outdoor dinner party kinda porch

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.

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.

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 - Irrésistiblement Vidéo gotti57 sélectionnée dans Musique

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

Masturbating Only Happens When You Try

sometimes i miss myself. then i realize, "oh hey, i've been here the whole time!" and that feels GREAT. really, i'm the friend that will never abandon me. i love myself. completely. in every single way.

sometimes i think about myself.

i'm so glad that i'm not without me. i'm really kind of fun.

i have an earnest face and only lie when its funny.
i have at least two ears.
i look funny in pictures, but sexier in real life.
that makes me better than most internets.

i make the world spin around and under me.
i am a breeze that messes up umbrellas and skirts.
but i like it, because i get to feel myself do something, and that makes me feel amazing.
and i like it when i feel amazing.

i wake up every day. there's never been a day that i've missed entirely. that's because it's a day that i get to wake up and spend with myself. i don't won't to close my eyes.
i don't want to miss a thing.

i'm so glad i get to be the girl pictured here. damn, girl.

i don't begrudge you for not being me.
that's part of why i like myself so much: i'm really generous with not hating people for not being anything like me.

in fact, it doesn't bother me one bit that they aren't me.
if they got to be me, i wouldn't be able to be.

i've been good at a number of things throughout my life, and that's really great.
sometimes i'm less good at things.
but i don't really care one way or another. either way, i get to be the person living inside of my spectacular form, animating my parts and watching myself succeeding or failing.
the outcome seems less significant when i think about it that way.

i wonder what the likelihood of me ending up being me was. 1 in a 1000? 1 in a 100bajakillion000? it's probably pretty high.

yo dog...what would it be like if i didn't luck out and end up being me? i might not like the other person i was pretending to be, as opposed to THIS person i ended up being. and being this person is PERFECTLY WONDERFUL.

really the more pertinent question is...this seems too good to be true..IS IT? am i REALLY me? or am i just suffering a hallucination and really i'm someone sucky.
like THIS guy:



oh MAN! he SUCKS!





i don't think i even know who that guy is!

i've been told: "y'know, if you love yourself so much why don't you MARRY you?"

that's a really good idea.

unfortunately, gay marriage is still illegal in michigan.



legalize marriage for all people so that i can marry myself, folks.

but then our kids would probably be the ubermensch who would end up being a real douchebag. it wouldn't be our fault - just the eugenic luck of the draw. sorry for ending the world guys.

it's true. i seen it.

Is it lunch time? Time for a disco pick me up!

Let's start your disco pick me up on the slower side to make sure you don't pull anything.



George McCrae - Rock Your Baby (1974)

It's amazing when a song can make you feel like you're spirits are so high when you're dancing so slowly. But there's something to it: sometimes it's too exhausting to shake it fast (watch yourself). Take it down a notch and rock back and forth all sexy like.

Now that you're warmed up, try out some of this guy's killer moves.


Boney M - Daddy Cool (1976)

god, I love them. And thanks to Ian Murray in general for showing me them.

Meanwhile, in Spain:


Fussy Cussy - La Vita (1976)

Love the rocky direction that one takes, and the guitars at the end.



Gloria Gaynor - Honey Bee (1973)

That one was really sexy because it was about how boys are like bees and they should go around stinging chicks more often. Thats something I can really get behind, because, like, I like boys too.

Speaking of how hot and sexy boys are, check out these fine male specimens:


now that you've gotten off, I'd say your disco pick me up is complete, and you're ready to get back to work. I hope it was good for you (too). Thanks for playing!

Tha Alkaholiks and Flute Samples

I was diggin' on Tha Alkaholiks earlier today and decided to post some of their videos.

Tha Alkaholiks came out of LA, though apparently two of the fellers are from exotic Cincinnati, Ohio. They're made up of DJ & producer E-Swift (Eric Brooks), and MC's J-Ro (James Robinson) and Tash (Rico Smith.) Thanks Wikipedia.

Here are some videos:

Tha Alkaholiks ft. Ol Dirty Bastard - Hip Hop Drunkies off of Likwidation in 1997.

