multicoloured flashes
green blue lightning
strangers ogle, waitresses gush
lucky me
I bask all day
puts a stupid grin
on me;
the irony is that
wherever you gaze we
see the
brilliance only
you can't see.
(and mirrors aren't the same)
6/24/2007
6/23/2007
I was on hiatus...
...due to extreme happiness. Just gimme couple seconds, ok
To tide you over...
8 forthcoming certainties:
To tide you over...
8 forthcoming certainties:
- After a comet passes less than 5,000 miles from the Northern hemisphere, Texas will self-replicate, somewhere in Europe. Cowboys who speak French will no longer be shot at.
- Small toads will get together and discuss ways to become even smaller. They will marvel at nearby grasshoppers, who will spit at the toads and call them whores.
- Light switches will finally get together and demand that we stop tickling them.
- The number of dogs in the world will fluctuate wildly after the International Zoological Society redefines 'dog' as 'a four-legged creature too large to be hurled from a slingshot'.
- Madonna will finally declare war on Pakistan. Pakistan will lose horribly, and change its name to Rosie O'Donnell - a sad nation of defeated radical Islamic lesbians.
- The insanity is complete when all mucus is banned from airports, except for what can be placed in a clear re-sealable 90mL container.
- As global warming drenches coastal cities with rising floods, aqua-commuting will become increasingly sophisticated, resulting in advancements such as moisture-proof laptops, inkless newspapers and an underwater Starbucks.
- U2 will finally start to suck, after naming a future album Abraham Lincoln's Groovy Gettysburg Go-Go. Lincoln's ghost will haunt the band, driving Bono insane, until he begs the Edge to shoot him in a crowded theatre. In the same spirit Larry Mullen, Jr. will free Adam Clayton, who it turns out was an Irish slave who could not play the bass worth a lick.
6/11/2007
Feed the dragon #68
(until I think of something interesting...)
Marvellous minute in an ocean of crunk. Cut to Mr. Dressup and a copper-plated trunk. Puppets self-assemble and chatter over brunch. I've asked for strawberry banana and the robes of a monk. The brother sat down and began to whistle, rubbed my stubbled face until I would bristle, "Touch me not - I'm a model; this pose is for the magazine!" then I admitted to the doctor I'm allergic to tartrazine. Cheetos dropped from the sky like hydrogenated butterflies, but I'm a bee sting baby and dislike the honey hives...
Marvellous minute in an ocean of crunk. Cut to Mr. Dressup and a copper-plated trunk. Puppets self-assemble and chatter over brunch. I've asked for strawberry banana and the robes of a monk. The brother sat down and began to whistle, rubbed my stubbled face until I would bristle, "Touch me not - I'm a model; this pose is for the magazine!" then I admitted to the doctor I'm allergic to tartrazine. Cheetos dropped from the sky like hydrogenated butterflies, but I'm a bee sting baby and dislike the honey hives...
6/05/2007
15 more astonishing predictions
(just, because)
- Ann Coulter's new book, This is How to Skin a Cat, will receive horrible reviews.
- A reality tv show Communist Stars will feature Danny DeVito, aka the red dwarf.
- Anthropologists in Montreal will argue that the invention of the wheel was merely a fortunate by-product of primitive man's repeated failed attempts to invent the bagel.
- The Association of Fast-Food Mascots will be sullied by scandal when Grimace steps forward and admits to being proof that, yes, your face will stay that way.
- Clothes hooks and hangers will be obsolete with the discovery of self-levitating clothes. In turn, self-levitating clothes will be obsolete with the discovery of clothes that leave the house on their own and go to the office for you, allowing everyone to stay at home and make sweet sweet love.
- Nutritionists will announce that 85 percent of the average person's recommended daily allowance of niacin can be found in fiery car crashes. However, saner heads will point out that car crashes far exceed the RDA of brain shrapnel, causing nutritionists to back away from their prior claim, to the relief of everyone.
- Mortuaries will - unsurprisingly - tip their hand in the abortion debate, when the Association of Undertakers says that all women should have the right to an abortion, as long as all fetuses have the right to a funeral.
- Science will achieve a new low, after an apparently useless multi-million-dollar study is released which proves that being peed on by a camel causes hiccups. This discovery forges an unlikely alliance among scientists, the Christian Right and Middle Eastern camel breeders — after a further study proves that hiccups cure atheism.
- Another study will show that violence among teenagers is not caused by video games. Conversely, video-game violence will be inextricably linked to video-game designing adults who were violent as children, teenagers, and adults.
- Procrastination will reach epidemic proportions, when 'a stitch in time' is revealed to save nothing at all — because Velcro has become mandatory.
- PETA will once again protest the signs of the Zodiac, and achieve a small victory when 'Aquarius' agrees to change its name to 'Aquarium.' Unfortunately for the animal rights organization, goldfish will then be hunted to extinction.
- Antitrust legislators will rule against God's dominion over heaven and Earth, citing an unfair monopoly. God will phone Bill Gates to seek commiseration, but Bill Gates will be unsympathetic, and hang up. God will smite Bill Gates with Microsoft Vista.
