check out my new commercial. more to come….
trying to satisfy you is a herculean feat this
is not how I wanted to start out this poem
intentional lawnmowering start up
hover over why don’t you
today, this morning, for you to get gang green
face is blue getting cold
imagined I vomited in the kitchen floor
fell and passed out on my way to the bathroom and
died that way and in two hundred years seeing
the entire east coast but individual cities in particular
wiped out by storms, remembering the kids playing
on that street, fading to present dusty, flattened houses
then 1,000-2,000 years forward new neighborhoods
appearing America and other countries not even
remembered our skeletons uncovered from time to time
soon c. will be off
on another trip and
I will be alone with the
cats I’ll try to make
the best of my time but
can already feel things
the sun is
bright my soup
cup at the sink
and cleaned off
under running water
for a friend I
go to school with I
have yet to buy
books for the new
semester at home
watching Angels in America
the first hour (1985) I think
they should do a movie
based on the ideas of 1984
another of Brave New World
and then some of my ideas
my shit would be a mix of
totalitarianism, world collapse,
alien abductions, earth quakes,
landslides, and mothers
spending their last dollars
at Atlantic City licking their
fingers to turn each page
baby boomers mass exit
aluminum foil in a microwave I
realize this this is my
motherfuckin’ movie motherfucker
this poem this jet ski this vibrating chair
for you to make your drug deal on
this handicapped parking space
utilitarian methods projected
into fan blades and you
sucking in helium and talking funny I
run to the corner and grab the
balloons off the house for sale sign bring
them back to the living room we record
tripped out voices while playing piano for
the answering machine
there are nine
on my desk
most of them pens
and an electronic pen
used like a mouse
plugged into the side
of the keyboard
I am getting ready
to have some
soup for lunch
my phone is turned
on counting down
my minutes as a free
man I hope desperately
this soup will be good if
not at least edible it is
okay I suppose blow on it
to cool it down don’t
wanna burn my tongue
not being able to taste anything
the dehydrated carrots
have this sweet strawberry
taste to them I stare
at the desk and all the things on it
while I eat – the temperature is
45 degrees out in our house the
heat wouldn’t come on so she asked
me to call the landlord even
though it was 9 PM and he was cool
sent his son who fixed it –
it was once mentioned Jesus was
the Sun of God not the son
the sun shines through the
front windows past the front register
and this window to my office I call mine
but I know better so does everyone else
was thinking you can drop knowledge around
here but if they don’t like you that’s that they’ll
axe without second thought
the soup is not bad and still hot half way through
my problem is that by five I am already
starving again thus somewhat cranky so
if anything else goes “wrong” by the time
I get home tables get turned over
the phone doesn’t ring that much today things are
finally slowing down and tomorrow I hope
will be dead it will be a nice rest for me after
this terrible month
I feel like crying really hard just read a news article
about two men who tied a cat to the back of a
cable van and drove off onto the highway
they did this consciously and are suspended
and if convicted will be fired all I have to say
is that these men are very lucky as far as I see it
because if it were up to me I’d chop off both
their thumbs and pinkies and throw them in a
village where they would be peed on at least once
a day and at night would make them sleep in
crates like veil calves the cat the cat is dead though
how can a person be peaceful/violent? is there
such a thing? sometimes I want to be a human bear claw
and slice through concrete.
I’ve not really written for days. My hands have been moving, but something isn’t in it. My heart is not in it. And now I’m back from West Virginia. I kind of gave that holiday away to the relatives; I’ll claim New Year’s and the weekend as my own. It is good to be out of that state and off an 80 mile an hour highway. Settling in, a few late presents roll in and cheer me up.
Desktop wallpaper, black and white leaves, tree branches, an overlay of scattered icons. A future. This is like running fast into a cave. A time clock is breathing down the back of my neck. Television commercials dart around in my mind. There are obligations to take care of. This is done, blah blah. Check! Read this. Check! And that. Check! Take care of that font problem. Sob.
The customers want more calendars. Scan, place photos, rotate pages, run the 11×17 (Tabloid) paper through the bypass tray. Can you believe the managers don’t even know “Tabloid” is another name for 11×17? I say Tabloid, they ask what the hell I’m talking about. They manage reams and reams of paper, barely knowing what to call it. My mind is busy with plenty of names I could call them, but don’t, can’t, hopefully won’t.