Exciting song, it has this really noisy trashcan like bassline. I was excited that ODB made an appearance in this song, but uh, he seems to have missed the shooting for the video. Curious, especially during his short verse when they sort of awkwardly look at each other. But I'm pretty sure I saw Xzibit appear for a lulrandomz sighting.
Sweet whistle sample from The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly.

Tha Alkaholiks - The Next Level off of Coast II Coast, 1995.
Features the name "Dick Buttkiss" which I have some bizarre memory of hearing as a child. The bassline and horns reminded me of the 80s a bit, but it has this sort of dark keyboard line layered over it to make so much more 90s. Goofy bravado fun times.



Tha Alkaholiks - Lalala off of Firewater, 2006.
The video gives a sort of retrospective of the band, and has lots of cameos from smiley-faced West Coast rappers (you can say hi to Xzibit again). The song is pretty sweet, but really its all about the flute sample for me.

....and while I'm on about flute samples:


Dilated Peoples ft. Kanye West - This Way off of Neighborhood Watch, 2004.

This is the song that started my West Coast late 90's - early 2000's adventures today. A real clapper jam, Kanye is great, looking so fresh-faced and polo'd. And there's an escalator to heaven at the end. And you'll feel really inspired.

Ideas for Gabbie's Party

Gabriela Augustinaitis asked me to help her think of a name for her upcoming 23rd birthday party. Here are a few ideas I had:

1. Gabriela's 40th Birthday Blowout!

2. Fabriela's Fabulous Fiesta!

3. Losing Your Virginity: a 17th birthday party.

4. Sacrificing Virgins: A 23 Part Series

5. Ritualistic Torture and the Politics of Cannibalism in the Industrial Age: A 23rd Birthday Party

6. Copying and Pasting: Not Just Another Repeat Birthday Party

7. Remember to Floss - It's My Birthday, After All: A Hygienic Tribute to the Life and Times of Gabriela Augustinaitis

8. A Hand Job to Remember

9. Everybody Evacuate the Building in a Calm and Orderly Fashion - This Party is Going to Blow.

10. Puttin' Bombs in Presents: Gabriela's 23rd Birthday/Death Party

11. The Roof is on Fire and Your Parents Never Loved You: Come On In, It's Gabbie's Birthday

12. Don't Be Annoying - I Only Have So Many Birthday's Left

13. Don't Be a Party Pooper, But Feel Free to Poop at the Party (if you need to.)

14. Gabriela turns XXIII!

15. Must Love Sequels: Gabbie's 23rd Birthday.

16. Nobody Gets Laid: Happy Birthday, Gabbie.

This House is Mostly Not on Fire

Today was a day started with waking up. I woke up and tried to talk and couldn't find my voice, and so I panicked and coughed and squealed until better. Then I collapsed back onto my pillow and undid what I had done when I woke up.

In an hour I'll be on my way to Ikea.

An hour ago I got home from the library and made myself a fried egg and bacon sandwich. To be honest I did a bad job frying the bacon, and cooked my egg over hard as opposed to over easy because I was feeling too lazy to monitor it.

I like talking about food because I feel like I can be sincere about it. Where I can't be sincere about anything else, otherwise the Russians will kill me.

seeeeeeee??????

Feelings. Feelings. Feelings.

Here are a few pictures that explain feelings.



Right now I'm feeling glum/sulky.



I wish I was hugging an animate page. Who wouldn't want to? I know who wouldn't want to - this chick. BECAUSE SHE ALREADY IS.

Now I'm feeling furious/engaged!!!!!!!



Jokes I immediately thought of about Kimochis:

1. Am I just some sort of kimochi to you???!!
2. I think getting a kimochi is second base...I think.



This man is not happy to be holding a babby. The babby is happy to be held. Maybe this is the problem with the world.
Or that we see babby's as kimochis.

Or maybe babby's aren't kimochis and we think they are so the man is unhappy because he just realized the tiny human he is holding is only a feeling-less automaton, and really he just wants a toy with feelings inside.

I wonder at what point tiny humans get their first Feelings software installed. I'd say around age 3. Everything before that is just hunger and trapped gas.



This tiny human is trying out her new FeelingWare update. New Update includes:
-Happy Feelings
-Saucy Feelings
-Hot Dog Eating Preparation Face
-and Slightly Perturbed!