- Savvy bakeries will get out of the breadmaking business, and go into the perfume business selling bread-scented lines. Calvin Klein will latch onto this crossover notion, open a bakery and make a killing selling loaves of bread that taste like Elle Macpherson.
- Archaeological evidence reveals that one of the marvels of the Ancient World 'jumped the shark' back in 1350 BC, when in an attempt to appeal to the youth demographic, the Sphinx stopped asking its famous riddles and simply queried Egyptian passersby with the rather unchallenging 'Do you know what the Sphinx is cooking?'
- Lobe-nibbling lovers will become understandably paranoid - at the same time, marketers of nacho chips to cannibals will leap for joy - after Oprah proclaims that human ears dipped in salsa are simply delicious.
6/04/2007
We are hard won
(best writer's block you ever had - enjoy it)
We wear
bloody battle fatigues
best dressed
in symmetry
you and me, writing history
wildasimaginable fantasy and
extraordinary reality
Never had much to say
but always had the
flair to say it
got my attention now
don't know quite how to say
but it's time I
I took the time to pay it so
today it's
let me catch breath
air my bones
after my hall of fame home run
away from home and
unplugged phone
I ran a month-long marathon to tell you that
we won we won we won
happiness shrivelled the
sighs upon the
laptop, yammering
fighting not to mix up ecstasy
with pop
but sweetness + fizz is everywhere and
I'm a pig for slop
so, indeed
why stop
?
Silence
submerged in the brain
for years shouting over rain
now silence
brought by this
bliss
bursting at the keys
gravy
on our knees
waiting, oh
till sky clears
poems appear
content blares
pelican man cheers
and ms. rhythm despairs
the cupcakes —Jesus, for all they are
they're what they are and
they are half-baked to
please us
We wear
bloody battle fatigues
best dressed
in symmetry
you and me, writing history
wildasimaginable fantasy and
extraordinary reality
Never had much to say
but always had the
flair to say it
got my attention now
don't know quite how to say
but it's time I
I took the time to pay it so
today it's
let me catch breath
air my bones
after my hall of fame home run
away from home and
unplugged phone
I ran a month-long marathon to tell you that
we won we won we won
happiness shrivelled the
sighs upon the
laptop, yammering
fighting not to mix up ecstasy
with pop
but sweetness + fizz is everywhere and
I'm a pig for slop
so, indeed
why stop
?
Silence
submerged in the brain
for years shouting over rain
now silence
brought by this
bliss
bursting at the keys
gravy
on our knees
waiting, oh
till sky clears
poems appear
content blares
pelican man cheers
and ms. rhythm despairs
the cupcakes —Jesus, for all they are
they're what they are and
they are half-baked to
please us
5/29/2007
I am the phoenix
(proudly blurring lines between weirdness and boredom since 2004)
I am the phoenix (previously unreleased excerpt)
I am the phoenix tonight. I rise from the ash into the light. Evanescent and intransigent, my aura is smoke and incense, split between the perfect geometry of stars, mixed through the last particle.
Do not fear; I have come at last. You were promised—I will take you on my shoulders.
You were warned it would be me.
Listen to the talk below, behind the closed doors of the sordid inn. Sprawling limbs soak up spilled ale. Men in soiled coats listen for the end of the world.
It has taken much to come together, but this will last forever. We look into our innermost reasons, and we are set on fire. Around insane beggars and destroyed egos, we come to cleanse. To be reborn.
But we fail to respond. There is an indecision. I am stolen.
All I can promise is sympathy, not action. For now I am weak, but I will be strong again.
I hear the call every day, but I forget; I lose myself in its clarity.
The poisons are many, and the antidote is a fiction—it cannot be found. We dissolve ourselves into waters surrounding the mountain; we slave in dark anonymous caves. But there is not futility able to keep at bay the phoenix.
I rise above.
This is not the end of days, though night does fall, and the logic of blackness is
smothering.
We dress for the moment; we are ready at the moment’s notice.
Into infinity we charge on silver lightning, into the end of cause and effect, of unfeeling order, to the breach between world and dream.
“Stop the smallest man forever from lunging after death!”
We are conceived in a quicksilver flash—and I am the phoenix. I am the exploding sun, and the red and white light is blinding.
I am the phoenix (previously unreleased excerpt)
I am the phoenix tonight. I rise from the ash into the light. Evanescent and intransigent, my aura is smoke and incense, split between the perfect geometry of stars, mixed through the last particle.
Do not fear; I have come at last. You were promised—I will take you on my shoulders.
You were warned it would be me.
Listen to the talk below, behind the closed doors of the sordid inn. Sprawling limbs soak up spilled ale. Men in soiled coats listen for the end of the world.
It has taken much to come together, but this will last forever. We look into our innermost reasons, and we are set on fire. Around insane beggars and destroyed egos, we come to cleanse. To be reborn.
But we fail to respond. There is an indecision. I am stolen.
All I can promise is sympathy, not action. For now I am weak, but I will be strong again.
I hear the call every day, but I forget; I lose myself in its clarity.
The poisons are many, and the antidote is a fiction—it cannot be found. We dissolve ourselves into waters surrounding the mountain; we slave in dark anonymous caves. But there is not futility able to keep at bay the phoenix.