Matthew’s book to me, on James Baldwin’s life – says he lived by the principle of “go for broke,” live life to its fullest. Take risks or settle into hell. Settle for becoming boring. I know some who are extremely boring. I want so much to feel that I am open and ready to throw off ignorance. Come along and teach me! But don’t throw the stale stuff at me. Give me your heart. That’s what I never get about conservatives, they’re coming from a place that’s very hateful a lot of the time. They don’t seem very open at all. They should not be conserving their soulfulness. Its about time you spend it out. But… they want to come off like these together businessmen, talk in formulas. And somehow they will destroy the world by being disorganized. How is that? You can only organize so much.
. . .
Talked a lot, about a lot of things, on the trip back. Mostly C. just listened as I rambled, at times on different ideas rattling around in my head – slavery and freedom, and the past.
Slavery – typically slaves of our governments, typically slaves when ignorant. When you dream at night, you dream of flying sometimes, of being free. Freedom – you want political freedom, personal freedom, financial freedom, but in the end you want freedom from your body; why else would you dream of flying? Be free from sickness once and for all. Identity – as you talk you imagine what they see. You develop a self worth. These notes begin and pause here.
get off to
a good start
it all in
I straight hate going
to see them
and no matter what
day is no goddamn
I am because
you are not
what you got
and can feel
stuck on yourself
that is being human
many humans judge each other on miserable grounds. I just want to stay away from most of them. business, however, is how you keep alive. business is tainted with all kinds of shit, and keeps you busy. too busy for your own self. I am splintered now as many different selves, all to serve different purposes. one of them one of these days, I fear, may go postal and take all the other selves down with it.
eating. we are going to eat at the Indian restaurant today. are psyched it’s open. gmother suggested this in the first place, since she is going more deaf and more blind, to go, and she would reimburse us. a day later, she has my mother call: “she wants to know what she can make.” nothing! no-thing! nuth-ing! please, please! save-us. Saaaaaav-e uh-ssss. mother calls this morning as the ambassador, and is all like, “she feels like you can’t eat in her house.”
in my mind I am saying, “all pilots have told me to avoid drama.” and, “yes, tell her this is true. and that her house is incomplete.”
in words I am telling: “we are going on the first idea, to go somewhere else.”
you give a first idea, I am going with that. don’t complicate my life. that is un-pilot like.
bills in pocket
and a pen there
many clothes trashed
on christmas eve
a few mins. ago
police sirens go off
in the neighborhood
I joke that
is not properly
we fold what clothes
we are the strange ones
on the block
in the building
in the apartment
the cats look
at us funny
. . .
traditional. presents are wrapped, unwrapped. as a kid I would devour present after present like a beast, wrapping all over the place. but there is no wrapping on the presents I have to give to them – slightly feel bad . . . but time is untimely sometimes. december was hell on earth for a working man.
lights. I always enjoy the lights. I think, too, there should be more Halloween lights. but this is not the time or place to discuss this. we are about to head out for a Christmas Indian dinner, then a Christmas family thing . . .
for me, having to go see “the family” on the holidays, puts a strange twist on enjoying the holidays. it is like going to work, but you can lounge more, and be more sarcastic. sarcasm is the saving grace this fine day, and I plan to indulge.
in other news, dreamt I was in my old neighborhood which is near a Warfare base, and fighter jets were flying over the houses at very low heights. one jet in fact went right under a traffic light. he looped back down again, but did not pull back enough. my friends and I came running and pulled the the pilots out. the main guy was more concerned with with his gun, so I got it out for him. he thanked me for saving his life and added, “Don’t get caught up in all the drama.”
there is drama
there are big events
there is the person
and the decision
to react to it all
it always comes down
to a decision
have little time make it
. . .
notes on speed reading: Josh was asking me how it’s going. it’s going pretty well, actually. I like to read technical books and break them down even further, to save others time. I think, at least so far, the whole gist of the book is about eye movement. our eyes are conditioned to move how a first grader learned to read – one word at a time.
the mind speeds so much faster than talking or reading. reading, therefore, can be bumped up to meet the needs of the brain, enabling you to accomplish more.
as adults, we have greater understanding of words, what they are and what they mean. as a practice to loosen this up, you have to widen your peripheral vision and let your eyes speed through the sentences without stopping on the single words. your eyes inevitably stop from time to time. in the book it is said you should make these allowances every two or three sentences. some words and phrases are also easy to read.
in the book
and he said this
stuff like that. things can be visually bunched together as a part of the eye flow. you do not have to CONCENTRATE on every single word. as I was saying, words like, and, in, the, and so on, are easily recognized. so let your eyes flow on and see what you can pick up without landing on them. some concentrate on the beginning, middle, and end of the line. or beginning and end. regardless, it is all about the eye movement, making it go faster, not reading aloud verbally or mentally. it is a hard habit to break, but you get it more with practice. the book focuses on non-fiction, saying fiction is based on a different structure. this is true, but I think many of the same techniques can be applied.