I'm actually beta testing some new software, and I've been really enjoying playing around with the Horny Feeling and Punch-Bitches-in-Face feeling. Still needs some bugs sorted out because sometimes you get horny and punch yourself in the face.


I think I should stop talking about software and gadgets because it's really obvious at this point that I don't know enough software lingo to adequately make jokes about it.

I know a few really good jokes about the smoking points of oils, though. Whooooowheeee!



Goddamm!!

What did the skillet say to the Olive Oil when it reached 375 degrees?

Oh baby, you're so hot...you're smoking!!


Ok bye.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the fifth day.

I WANNA COW!

I Want a DUCK. DO you people understand??? I know nothing. I fail on computers, Pleeeezzzz give me a DUCK!!!!!

it's not poop. it's a bee hive

I don't know how to make a duck - but i wold love to. i love ducks! i also agree with the cow. they should definitely do more animals.

There's a piece of poo, but I don't know how to make it.

I WANNA COW, DUCK, AN GECKO!!!!!! lol

i think there should be a frog and a cow and a i wanna know how to make a pice of poo.

i think there should be more animals and others

cool.... i can make the devil!!!! it really works:

here is my poop

wow u all r awkward ... who cares about poop i hhavta ipck it up outside after my dog..andmy cat..and my hamster AGH@!!!!

how do u make a creasent moon?

why isn't there an angel face!? I know all of these..but where the hell is the angel face???

cool and the monkey :(:) no wait thats a pig!!!!!

srry 2 all u bee luvrs out ther, but i agree with "Me"

cheasous crised you guyes get a life you say the same things the poop is what is the cow just cool down sit back in you chair and do nothing but think for a minute some people are lying face it the angel is ooo<>ooo yeah right no it is not i tryed it before get a grip go out side climb a tree walk to the park dont just sit next to the computer come on you will one day use glasses so thik just to see a capital letter if you carry on

Hey Everyone Forgot about the (devil)= }:)


NONE OF THESE WORK! CAN U GUYS SHUT UP PLEASE! I AM TRYING TO DO A PROJECT FOR SCHOOL ON EMOTICONS AND IT IS VERY DIFFICULT WHEN EVERYTHING I FIND IS A LIE. U ALL R LOZERS? WHY DO YOU SPEND UR TIME DOING THIS? I BET YOU THAT SOME OF YOU OUT THERE ON THIS SITE READING THIS ARE ADULTS! GET A LIFE! GO DO SOMETHING REAL FOR ONCE! INSTEAD OF SITTING ON YOUR BUTT! I LIVE IN PARIS, FRANCE AND I HAVE TO ADMIT I DON'T GET OUT TO MUCH, I GO OUT LIKE 2 TIMES A WEEK BUT I HAVE SCHOOL ALSO TO DEAL WITH AND HOMEWORK, SO MY EXCUSE MAKES SINCE. YOU ALLLLL NEED LIFES. AND THAT IS THAT.

Keeping the Romance Alive When Entering the Fire of Hades (That Toast Shit)

this is the way you work a toaster
When properly worked, the toaster will return the favor
and work for you.

First, we should discuss how toasters came to be.
it is always important to start at the very beginning.
AT THE VERY BEGINNING
now if you can't sort this out you'll never get-
START AT THE BEGINNING!

for starters, people have been lighting bread on fire for years.
many toast skeptics wonder if we're even covering new ground.
oh Jean-Claude zee Americanz zink zey are so clever wif
zer bread caramlezing machinerrey!
Zer stupidity is zo zo charming!

The invention of bread dates back to the invention of beer.
The two walk hand in hand.
The yeast eaters, we calls them.
Actually we don't call them that because that isn't even right
and as a poet I'm not responsible for science.

The first instance of toast happened in the year 3047 Before Crust when a young boy left his sprouted grain bread between two hot slabs of rock. Young Logi figured his lunch would be ruined, but he loved his snack instead.
He topped it with grape jelly and feasted.

to this day, you too, even you, even you and your dumbass
can manage to scramble up some toast.
First you must prepare your sacrifice.