I rise above.
This is not the end of days, though night does fall, and the logic of blackness is
smothering.
We dress for the moment; we are ready at the moment’s notice.
Into infinity we charge on silver lightning, into the end of cause and effect, of unfeeling order, to the breach between world and dream.
“Stop the smallest man forever from lunging after death!”
We are conceived in a quicksilver flash—and I am the phoenix. I am the exploding sun, and the red and white light is blinding.
5/24/2007
O'Hare airport
(4 cups of coffee into my trip home)
This is not a good idea
O true worship, O man of length, the strength I gave was never spent.
If persons black were lent a noose, so I could I clear my name, the effect was cursory; I never was the same. Poems black as clouds, shave the faces of the proud. Othello was my cousin, I carried his sword and dagger, I walked in shadows until I reached the cliff of the great green adder. "This is Sunday morning showdown," and the walls shook like spiderwebs. I heaved at smoke and breathed in cellar dust, wrote encyclopedia entries for acid and rust.
She wore a cloak of silk atop her oiled golden tan. A frog and a gazelle traded jokes in Hindustan. I would calculate with simpletons; they crowned me Foxy Beast. Now insomniacs contribute to my pot of charity, it was explosive death I traded in — it was mindless liberty.
I dig for hours before I find the straighter line, open cans of worms and evaporate the brine. I wonder 'what will come?' but it's hours late, I looked up words like 'jaunty' 'facade' and 'defenestrate'.
If cobras could combine into a mild lamb, if pomegranates sprang like diamonds from my hand - why I'd spit out choreography and smile at the moon. I'd drink mudslides in the hammock and name my firstborn daughter June.
I call you contradiction I call you labyrinth, I call you late for dinner with an absinthe after dinner mint. I'd drink ovations with a monk and we'd scan the crossword pages, I'd make a pact with Lady Silver, and her first cousins, the Sages.
Collect a few fragments, polish them a bit, point them at the ocean and then be done with it. That's better than most, who obsess with spelling, grammar, father son and holy host.
I'm winding down and that's what makes me glow. I hammer till I shiver, live on love, process grief through my wretched liver. I can breathe now. I always knew this, but did not know how.
I loved many but insufficiently, never a soul completely, until we ate street meat at Queen and Spadina on Saturday evening. Lady, treat me as your lord, slave, lover, knave, lad, brave mad sad king. I have nothing except you - and I will give you everything.
This is not a good idea
O true worship, O man of length, the strength I gave was never spent.
If persons black were lent a noose, so I could I clear my name, the effect was cursory; I never was the same. Poems black as clouds, shave the faces of the proud. Othello was my cousin, I carried his sword and dagger, I walked in shadows until I reached the cliff of the great green adder. "This is Sunday morning showdown," and the walls shook like spiderwebs. I heaved at smoke and breathed in cellar dust, wrote encyclopedia entries for acid and rust.
She wore a cloak of silk atop her oiled golden tan. A frog and a gazelle traded jokes in Hindustan. I would calculate with simpletons; they crowned me Foxy Beast. Now insomniacs contribute to my pot of charity, it was explosive death I traded in — it was mindless liberty.
I dig for hours before I find the straighter line, open cans of worms and evaporate the brine. I wonder 'what will come?' but it's hours late, I looked up words like 'jaunty' 'facade' and 'defenestrate'.
If cobras could combine into a mild lamb, if pomegranates sprang like diamonds from my hand - why I'd spit out choreography and smile at the moon. I'd drink mudslides in the hammock and name my firstborn daughter June.
I call you contradiction I call you labyrinth, I call you late for dinner with an absinthe after dinner mint. I'd drink ovations with a monk and we'd scan the crossword pages, I'd make a pact with Lady Silver, and her first cousins, the Sages.
Collect a few fragments, polish them a bit, point them at the ocean and then be done with it. That's better than most, who obsess with spelling, grammar, father son and holy host.
I'm winding down and that's what makes me glow. I hammer till I shiver, live on love, process grief through my wretched liver. I can breathe now. I always knew this, but did not know how.
I loved many but insufficiently, never a soul completely, until we ate street meat at Queen and Spadina on Saturday evening. Lady, treat me as your lord, slave, lover, knave, lad, brave mad sad king. I have nothing except you - and I will give you everything.
5/19/2007
Scribbles from Austin
6th Street scene, me like a Wallflower, if I sang; if I lived in Texas I'd have to form my own gang. High heeled blondies, beefy baby boys with hair like Capote. Downtown paradise, await my moment on stage, fly gleefully with wireless, love Texas accents, have a cute stress recorder, it's so much like Tronno.
Stevie Ray Vaughan stetson wings on a river with bronze string. Lutists, artists like a lootbag, sweaty boys whiz, caffeine squeeze like oj, scabs on rock hard abs and mexican lime soda fizz, enchilada pigs. We snatch signals on a cafe patio, Austin to Boston, coffee and toffee, mosh pit mania and dirt trail llamas, I segue, the Segways on the sidealk, gawk, talk how silly and sinister two-wheeled half-cocked automobile replacements — I'm sipping mocha warm and sultry 5 feet 9 from the pavement.
