to make it tomorrow. and guac really needs to sit a bit to be really delicious.
-whoa, what if my avocados still aren't ripe enough for all the squishing?
-maybe I'll just watch a movie and fall asleep. I have some pretty sweet movies laying around.
-I'm wearing a onesie for adult humans.
-upside: really comfy. downside: going to the bathroom.
-note: must input crotchal snaps into the adult human onesie.
Really though: typing in all caps is so joyous. It's like the running down a hill screaming for the internet.
Or being the weird autistic kid at the party.
There's a mostly dead cat whose been wandering around my house living the last dregs of his life near my porch. It's depressing and has got to be a bad omen.
I put the men in menstrual cycle.
I'm still cold and it's still Sunday. Fiddleeee deee.
Life makes it dreary march on the steps of my porch. Limping along with Space Aids.
this all sounds really depressing, but I'm not really sure I'm in a bad mood. Moods are just moods. They float around like tiny specks of dust moving and pushing nothing that really matters. and if you never clean you get a build up on the top of your record player, and it looks like you never use any of the cool toys you own.
Speaking of dust, I'm allergic to it. I'm allergic to fucking dust. How does that become an actual allergy? We're allegedly made from dust, and we're going to become dust again at some point. I was told that most Ash Wednesdays of my whole life. Does this all mean that I'm allergic to the state of not being alive?
I mean, that's actually a fair thing to say. But maybe a little redundant.
Unless, when I die, I'll just give myself a huge sneezing fit. And thats what death will be like. Pretty dumb, kinda weird, and really boring.
I'm going to sit here and drink wine with one hand, but I'm going to set the glass down to type. These are two events that seem to be happening simultaneously - but it's a ruse. I'm tricking a huge giant who lives high in the sky and only sees me as tiny piece of dust, typing on a computer and drinking wine at the same time. But if he's could get off of his stupid ass sky house and take a real look at the goddam situation for once in his fucking life...maybe he would see that I don't drink wine while I type.
That's confusing and potentially hazardous to my computer. Idiot.
Another interesting development:
i just lit a cigarette and started smoking it. I had to stop typing altogether, AND not be drinking wine. The giant might see this as an anomaly, if he took the time to carefully watch (WHICH HE WOULDN'T. fuckin giants). he'd probably study it, until he sees a common enough pattern and realize that
"...this appears to be just another habit the tiny dust mite has. Though it is interesting to note that the creature seems to have less anxiety about performing the acts of 'typing' and 'smoking' simultaneously. I have noted a frequent, yet clumsy and haphazardous pattern of, what I have come to call, 'smoping' where the creature lackadaisically leaves a cigarette in her mouth and tries to type without getting too much smoke into it's small centered eyeballs."
This is a weird rant. I think it's over now.
But in other important news:
-Should I continue to stay out here? Should I go inside and make guacamole?
-I probably wouldn't get around to eating much guacamole tonight, honestly.
-But if I make it now I won't have to make it tomorrow. and guac really needs to sit a bit to be really delicious.
-whoa, what if my avocados still aren't ripe enough for all the squishing?
-maybe I'll just watch a movie and fall asleep. I have some pretty sweet movies laying around.
-I'm wearing a onesie for adult humans.
-upside: really comfy. downside: going to the bathroom.
-note: must input crotchal snaps into the adult human onesie.
Really though: typing in all caps is so joyous. It's like the running down a hill screaming for the internet.
Or being the weird autistic kid at the party.
There's a mostly dead cat whose been wandering around my house living the last dregs of his life near my porch. It's depressing and has got to be a bad omen.
I put the men in menstrual cycle.
I'm still cold and it's still Sunday. Fiddleeee deee.
Life makes it dreary march on the steps of my porch. Limping along with Space Aids.
this all sounds really depressing, but I'm not really sure I'm in a bad mood. Moods are just moods. They float around like tiny specks of dust moving and pushing nothing that really matters. and if you never clean you get a build up on the top of your record player, and it looks like you never use any of the cool toys you own.
Speaking of dust, I'm allergic to it. I'm allergic to fucking dust. How does that become an actual allergy? We're allegedly made from dust, and we're going to become dust again at some point. I was told that most Ash Wednesdays of my whole life. Does this all mean that I'm allergic to the state of not being alive?
I mean, that's actually a fair thing to say. But maybe a little redundant.
Unless, when I die, I'll just give myself a huge sneezing fit. And thats what death will be like. Pretty dumb, kinda weird, and really boring.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Easter In Michigan
I. OPENING INVOCATION
Holey moley, holey moley, holey moley,
holey moley, holey moley
the voice coming from my pen is holey moley
Roll away the stoned
it’s Easter, and Christ he’s done it again.
There’s holes in his hands holes in his hands holes in his hands
and I’m blowing smoke through his hands and they’re holey
holey moley, I’m holding a roley-poley and it’s holy.
Amen.