I recommend sliced bread
but
many cultures have used other articles for toasting
for 10's of 100's of years.
Speaking of which, this should be a communal event.
Gather your family and neighbors around the hearth for the toasting.
Hold hands.
Use this time to tell stories and exchange cultural values and norms.
Get to know the farmers who grow your food, so you can look them in the eye
and say
"Do you use pesticides? Well, punk, do ya?"

Now that you've prepared the sacrifice and gathered your social support system around you,
it is now time to plug in the toaster.
Do this quickly as to not irritate the spirits that live in the space between the outlet and the outside world.
This liminal space is their home and it deserves respect.

Oh god, I'm so sick of writing about toast now.
The toast muse
(if there depressingly enough is such a thing)
has certainly left me.
I've gotta wrap this shit up quiiiiiick.

oksowhatever, you plugged in your toaster, wooptydoo.
Now the electrical current flows in a figure 8 pattern down the cord
where it gets let in through the gate by the gatekeeper.

His name is Charles.

so Charles is like "hey, I guess you can come in"
and the current says "thanks Charles!"
At this point, put in your bread, and apply 2-5 lbs of pressure on the lever.
this signals the electrical current to light a cigarette.
And that is how it gets toasted.

Things to look out for and general troubleshooting:
1. Moist bread - allow your bread to dry slightly before toasting.
2. A cranky Charles - make sure to clean out the crumb tray regularly. It is his home.
3. Getting so bored with talking about toast
4. That you don't want to keep going
5. To keep the romance alive, try a variety of toppings.

And that is all you'll ever need to know about toast.

Social Interactions Make Me Feel Oooky Inside

but not always.
if anything i've been the sort of kid who is good at talking and yammering away.
but when you see someone who
1. you haven't seen in awhile, and
2. you only ever sort of knew them and
3. you have nothing to talk about with them and
4.they're standing in line for coffee and you're coming back from the bathroom
5. you're dressed exceptionally silly today and they may or may not think it's cool but it's always hard to know for sure because you never really knew them very well

now, as a kid i could just walk by this person and not say hi to them or say hi to them and the full implications of my whim wouldn't really be considered by them because, hell, i'm just a kid.
but now that I'm supposed to be some asshole grown-up, social choices matter a lot more.

i feel like i never knew anything about social anxiety until this past year.
before that i was just always weird so i could do whatever i liked and people generally thought i was okay.
now its like omgholyshit it really does matter what i say.

and i've noticed that grown ups suck at talking often too. i never noticed that before - there were just some people i liked talking to and others that i didn't, and i would just not talk to the people i didn't like talking to. now i get stuck talking to people all the time, and notice that they aren't very good at it and i'm far too a-d-d for this convo.

such as, like, i was at a bridal shower recently and this lady sat next to me. she was about my mom's age. we start talking to each other, getting to small talk first base, and i ask her how she knows blah-blah-blah, and she says "oh, i'm blah-blah-blahs mother." and i'm like, "whoooa, really?" because this lady looked way too young to be blah-blah-blah's mom. then she's all like:

"oh wait, no i'm sorry. i'm blah-blah-blah's sister. i mean, wait, no, i'm blah-blah-blah's friend." in reaction to her, i presume my face looked kinda judg-ey at this point, because she looked a bit pained. she sighed then explained "i mean, we're just so close that sometimes i think of us as sisters."

"yeah right" i thought to myself. "you just got all tongue-tango-tied ms. lady. and that's kind of okay..in fact, i guess i prefer it to you having a really normal conversation with me. because if it was normal then i wouldn't have this cool story for my blog."

moving right along, though.
if you manage to snag a human into conversation with you, it presents different problems. i think we need more effective ways to get out of conversation.

1. there's the classy "i'm a cold-hearted british person" method of just nodding and saying "excuse me", which is a way of saying "i have to go investigate the impropriety of my daughter's actions who i haven't seen since she last eloped with some ruffian-hooligan half-assed Jane Austen pseudo-villain."

2. that seems like a pretty cool thing to do.

3a. but the problem with that is you really have to have an urgent thing to go do.
3b.what if you just want to not talk to this person anymore simply because you ran out of material, not because you hate them? nor because you have anything better to do?
you could just say something like "oh, i'm going to go mingle with other people." which at least is straight-forward, but what if you run into each other again? then it's like "oh hi, here i am still mingling with you. i thought i was going to go be somebody. instead i suck and went nowhere. sigh."