And it's bubbly and outlandish, there's Barbie everywhere - can I help but stare? [Oh don't think I'm in trouble, my lady don't berate; she's so much more lovely and we quiver as we wait.] Fair hair here and there — got that oblivious aristocratic 'my city — built by slaves' air.
And this afternoon I'm a buffoon. I'm on stage soon. We want gold for Canada, to celebrate the loon.
Stevie Ray Vaughan stetson wings on a river with bronze string. Lutists, artists like a lootbag, sweaty boys whiz, caffeine squeeze like oj, scabs on rock hard abs and mexican lime soda fizz, enchilada pigs. We snatch signals on a cafe patio, Austin to Boston, coffee and toffee, mosh pit mania and dirt trail llamas, I segue, the Segways on the sidealk, gawk, talk how silly and sinister two-wheeled half-cocked automobile replacements — I'm sipping mocha warm and sultry 5 feet 9 from the pavement.
And it's bubbly and outlandish, there's Barbie everywhere - can I help but stare? [Oh don't think I'm in trouble, my lady don't berate; she's so much more lovely and we quiver as we wait.] Fair hair here and there — got that oblivious aristocratic 'my city — built by slaves' air.
And this afternoon I'm a buffoon. I'm on stage soon. We want gold for Canada, to celebrate the loon.
5/11/2007
rhyming as sleep aid
(a week with no words - wakes you up at 2am with itchy fingers)
After midnight with no one around
the wolves are silent, well profound
atop a mountain, climbing down
to the heart of an ocean underground
what sleep may come with a beating drum
nobody now to rub my tum
lie on the floor and pray for sun
when morning makes you run
the glow persists, vigil screen
too old to pretend to scream
no nightmare pillows, it's you I dream
and plunder what it means.
O fog sit thick atop my brow
tired bones beat back the drowse
warm words rock me gently now
[I see no point asking how.]
After midnight with no one around
the wolves are silent, well profound
atop a mountain, climbing down
to the heart of an ocean underground
what sleep may come with a beating drum
nobody now to rub my tum
lie on the floor and pray for sun
when morning makes you run
the glow persists, vigil screen
too old to pretend to scream
no nightmare pillows, it's you I dream
and plunder what it means.
O fog sit thick atop my brow
tired bones beat back the drowse
warm words rock me gently now
[I see no point asking how.]
5/05/2007
Channel changing blues
(hey - by the end it starts to makes sense!)
Witness this
we words work wonders
deliberate misses, don’t strike the missus
“Today I was threatened with a baseball bat”
so I’ve been saving kisses, and I’m
done compensating with a kitty cat. I
switch too fast, hang on
get steam, make it last; we
oscillate, can’t let your logic penetrate – I don’t
have time for eventual comprehension
we have a seven-city tour of
the
septic tanks.
If you were exhausted like me
these little bits are plenty feed
so don’t choose, just beg
be satisfied, signals collide we sigh
don’t die yet, go on a diet
of fibrous thoughts, roughage regurgitated
for rectal rumination, when you
barely gather your carcass
after sweat and elation
victorious and arbitrary
competition is something scary on your
face and I’d
marry that face to mine
and await my bottle of wine
we circled that date
months in advance
and now I’m ready
done floggin’ the remote
or switching sides in my one-paddle boat;
let’s watch every program; I don’t interrupt.
[Although I might occasionally curse the sky and get up if
it’s one of those two-hour documentaries
on the history of the menstrual cup!]
Witness this
we words work wonders
deliberate misses, don’t strike the missus
“Today I was threatened with a baseball bat”
so I’ve been saving kisses, and I’m
done compensating with a kitty cat. I
switch too fast, hang on
get steam, make it last; we
oscillate, can’t let your logic penetrate – I don’t
have time for eventual comprehension
we have a seven-city tour of
the
septic tanks.
If you were exhausted like me
these little bits are plenty feed
so don’t choose, just beg
be satisfied, signals collide we sigh
don’t die yet, go on a diet
of fibrous thoughts, roughage regurgitated
for rectal rumination, when you
barely gather your carcass
after sweat and elation
victorious and arbitrary
competition is something scary on your
face and I’d
marry that face to mine
and await my bottle of wine
we circled that date
months in advance
and now I’m ready
done floggin’ the remote
or switching sides in my one-paddle boat;
let’s watch every program; I don’t interrupt.
[Although I might occasionally curse the sky and get up if
it’s one of those two-hour documentaries
on the history of the menstrual cup!]
5/04/2007
4/27/2007
I don't go to pieces without my puzzle:)
(effortless expression, stressless impressions)
Don't feel like incriminating myself
got nothing to write for another two weeks or so.
Besides I can't type when exhausted.
No more censors in this special patch of grass, it is shrinking, too many eyes, who else watching us as we light up in that drug nosed high. I need an artificial barrier, how else can I mix my batter? If you see me in a trance, do your best to flatter, it's better for the blog if we lie to each other. Be discreet with all these secrets which are uninteresting when passed around.