II. THE FALSE PROPHETS OF DETROIT AND THE STATE OF THE WORLD
There are names on the street but
the streets have names
given to them by a faceless false prophet
saying that this street will be Main Street
and these are the boxes we live in
These are the boxes we write our names on
and told to keep them to ourselves
or inside a gallery where they will be ascribed to ourselves
but a voice cries out in the wilderness
preprare ye the way
my prophet is Taki 183
and my name is Riki Tiki Tavi
prepare ye the way for some sweet shit
There are potholes in detroit
there are people smoking pot in holes in detroit
the city is broken iron pottery in detroit
and detroit is holy - the whole midwest is holy
the whole midwest is rotting with holes
the spirit of detroit writhes and shakes the ground
urban tumbleweeds flying out of abandoned homes
some say the city is dead
i say the city is reinterpreting life
deep in the center of detroit
a child sneaks out at night
to write his name on the boardwalk
his parents roll their eyes as his hand shakes with legitimacy
he paints his name and runs off back through the dark neighborhoods
the building quivers
a sacred text has been written
and the cosmos adjust themselves accordingly
one name proves that life exists
Henry Ford stirs in his tomb
“someone touched my robe - i felt some power leave me.”
and I, Riki Tiki Tavi, know my time has come to act.
III. THE BALLAD OF RIKI TIKI TAVI
The body is a bit of a cage I don’t understand
I have hives on my hands.
the hives of the world are in my holey hands.
my pen rubs them as i write these holy words
Riki Tiki Tavi lives in the city that houses the cock of the cousin of the prophet
Demetaki Ypsilanti
the mighty Huron brings life to the city
but the river is dying
I sit by the river and draw my power from it
I sit on Michigan Ave and draw my power from the sewer drains
I sit on my balcony and draw power from the hunchback that lives in the Presbo church
I know that Riki Tiki Tavi flows through me
and I flow through Riki Tiki Tavi
and that we are one
and that Taki 183 is our prophet
If this body be not a cage,
every Easter I would stand over Michigan
and rub it with my holy hands
Riki Tiki would stretch her finger across the sky
to touch Michigan’s poor extended finger
which lethargically touches mine back
creating a sort of cosmic connection
If this body be not a cage,
I’d want myself buried in the garden of detroit every spring
and harvested every fall by a hot naked man with a hard interesting cock
I would wrap my vagina around it, and we would do it in the ocean
and I’m not scared of the ocean anymore
my sexy, sexy uterus would fall in sync with the waves in this funky ocean of sex
and we would birth the savior of Michigan
and float off in a basket down river.
According to Taki 183 this child shall lead the lower peninsula out of darkness
IV. RIKI TIKI DESCENDS
I wake up at night
This is the night of the day of my rebirth
This is the night of the day of the power in my body to descend upon the earth
This is the night of the day that the names on buildings have been crying out for
This is the night of the day for shit to go down
I wake up at night gasping
and shoot shrapnel from my lungs
it falls out of my mouth on the people of Michigan
the shrapnel sparks in the air
I set fire to Flint, to Saginaw, to Chelsea, to Alpena, downriver which was already on fire,
on Ypsi, on Petoskey, on Detroit, on Benton Harbor, on Kalamazoo
I cough in the night and start fires as sparks fall downward.
the people leave their houses and understand each other’s languages
According to the prophet Taki 183 the people will take back their cities
they will take back their cities with their names
They will write them on subways
on buildings
on statues
on bridges
on sidewalks
they will write them
until the cities are littered
with the identities of the people who live inside of them
Some Sadducees will call this trash
others will put it in galleries
the cage will rattle those inside
but when the insides rattle back
with the proof that they aren’t dead yet
there be no cage no more
Holey moley, holey moley, holey moley
the pen I write with is holy
It’s Easter and I stand inside of Michigan
Holey moley, holey moley, holey moley,
holey moley, holey moley
the voice coming from my pen is holey moley
Roll away the stoned
it’s Easter, and Christ he’s done it again.
There’s holes in his hands holes in his hands holes in his hands
and I’m blowing smoke through his hands and they’re holey
holey moley, I’m holding a roley-poley and it’s holy.
Amen.
II. THE FALSE PROPHETS OF DETROIT AND THE STATE OF THE WORLD
There are names on the street but
the streets have names
given to them by a faceless false prophet
saying that this street will be Main Street
and these are the boxes we live in
These are the boxes we write our names on
and told to keep them to ourselves
or inside a gallery where they will be ascribed to ourselves
but a voice cries out in the wilderness
preprare ye the way
my prophet is Taki 183
and my name is Riki Tiki Tavi
prepare ye the way for some sweet shit
There are potholes in detroit
there are people smoking pot in holes in detroit
the city is broken iron pottery in detroit
and detroit is holy - the whole midwest is holy
the whole midwest is rotting with holes
the spirit of detroit writhes and shakes the ground
urban tumbleweeds flying out of abandoned homes
some say the city is dead
i say the city is reinterpreting life
deep in the center of detroit
a child sneaks out at night
to write his name on the boardwalk
his parents roll their eyes as his hand shakes with legitimacy
he paints his name and runs off back through the dark neighborhoods
the building quivers
a sacred text has been written
and the cosmos adjust themselves accordingly
one name proves that life exists
Henry Ford stirs in his tomb
“someone touched my robe - i felt some power leave me.”
and I, Riki Tiki Tavi, know my time has come to act.