4. then there's the classic "drag other people into the conversation technique."

PERSON 1 (getting sick of the convo at this point because they have nothing interesting to say): oh yes, haha, (cough cough) that is very interesting indeed.
PERSON 2(also really have nothing else to say): yes, i think so as well. hmm...lalala.
PERSON 1: yup.
PERSON 2: haha
(PERSON 3, UNSUSPECTING FOOL, WALKS BY SIPPING A GIN N' TONIC MINDING THEIR OWN GODDAM BUSINESS)
PERSON 1: ohhh, person 3! we were just talking about something that would interest you!
PERSON 3: ohhhhhh...were you? (??)
PERSON 1: yes, we were talking about how interesting muskrat feces are.
AND BAM.
person 1 & 2 now have a new companion to ease the strain of the conversation ending, hopefully adding interesting material, and maybe giving 1 or 2 a chance to slip away.

i personally use this technique frequently and am a real fan. mostly because people don't catch on to what you're doing (which is playing real person checkers, in which you get to be a king and hop over people) and just think you're trying to help them get to know people.

5. then there's always the old "omg i need to get another drink/bathroom/cellphone/scratch my head/change my contacts/wrap a present/lock my keys in my car/find my purse/open a box/close a box/change a lightbulb/buy a new toothbrush/feed a fish"
which then gives you an opportunity to slip away - act like you're embarking on a task - but really strike up conversation with someone more interesting, or at least give you alone time.
it's similar to the self-important british elopement method, except you have no mystery and generally sound retarded.

6. of course you could always just walk away.

7. or be unpleasant.

those are really all the ideas i have.

everythings guns

everythings guns
sticks are guns
knives
little tiny balloons
bread pudding is guns
dropping ice from a scoop into a cup is guns
everythings guns

the world is full of guns
bang bang
life is made of guns
tiny little guns
big fat guns
many many guns
big poppa guns
lady guns
itty bitty baby guns


a banana can be guns
a shoe
a fork
a laptop
a cellphone
a favorite gun is a piece of bread
anything is guns
everythings guns

pick up an item and give it a try:
pow pow pow
ptew ptew ptew
pop pop pop
so many guns
so.... so many
guns is all around us

i use my finger as a gun sometimes
thats a classic
flowers make a good one
a huge package of provolone cheese makes a good bazooka
a broomstick is a good choice too

there are some guns that are real guns
they are also guns
every living breathing thing is a guns

guns is what makes us breathe
guns is what makes us not breathe
here's a list of things which cannot be guns:
nothing.
everythings guns

Walking Poems: Poems Which Are Written While Walking

It's been a bit since I've posted some of my own stuff, though, super promise, I've been more poetically active now than I ever have been in my whole life. My whole life hasn't been that long though...by the way.

I've been busy with the The Sexy Poets Society readings and blogs, and have been writing a lot of stuff for that. But I decided I might as well post some shit up for the feeling of permanence and completion. And because, well, I think they're neat.

Since most of my poems that I've come to really love have been formed as I've been walking (which is interesting as well, since I can't really write and walk at the same time - have tried. so "forming" them as I walk is a little more accurate, in case you're the kind of douche-bag who really cares about that. end parenthetical statement now.) around town, or up to the university, or to the coffee shop, or to work, or to take a piss on the street outside my house, I've come to cherish them more, and enjoyed looking at the poems as artifacts of my day to day interactions. I can look back at them and remember whatever instance I was referring to in the poem, which more often than not is a rather small and insignificant instance.

Here's two recent walking poems that I read at the last SPS reading (I actually read four, but I only feel like typing up two), posted here for your reading and giggling pleasure. I like these two because the first selection is SUCH a walking poem, like it's screaming "DUH I'M OUT FOR A MOTHAFUCKIN' STROLL", and the second one doesn't seem to reveal it's creation platform whatsoever.