I've been working on my posture, practised deep breathing. I've worked on preparation, explanation, delegation, and no more self denial or flagellation. (btw eco-guilt is the new catholicism)
I've sharpened that sense of humour, yet I'm mostly gormless (great word); I've donated spare change to the homeless. I've never been a borrower. I've lived alone without a loan or begging for a bone but certainly never chose this loneness over any other. I've learned from Bruce Springsteen - the boss himself. "You do some sad sad things, when it's you you're trying to lose." So I've finally arrived, paid my dues. Just watch now, what I will do.
Don't feel like incriminating myself
got nothing to write for another two weeks or so.
Besides I can't type when exhausted.
No more censors in this special patch of grass, it is shrinking, too many eyes, who else watching us as we light up in that drug nosed high. I need an artificial barrier, how else can I mix my batter? If you see me in a trance, do your best to flatter, it's better for the blog if we lie to each other. Be discreet with all these secrets which are uninteresting when passed around.
I've been working on my posture, practised deep breathing. I've worked on preparation, explanation, delegation, and no more self denial or flagellation. (btw eco-guilt is the new catholicism)
I've sharpened that sense of humour, yet I'm mostly gormless (great word); I've donated spare change to the homeless. I've never been a borrower. I've lived alone without a loan or begging for a bone but certainly never chose this loneness over any other. I've learned from Bruce Springsteen - the boss himself. "You do some sad sad things, when it's you you're trying to lose." So I've finally arrived, paid my dues. Just watch now, what I will do.
4/19/2007
It spills over me
I'm whirlwinded, wallowing in highs. She sang swirlies, talks me over telescopic lines, I'm doing twirlies, this soundtrack never ceases, joy just abstract enough, satisfaction in that sensory vacuum, where everything heightens, this virtual stuff. It is tough. Yet it's the easiest thing, or so it's been, and still, it's hard, but "I don't mind hard work" and you'll agree. (I'm looking forward to our conversation, so we can end our purgatory.)
I've written lyrics for songs; didn't know my music though, and every note was wrong. Didn't know my strength, I'm sorry, I never lifted a finger. I let doubt fester; I let madness run rumour; I let simpletons shriek and drown out reason… and I let sadness linger.
I don't have time to gather arguments, rather be happy than right. I'm short on preamble, but I always fall back on the rhyming ramble. Amiability is a crutch; if you don't dare you don't win, and so I threw away my education because my mind was hollowing.
I didn't set out to break records for complexity - vexing with my book of photos, subversive against storytelling itself - though underlying everything, besides unlikelihood and improbability, is simple appreciation for the possibility of possibilities.
I've written lyrics for songs; didn't know my music though, and every note was wrong. Didn't know my strength, I'm sorry, I never lifted a finger. I let doubt fester; I let madness run rumour; I let simpletons shriek and drown out reason… and I let sadness linger.
I don't have time to gather arguments, rather be happy than right. I'm short on preamble, but I always fall back on the rhyming ramble. Amiability is a crutch; if you don't dare you don't win, and so I threw away my education because my mind was hollowing.
I didn't set out to break records for complexity - vexing with my book of photos, subversive against storytelling itself - though underlying everything, besides unlikelihood and improbability, is simple appreciation for the possibility of possibilities.
4/16/2007
What is anticipation?
"From this distance, I think I might love you.
I am beginning to hate this distance."
I am beginning to hate this distance."
4/12/2007
Have no doubt
(I want this to be talked about.)
Truly, I’m tizzied. Has it affected me? Certainly, since last week I’ve dreamt, not slept, swept and checked my countenance for cracks, carefully counted my steps and spent sweat, pain, laughter all spun together in this mind-churning infatuation with your brain.
And your name! I am ashamed; I have not yet said your name to you. All of the above has numbed my voicebox, a blow from which I can’t recover, and beyond my lyrics and drums, I do confess: I fear my rubber tongue.
And “Oh but reality,” the fingers wag, citing polysyllabic nonsensicalities, eventualities, uncertainties, contingencies, superstitions and fragilities:
For instance, it is true, we have not met. And do we both clean our apartments? Do we disdain four-legged pets? Do we like the mornings? And do we both eat meat??
I do, I love meat. I do. I’ll get my fill at our first meeting, with eyes that taste every inch of you. And I’ll call the banquet hall tomorrow, if you like what you see too.
But do not doubt the serene certainty in my insanity, surety in my naivete, Samsonlike strength in my devotion to this realism. Full of bull? Oh no. Ole!
Truly, I’m tizzied. Has it affected me? Certainly, since last week I’ve dreamt, not slept, swept and checked my countenance for cracks, carefully counted my steps and spent sweat, pain, laughter all spun together in this mind-churning infatuation with your brain.
And your name! I am ashamed; I have not yet said your name to you. All of the above has numbed my voicebox, a blow from which I can’t recover, and beyond my lyrics and drums, I do confess: I fear my rubber tongue.
And “Oh but reality,” the fingers wag, citing polysyllabic nonsensicalities, eventualities, uncertainties, contingencies, superstitions and fragilities:
For instance, it is true, we have not met. And do we both clean our apartments? Do we disdain four-legged pets? Do we like the mornings? And do we both eat meat??