. . .
I wish I could love people like Rudra loves people. he is the most amazing person I ever met.
fragments, these days that pass, cold days. sitting in the co-op without anything to write with, mentally I think out the words: december depression. december exhaustion. december depletion. december hard times. december hard to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
I’m reading a book on increasing reading speed and comprehension, therefore giving myself reading tasks. I know exactly what books I hope to read and what I have to pick up from where I did not finish. it is exciting to hope. I’m hoping to achieve this. I want to read faster. to have the time for all of this, because I feel so pulled away into other people’s worlds. this is why I resent them. they demand too much of my time and energy, and they shouldn’t have that right.
tonight thinking with all these different little philosophies. year 1000: they fear, hate and burn witches. year 2000: they study history and look back on much of it as primitive. when they come upon the topic of witches and learn the truth about what was done, they feel ashamed. year 3000: they are a tribe of witches. year 4000: they re-write history books and clean the slate of all abuse done to witches. this world has always been run by witches.
twenty four degrees. 3rd hour of morning. maths. short for mathematics. plural. that’s how they abbreviate mathematics in Europe.
the knowing mind
has a third eye
you turn a
they release bombs on a restaurant because the bad guy might be in there. this is kept very quiet, for we hear news back here only of how efficient our military really is. they cross their fingers too much information does not leak out. and are happy the consciousness of the people is so entrenched in entertainment; a new scandal can always be developed.
. . .
word fad: hang your hat on the hook. slide the rook. time is otherwise occupied. he stage dived, the crowd moved away. serves you right for not being old school. sublime is not holding any sort of integrity as a real band for anyone who knows better, but this is to speak with the language of hardcore scene elitism. and I know better.
I could build a snowman in the front yard and it would be a better restaurant than El Toreo. this is to speak in the language of: that is why I know longer go there. the food is stark bad. it is a raspy voice of a restaurant. an old ash tray where some otherwise nice people are forced to work due to circumstances like a tv station that experiences technical difficulties and throws on a splash screen: serving the community. dumping trashing on the community. feeding the community bland food with no nutritional value.
. . .
doors are closed
to keep the heat in
can’t imagine otherwise
I want well for myself
to go blind with
I don’t know where to begin
there is no where I can begin
if I overthink it
in the meantime
give the people something to read!
they almost don’t care that you
can’t save them by handing
over the key to existence
the door is unlocked!
so then writing is all about
being in the middle of the room
the corner in the shadows
in the light at the window
and it all works out?
so I will say something new
and it will have
been said somehow
on the other side of the planet
shunned English English
freshly learned English
the English I speak
the English my mom speaks
the English you speak
nevermind the intention or meaning
even if it is understood
if it sounds different – it’s thrown out
lessons in prejudice
but I want well for you, too
but I’ve lost my train of thought. writing is tricky like that. you pause, then look and there’s nothing. little bugs of thought. interesting. interests. this is all one big word pad. but don’t tell anyone. history is one big organism, the great event, moving, ever changing. each means something different to each person. reality is tricky like that.
we’ll see where this is going. where has it come so far? okay, three years back. 2000: in 1999 we were preparing for and mocking the idea everything as we knew it would end in 2000 upon the arrival of the Y2K bug. this thing was a dud and there was a sigh of relief. 2001, september events and much anthrax. note: events. events occur and shift things around. the powers that be take advantage of these events to further manipulate the people through means of sentimental patriotism. all the while this is happening I am thinking, oh no! oh no! why aren’t people seeing this more clearly? and there is job loss. 2002 we pack up and head for Roanoke, VA (which is a long story that I usually explain off by saying we were tricked into it). 2003 is 2003, you don’t need me to tell you. 2003 was some more of 2002 with more of that sinking feeling that an apocalyptic event is looming. if you lose someone. if you lose something. close to you. that’s your apocalypse.