Walking Poem #1
It's winter, but it's not really winter
I think
looking at the brown grass poking above the thin snow
at Riverside
but what I'm really thinking about is how
the grass looks like my legs this time of year
which only happens in winter
because I'm ashamed or something
I tiptoe down the ice and think of
something cool to say
The tryptych on the tips of their lips
crisply whispers a cryptic kiss
but I'm really thinking about
the old man coming out of the
old city hall carrying a wicker
basket
I'd like to say he's hobbling on the cobblestones
but really he's walking
Cool picnic basket, bro. I think, literally.
I stop walking on the bridge
and pull out my notebook to write this down
And that's where we're at now.

While writing this I received
2 phone calls:
1 from my mom which I ignored
1 from Brett Cimbalik which went straight to voicemail
for some reason
but I called him back
and then finished writing this poem

Walking Poem #2: Written on Sticky Notes Which is a Bad Idea
Do you really think you can
hold me accountable when
I don't know what the
I don't know what the
I don't know what the
I don't know what the
I don't know what the
FUCK I'm doing?
this android lieutenant
would like to be briefed on our mission, sir.
Mostly classified, lieutenant.
But sir, my lack of knowledge may compromise the mission!
I said MOSTLY classified lieutenant. Have a seat.
How familiar are you with the star system
Clapametheus?
Why, only in legend, bedtime stories, sir.
Well all I can tell you is that this ship
will be landing on the mother planet, Grugathon,
in the star system Clapametheus in 2 nanolightseconds.
Egads! Pardon me, but that sounds out right fantastical!
Fantastic doesn't even cut it, Lieutenant.
We'll be seeing sights that would stop the hearts
of most 4, 6 & 8 chambered beings.
Sights that android, para-android,
mammal & Flagrant Beasties
can't even imagine. But more
than the glittering fields or the purple skylines
or segmented crystal waterfalls -
in the star system Clapametheus lies our
last hope.
It's the last frontier, Lieutenant. (sigh)
In Clapametheus, the children of Abraham make
their final resting place. Oh, but
unfortunately 2 nanolightseconds is long since over
and I'll have to power you off for the descent,
Lieutenant.
But, but, power me off?
When will I be turned on again?
I too must see Clapametheus!
Sometime, Lieutenant, sometime.

And all became black.
I'm lost and unsure who this
disembodied voice narrating is.
Am I alive still?
Will I ever open my metal eyes and input the last hope?
Will I ever walk the shores of Clapametheus?
I am the loneliest android.

Thoughts during "On A Highway" by Animal Collective

4 minutes and 36 second will have gone by by the time this is finished.
First the oceand little bumps skirt around with no idea for life and the circumstances that are not really all that forboding when you think about it right..heyyy anyone want a pencil?
You are the scariest little piece of hometown magic I've ever touched.
Copenhagen? Nah, I seriously doubt it.
How did they find you? Did they see you on the mountain when you were flagging down what was left of the country? Flying by inside a periscope?
Sometimes sentences are too long.
Some sentences are too short.
Most sentences are manifested in some way.
Thats a relatively safe assertion.

Silence for a little while. Maybe because I'm really excited about what the song is doing right now and lots of little voices tittling around for awhile. Jumbling around and I wonder if I should fix typos.
Not because they're such a linguistic fascination, but because I feel its sort of insincere to the exercise.
God I wish i was in a different country now. I wish I was in a small village and I had a garden.
I would sell vegetables from this garden on the side of the road.
And I would make scarves. I would make scarves from the wool from the sheeps from the neighbors that live a mile down the road from me and my garden.
And maybe my husband could work in the town, or maybe he could work at home. But we could go on walks in the dark at night and splash in the river.

And now, a word from our sponsors:

It's official: The UK loves Shapes most of all. I get at least 200 hits a day from people googling Shapes from the UK.

I don't deserve to be awake right now. I'm tired, I drank a lot, my tummy wants food, and I can't sleep.
But all I have is cheesecake right now.
It's like I keep accidentally spoiling myself rotten, and I'm not particularly pleased with it, but if it were any other way I'd feel like I was missing out.

Is this what being in your 20s is all about?

A little snippet of Kenneth 'cause this is my mood right now:


from "To My Twenties"
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?

My roommate just said "Congratuacheesecake." I suppose I deserve that.