I do, I love meat. I do. I’ll get my fill at our first meeting, with eyes that taste every inch of you. And I’ll call the banquet hall tomorrow, if you like what you see too.
But do not doubt the serene certainty in my insanity, surety in my naivete, Samsonlike strength in my devotion to this realism. Full of bull? Oh no. Ole!
4/05/2007
Backflips
(folks, we have arrived)
The written word is a funny thing.
I get the feeling you're
less sentimental than I
so you won't think twice
about me waxing
about how
important it is that
since I discovered your
existence I have resolved
to meet you
as soon as possible.
Oh I've been plotting suddenly
-and this is nothing like me-
and scheming,
every song selected
for maximum meaning
and melting of
your shivering hard diamond heart.
Call me a wacko
but a sliver of me
suspects
for the longest time
I've been writing
about you
-wacko, yes-
bet you didn't
know that
but here just now
I catch myself staring
at you
and reading you
in disbelief and
afraid to tell anyone
lest
they pinch me
and
I can't deny
this egocentric eccentricity
-so indulge me, please-
that if you were conjured
from poems
I've been writing for years
'Measuring the best of me,
awaiting her, clandestinely'
then it's nothing at all for me
to wait a bit longer.
I'll do what I have to.
Wait, yes.
When it's
blind love, Tom waits
But today I got my wish
and
will
see you soon enough
thanks to two unlikely cupids
and boy yeah now I'm being mushy and stupid and
be warned that
in person I tell shockingly horrendous puns!
The written word is a funny thing.
I get the feeling you're
less sentimental than I
so you won't think twice
about me waxing
about how
important it is that
since I discovered your
existence I have resolved
to meet you
as soon as possible.
Oh I've been plotting suddenly
-and this is nothing like me-
and scheming,
every song selected
for maximum meaning
and melting of
your shivering hard diamond heart.
Call me a wacko
but a sliver of me
suspects
for the longest time
I've been writing
about you
-wacko, yes-
bet you didn't
know that
but here just now
I catch myself staring
at you
and reading you
in disbelief and
afraid to tell anyone
lest
they pinch me
and
I can't deny
this egocentric eccentricity
-so indulge me, please-
that if you were conjured
from poems
I've been writing for years
'Measuring the best of me,
awaiting her, clandestinely'
then it's nothing at all for me
to wait a bit longer.
I'll do what I have to.
Wait, yes.
When it's
blind love, Tom waits
But today I got my wish
and
will
see you soon enough
thanks to two unlikely cupids
and boy yeah now I'm being mushy and stupid and
be warned that
in person I tell shockingly horrendous puns!
4/03/2007
Actual thoughts
(hardest to write down)
Dreaming of six things at once, occasionally erotic, ruing expression as the new running water. "Everybody wants the same thing." When I'm overcaffeinated and drunk I get strange results. Wake up in a thought clot, last night my eyes bloodshot, tearshot swearing and crying. Like a kid with a brand new toy; but I know I'll need a newer toy. I collect notions so I can liberate them.The other day I overheard myself thinking "How smart are we? Slightly less than he who can fully comprehend how smart we are, which means we have a lot to learn." I've been striving for sentences that enforce calmness. I could attach notes to people and places in my life, but thoughts in a vacuum have an obscene grace that make me shiver. Whom do I read these days? Oh no the discrepancy between where our minds want to go and the crude instruments around us. We all want to melt hearts. It's a test: how much can I bear embarrassing myself. If so many words could make you weak in the knees, I'm satisfied, tapping my baton behind curtains when the crowd's gone home, saying 'still got it'. 'Still got it' - but that proves what? An extra gear I've reached, what is it all tied back to neurotransmitters, all this hustle and bluster competing desires in a crowded cafe, flashes of potential for exceptional harmony, and I hear the miracle of the gregorian chant, submission to one note, take all these different people tell them 'sing this note and sing it well' yeah that's tougher than it looks. I don't sell myself well at all. If I did sell you on me I still wouldn't be sure that you're sold. So why bother with disappointment. Pioneers don't have time for applause or to dodge tomatoes. Mad Max in the desert trying to keep one or two loyal friends. Remember in Owen Meany, they practise the jump for the entire book? And the meaning came crashing down? But John Irving cheats because he knows how it will end. Not really a writer but a problem solver working on his next contingency, making lemonade from lemons. If I told you mixing drinks is what this blog is about, that it's based on fermentation and yeast, or whatever. Do you know what beer is? It's yeast shit. It's not something I would ever choose for myself ie expression as an addiction but there we have it.