III. THE BALLAD OF RIKI TIKI TAVI
The body is a bit of a cage I don’t understand
I have hives on my hands.
the hives of the world are in my holey hands.
my pen rubs them as i write these holy words
Riki Tiki Tavi lives in the city that houses the cock of the cousin of the prophet
Demetaki Ypsilanti
the mighty Huron brings life to the city
but the river is dying
I sit by the river and draw my power from it
I sit on Michigan Ave and draw my power from the sewer drains
I sit on my balcony and draw power from the hunchback that lives in the Presbo church
I know that Riki Tiki Tavi flows through me
and I flow through Riki Tiki Tavi
and that we are one
and that Taki 183 is our prophet
If this body be not a cage,
every Easter I would stand over Michigan
and rub it with my holy hands
Riki Tiki would stretch her finger across the sky
to touch Michigan’s poor extended finger
which lethargically touches mine back
creating a sort of cosmic connection
If this body be not a cage,
I’d want myself buried in the garden of detroit every spring
and harvested every fall by a hot naked man with a hard interesting cock
I would wrap my vagina around it, and we would do it in the ocean
and I’m not scared of the ocean anymore
my sexy, sexy uterus would fall in sync with the waves in this funky ocean of sex
and we would birth the savior of Michigan
and float off in a basket down river.
According to Taki 183 this child shall lead the lower peninsula out of darkness
IV. RIKI TIKI DESCENDS
I wake up at night
This is the night of the day of my rebirth
This is the night of the day of the power in my body to descend upon the earth
This is the night of the day that the names on buildings have been crying out for
This is the night of the day for shit to go down
I wake up at night gasping
and shoot shrapnel from my lungs
it falls out of my mouth on the people of Michigan
the shrapnel sparks in the air
I set fire to Flint, to Saginaw, to Chelsea, to Alpena, downriver which was already on fire,
on Ypsi, on Petoskey, on Detroit, on Benton Harbor, on Kalamazoo
I cough in the night and start fires as sparks fall downward.
the people leave their houses and understand each other’s languages
According to the prophet Taki 183 the people will take back their cities
they will take back their cities with their names
They will write them on subways
on buildings
on statues
on bridges
on sidewalks
they will write them
until the cities are littered
with the identities of the people who live inside of them
Some Sadducees will call this trash
others will put it in galleries
the cage will rattle those inside
but when the insides rattle back
with the proof that they aren’t dead yet
there be no cage no more
Holey moley, holey moley, holey moley
the pen I write with is holy
It’s Easter and I stand inside of Michigan
Friday, May 13, 2011
A Lot of Things Are Stupid, But Only Somethings Are Gay.
Which letter is your favorite?
I got 26 options but the bitch ain't one.
I was walking up and down cross street with a goal at one end and a destination at the other. I realized that my transit mode goal was to just not get molested. Or at least be a goddam badass if I did.
Why do people call ladies mean names when they're wearing skimpy clothes? This is SO MISGUIDED. pick on the girls who are dressed ready for a fight - they're pretty much asking for it.
I'm a man and I demand a woman for that act.
So anywayzos, I was walking up and down cross street and I was thinking about farting. farting is interesting and important. when do people do it? when do they decide it's okay to do it? who do they fart around? when do they decide it's cool to fart around someone? is that decision valid for life?
i'm just not as interested in who you've been with, where you work, what you wear or what you talk about as i am in the nature of your farting.
and maybe that's just a cute quirk of mine.
I would say I judge people who "never fart." except my best friend is a "never farter." to this day I've never heard fart. and I don't think she's "the worst person ever." just, y'know, maybe a freak.
it's hard to know what write about when I'm this tired.
i bought smokes from Tom's tonight - I never see those guys anymore. Probably cuz I'm 21 so the need to buy booze under age is lessened.
this needs to be done. life is falling off of it's
almonds everywhere.
I got 26 options but the bitch ain't one.
I was walking up and down cross street with a goal at one end and a destination at the other. I realized that my transit mode goal was to just not get molested. Or at least be a goddam badass if I did.
Why do people call ladies mean names when they're wearing skimpy clothes? This is SO MISGUIDED. pick on the girls who are dressed ready for a fight - they're pretty much asking for it.
I'm a man and I demand a woman for that act.
So anywayzos, I was walking up and down cross street and I was thinking about farting. farting is interesting and important. when do people do it? when do they decide it's okay to do it? who do they fart around? when do they decide it's cool to fart around someone? is that decision valid for life?
i'm just not as interested in who you've been with, where you work, what you wear or what you talk about as i am in the nature of your farting.
and maybe that's just a cute quirk of mine.
I would say I judge people who "never fart." except my best friend is a "never farter." to this day I've never heard fart. and I don't think she's "the worst person ever." just, y'know, maybe a freak.
it's hard to know what write about when I'm this tired.
i bought smokes from Tom's tonight - I never see those guys anymore. Probably cuz I'm 21 so the need to buy booze under age is lessened.
this needs to be done. life is falling off of it's
almonds everywhere.
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