After my roommate said that, and I typed that, I started watching light reflecting off of my hair in the glare of my laptop.
I don't like looking at exclamation points when I'm tired and hungover.
Such as like, this pains me:
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is what I say when I see that:
"OMG STOP JUMPING ON THAT DAMN TRAMPOLINE AND SCREAMING ABOUT SEX YOU DAMN KIDS."
but really? There's no trampoline - there's just lines and dots, okay? Lines and dots. Chew that one up and digest it. MFin' lines and dots.

Maybe I need to start knowing more intrepid young adventurers.

To fill you in on what just happened: I wrote the above sentence, looked at it disgruntled, and then wandered into the kitchen and ate a leftover half-piece of cheesecake. Matt and I know what we're doing with that cheesecake. Congratuacheesecake, everyone.
So I ate that, then I watched this girl wandering around outside of our neighboring apartment builiding. The building is about 20 feet away from our kitchen window so too many private experiences are shared. But she was wandering around with her white comforter over her head and obviously unsure of what she should be doing with it. Get your shit together, I said to her through the window. What are you doing with it? You're wandering back and forth. You're a mess, and EVERYONE is watching you. Everybody knows that you're just wandering around with a fluffy comforter over your head, probably hung-0ver. I wasn't sure if she was going to go picnic and lie down on it,or if she was throwing it in the dumpster. Eventually she flung it over what's left of an old laundry line, clumsily and sadly. Then she kept peeking under it, maybe to check for tiny monsters.
Gretchen: "Oh! she must be German."
Theresa: "Because she needs to figure her shit out?"
Gretchen: "No, Germans air out their comforters a lot."
See, I guess that makes sense.
I'm just crotchety and over-stimulated. If I can't handle someone airing out their comforter, I don't think I could handle intrepid young adventurers. At least not yet.

Queueueueueueueueueueueueueue - interesting point, eh?

Janet, who I'm talking with over the World Wide Web, just said this:
mmmm No, but I don't live with any Brits so our food is generally "international". Do steer clear of the Kipper though. Beware the Kipper! Oh it is soo not worth it. gag.

I believe she might be right.

It's amazing how many things I can do within one blog post:
-Berate neighbors
-Eat cheesecake
-Bitch about exclamation points
-Bitch about British cuisine
-Talk to a friend in another country
-Talk to two roommates
-Take headache medicine
-Half-heartedly wash a few dishes
-Read Kenneth Koch
-Feel hungry


Well I'd say this about wraps up this episode of "The Ornery Ponderings of HangOverVille: Theresa Blogs Instead of Sleeps." I've had a wonderful time, and I hope you have too. See you next week!

Preliminary Reports Suggest Results to be Lamer Than Facebook Projected

It's not that I don't think about my poems, its just that I'll lose my nerve if I don't have a five minute turn around from inspiration to creation. The difference between thinking and thinking hard is propaganda. NAZI propaganda - the only kind there is.



Well I don't know about you but I'd rather end this conversation midsentence. before I make any tumbling errors in brevity or start talking about nature or some shit like a big faker whose words don't flow as quick as they could so instead they
stop and quiver before writing their words and shake out a few more syllables from their pen and hope that no one has noticed
what A BIG FAKER they are but it's ok.
It's hard to put this stuff together sometimes so relax. baby there are other scraps
to chew on and more morsels to remember at just the right moment before you finally drop your hands
and lean in for the most memorable kiss of your life.
Trust me. We'll remind you. about it.
Couldn't forget if we tried like a bunch of assholes sitting around waiting for the biggest chili cook-off ever to get going. No No Stevenson, the hot chilis go over there. God what an asshole.
Maybe we should just go sneak off for a quick cuddle.



The fall is so lovely this time of year.
I got a 10$ traffic ticket from the city of Ypsilanti. I wrote 1/3 of a poem on the envelope they gave me. Should I mail it in that way? It's like fighting the man, but in a really lame way.

Here's a list of things that I'm not doing right now:
-Sitting inside of an infrared sauna
-Listening to Kurt Cobain talk
-Pretending I'm from the Middle Ages
-Eating noodles
-Licking a dictionary
-Wearing an orange bandanna
-Fighting big time crime in a little city
-Writing a poem on the back of a parking ticket
-Sweating

Can you guess what I'm doing right now??