Dreaming of six things at once, occasionally erotic, ruing expression as the new running water. "Everybody wants the same thing." When I'm overcaffeinated and drunk I get strange results. Wake up in a thought clot, last night my eyes bloodshot, tearshot swearing and crying. Like a kid with a brand new toy; but I know I'll need a newer toy. I collect notions so I can liberate them.The other day I overheard myself thinking "How smart are we? Slightly less than he who can fully comprehend how smart we are, which means we have a lot to learn." I've been striving for sentences that enforce calmness. I could attach notes to people and places in my life, but thoughts in a vacuum have an obscene grace that make me shiver. Whom do I read these days? Oh no the discrepancy between where our minds want to go and the crude instruments around us. We all want to melt hearts. It's a test: how much can I bear embarrassing myself. If so many words could make you weak in the knees, I'm satisfied, tapping my baton behind curtains when the crowd's gone home, saying 'still got it'. 'Still got it' - but that proves what? An extra gear I've reached, what is it all tied back to neurotransmitters, all this hustle and bluster competing desires in a crowded cafe, flashes of potential for exceptional harmony, and I hear the miracle of the gregorian chant, submission to one note, take all these different people tell them 'sing this note and sing it well' yeah that's tougher than it looks. I don't sell myself well at all. If I did sell you on me I still wouldn't be sure that you're sold. So why bother with disappointment. Pioneers don't have time for applause or to dodge tomatoes. Mad Max in the desert trying to keep one or two loyal friends. Remember in Owen Meany, they practise the jump for the entire book? And the meaning came crashing down? But John Irving cheats because he knows how it will end. Not really a writer but a problem solver working on his next contingency, making lemonade from lemons. If I told you mixing drinks is what this blog is about, that it's based on fermentation and yeast, or whatever. Do you know what beer is? It's yeast shit. It's not something I would ever choose for myself ie expression as an addiction but there we have it.
4/01/2007
20 four-word sentences
(excellent practice for writing headlines)
1) Cuddle peacocks every Tuesday.
2) Waffles bludgeon my soul.
3) Seek cobra venom antidotes.
4) Tarred, feathered, I moan.
5) I crave tofu biscuits.
6) Be smart, eat fish.
7) Revel in word zest.
8) Mormons haunt my thoughts.
9) Who has osmosis exhaustion?
10) Spanish eyes shine mightily.
11) Equal rights never arrive.
12) Club chicks gyrate hypnotically.
13) Polish grandma's copper dentures.
14) Spontaneously combust, then extinguish.
15) Analyze your squeegee budget.
16) Feast upon barbecued rhinoceros.
17) Swedes are prettier, bouncier.
18) Skydiving is aborted suicide.
19) Chickens cluck Swahili sonnets.
20) Ottawa Senators choke, again.
1) Cuddle peacocks every Tuesday.
2) Waffles bludgeon my soul.
3) Seek cobra venom antidotes.
4) Tarred, feathered, I moan.
5) I crave tofu biscuits.
6) Be smart, eat fish.
7) Revel in word zest.
8) Mormons haunt my thoughts.
9) Who has osmosis exhaustion?
10) Spanish eyes shine mightily.
11) Equal rights never arrive.
12) Club chicks gyrate hypnotically.
13) Polish grandma's copper dentures.
14) Spontaneously combust, then extinguish.
15) Analyze your squeegee budget.
16) Feast upon barbecued rhinoceros.
17) Swedes are prettier, bouncier.
18) Skydiving is aborted suicide.
19) Chickens cluck Swahili sonnets.
20) Ottawa Senators choke, again.
3/31/2007
20 more friggin' brilliant ideas
(self-explanatory, I think)
1) Coin laundromats that double as slot machines, to reduce gambling addiction. It would take 25 minutes for the spin cycle to end and achieve payout, thus delaying instant gratification. Spot gaming addicts by how white their clothes are, while the phrase "I'm all cleaned out," takes on a fresh-scented double-meaning.
2) Instead of left-turn lanes, laughterin' lanes! Uncontrollable giggling accompanies every fatal car crash.
3) In our germophobic society, handshakes should be replaced by a universally agreed upon system of pleasant whistling noises.
4) A coffee-flavoured, tobacco-based hard liquor you inject in your forearm, as a slightly less powerful substitute for Facebook addiction.
5) A separate country for dyslexics, where each citizen has the right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Hippo Penis.
6) A kindler, gentler Mafia, where 'taking care of stoolies' means more than taking a man's life; it means taking his family out for wings afterwards.
7) We could solve the scourges of world hunger and overpopulation simultaneously, with an admittedly controversial practice I call 'corrective cannibalism'.
8) Forget the concept of 'Give a Penny, Take a Penny'. I'd be elected President in no time with my proposed 'Give a Penny, Take a Sandwich' legislation.
9) Perfume lines that don't smell like fruits, or flowers, but smell like Historical Events. Calvin Klein's Normandy Invasion. Or a history book that actually smells like the Battle of Hastings. Or, if smell was the most important sense we had, then for final exams, you wouldn't write about a given topic—you'd have to smell just like it!
10) A Portuguese custard pastry so light it actually floats on air (if you call this a 'pie in the sky idea' I will shoot you).
11) A law that forbids lineups of any kind, for any situation that involves waiting—in favour of mandatory human pyramids.
12) A 1-800 help line for plumbers who are victimized by references to 'loving caulk', having 'a crack addiction' etc.
13) If cows were religious animals, then the 'Jesus cow' would be the one who invented vegetarianism.
14) To minimize litter in alleyways, call them Litter Death Zones.