. . .
active day –
work, wrapping the week up ( a long one!),
leaving, picking up Casey, one half hour later
driving to the co-op still in my work shirt
grabbed snack and went straight
across the street to the theatre and
caught Lord of The Rings
or could say, it caught me
9 o’clock came around eventually
I could only answer “I’m speechless”
I still am
add on to that: very, very tired
a minute ago wrote:
it’s a shame how tired I am
“and feel out of place writing any of this here
I may very well be. that’s just the way it is.”
wanting very much to be doing my own thing
be fully present in this room
listening to music
laying back in bed, reading
enjoying personal time
remember last night’s poetry reading
how it went so-so but I was into it
I felt that people were attentive – which always feels good
“I myself thought I was drunk. I checked to see,
and I was not drunk.”
a friend says, “I really love people. I really respect people.” I don’t always feel that way. I have a temper and things get to me. it’s easy to feel put out or inconvenienced. it takes more of you to put differences of opinion aside and communicate and bend a little bit.
fugazi: “promises! promises! words.” “promises are shit!” I’m starting to see that now.
hatred of all things good and pure. is that how things are starting out? rushing headlong into a dark cave, only to be attacked by . . . assist me in lying in bed and dreaming heavily, being fully present. assist me in being there to hear, respond to little vocalizations. each extension is everything all at once. but time spent in petty ways. you choke yourself with a rope of dollar bills. that is not a profound statement in an early morning, but mourning in observing with a third eye. it is too early for news, or for bombs to start dropping. how is it no one respects this? you glare at me. you make it obvious this is not my home, that I am not welcome here, and I respond by making a run for it. the big jails of the world spend in counterfeit.
there’s this picture of you posing something. I’m 1 for guessing away all the time of a dull day. I think you don’t like your picture taken. can understand that because my nature is shy at times, but also feel identities need along with them built in technologies that preserve them. this is flex of ego that accomplishes digital cameras and web blogs and what not. green enviousness. my respect of you is towering. I have just met you. this new respect does not lean or plummet. it is good to be young and old at once.
zoos of animals for sun. morning on 3:56 eastern standard clock. chapped bulgarian lips. winter minted. time capsule time released in stomach and hatching baby seals that scream and befriend eternal killer whales. you walk through the velvet screen not seen. you’re in this next scene. this ghost posed as a teacher, I picked him up, threw him into the bleachers. gave money to charity to fund plastic heaters. she greeted me at the door. I hope you find your time well spent here, welcome to our gigantic building. my eyes communicate this possibility promises firm. then relax in hotel-like lobby sleeping for hours there under a homemade blanket. when I awake, a note is on the table for me, “please call me, I need help setting up my email.”
not doubting time is golden. I watched the jobs pile up on me at work, because what seemed to be a font problem, crippled my machine for at least two hours. more and more continues to pile up, and it gets depressing, to be too much.
did however find a really cool website, exquisitecorpse.org, run by Andrei Codrescu, this amazing writer originally from Romania.
I guess I’m a human being or something. I keep having these . . . highs and lows. in extremes. extreme sport emotions. I can be set off like a M-80. that will cause some harm to you, that will have your fingers airborne. wave goodbye to what used to be your fingers. now they’re someone else’s. kids collect your fingers like pokemon cards. check out this one!
okay, so today fingers are flying, another monday-tuesday. patience is terribly thin. everyone around here, too, is on edge and ready to start swinging. before I leave and I say, “have a good night,” I’m ready to hear back from them, “oh yeah? well, fuck you!” I won’t be too surprised. big goddamn babies.
when things get busy that’s how it gets. I have one finger flying up right now. do I feel guilty? yes, I do. ’cause I sat down in the book store at lunch to read some of a monk’s auto-biography, and did not have the heart to make it past two paragraphs. no concentration.
you are not being…
sir, you are not being artistic
I’m thinking about asking crazy family members for make-believe presents, just to mess with them a little bit. like, “How To Burn The Flag Without Burning Your Hand.” or “I Like Black People So Much I Want To Become One Myself.” or “How To Get Your Parents To Admit They’re Gay.” or “The Big Apology: Smoking Parents Talk To Their Second-Hand Children.”
if you can’t find these, I will have to send you the ISBN numbers. this can be arranged. if only I had the time to make up some covers . . .