15) Men should be able to brag about universally defunct skills in order to impress women. For example, my proficiency in morse code is second to none; my copper smelting is talked about in foreign countries, and I can skin a yak with my bare gherkin. Women should play along with this harmless delusion.
16) More Jedi in our armed forces, definitely.
17) To win more funding for space exploration, more astronauts need to return to Earth in space shuttles filled to the brim with astronougat.
18) The climactic scene in any movie should be called The Nutsgrabber.
19) Great TV show idea that's still a little ways off: Shark vs. Bark: Great White Sharks battle Evil Supernatural Trees, filmed in a giant floating arena, possibly a Jello-filled Zeppelin sponsored by the Discovery Channel.
20) Motorized glaciers!
1) Coin laundromats that double as slot machines, to reduce gambling addiction. It would take 25 minutes for the spin cycle to end and achieve payout, thus delaying instant gratification. Spot gaming addicts by how white their clothes are, while the phrase "I'm all cleaned out," takes on a fresh-scented double-meaning.
2) Instead of left-turn lanes, laughterin' lanes! Uncontrollable giggling accompanies every fatal car crash.
3) In our germophobic society, handshakes should be replaced by a universally agreed upon system of pleasant whistling noises.
4) A coffee-flavoured, tobacco-based hard liquor you inject in your forearm, as a slightly less powerful substitute for Facebook addiction.
5) A separate country for dyslexics, where each citizen has the right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Hippo Penis.
6) A kindler, gentler Mafia, where 'taking care of stoolies' means more than taking a man's life; it means taking his family out for wings afterwards.
7) We could solve the scourges of world hunger and overpopulation simultaneously, with an admittedly controversial practice I call 'corrective cannibalism'.
8) Forget the concept of 'Give a Penny, Take a Penny'. I'd be elected President in no time with my proposed 'Give a Penny, Take a Sandwich' legislation.
9) Perfume lines that don't smell like fruits, or flowers, but smell like Historical Events. Calvin Klein's Normandy Invasion. Or a history book that actually smells like the Battle of Hastings. Or, if smell was the most important sense we had, then for final exams, you wouldn't write about a given topic—you'd have to smell just like it!
10) A Portuguese custard pastry so light it actually floats on air (if you call this a 'pie in the sky idea' I will shoot you).
11) A law that forbids lineups of any kind, for any situation that involves waiting—in favour of mandatory human pyramids.
12) A 1-800 help line for plumbers who are victimized by references to 'loving caulk', having 'a crack addiction' etc.
13) If cows were religious animals, then the 'Jesus cow' would be the one who invented vegetarianism.
14) To minimize litter in alleyways, call them Litter Death Zones.
15) Men should be able to brag about universally defunct skills in order to impress women. For example, my proficiency in morse code is second to none; my copper smelting is talked about in foreign countries, and I can skin a yak with my bare gherkin. Women should play along with this harmless delusion.
16) More Jedi in our armed forces, definitely.
17) To win more funding for space exploration, more astronauts need to return to Earth in space shuttles filled to the brim with astronougat.
18) The climactic scene in any movie should be called The Nutsgrabber.
19) Great TV show idea that's still a little ways off: Shark vs. Bark: Great White Sharks battle Evil Supernatural Trees, filmed in a giant floating arena, possibly a Jello-filled Zeppelin sponsored by the Discovery Channel.
20) Motorized glaciers!
3/27/2007
Prospecting for semantics
(what you get when you delete 9 out of every 10 words:)
Throwing
freedom underwear silence Cyril Crosby. Polemicize fissions. happiness is mortgaged the moat hollowed out. throwing abstracts at walls, piling on concrete, dumptruck bricks oh fascinating tricks.
College marvins collect colanders in pots. Stick with me that’s all I’ve got. vegetative, delirious, suckling on sticks, swizzle trouble rum meadow shacks. Taught by beavers and climbing a smokestack.
Mozart was a keyboardist, too many letters loud lengthy staccato beaten by his betters, Wolfgang, undress secrets, expect no applause until you sign upon the line!
symphonic nonsense music words, cymbal crash symbolic trash rat tat tat
young as the day you untied your tongue, numb stuporal syllabic centuries of sssh! Silence in the library , greedy stern mother, gentry mores and clucking crow.
Half a liter more, I’m half the leader I was, I was littering below!
Throwing
freedom underwear silence Cyril Crosby. Polemicize fissions. happiness is mortgaged the moat hollowed out. throwing abstracts at walls, piling on concrete, dumptruck bricks oh fascinating tricks.
College marvins collect colanders in pots. Stick with me that’s all I’ve got. vegetative, delirious, suckling on sticks, swizzle trouble rum meadow shacks. Taught by beavers and climbing a smokestack.
Mozart was a keyboardist, too many letters loud lengthy staccato beaten by his betters, Wolfgang, undress secrets, expect no applause until you sign upon the line!
symphonic nonsense music words, cymbal crash symbolic trash rat tat tat
young as the day you untied your tongue, numb stuporal syllabic centuries of sssh! Silence in the library , greedy stern mother, gentry mores and clucking crow.
Half a liter more, I’m half the leader I was, I was littering below!
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